Wednesday, November 12, 2014
That bright, early-morning sunshine did not last. On my way down to the barn, a solid bank of fog was pulling itself over the hills to the west with long grey fingers. I hadn't finished with the girls before the temperature dropped and mist filled the air. I had to go to town (another day lost) and had a wood stove dilemma. The house was cold and I felt bad for Bessie and the cats, but I don't like to leave with a fire going, and I try not to bank the fire because it increases the creosote buildup in the chimney. Deciding that the critters were wearing fur coats and had plenty of warm nesting spots in the house, I reluctantly drove off into the gloom.
I've been hitting the panic button about getting the house ready for Thanksgiving. I got a bit snarky (for which I apologize) about the wasted day on Monday because my To-Do list wasn't getting crossed off and time was running out. It turns out I was pushing the wrong button. A reminder call from Tim pointed out that this coming Sunday is his Market Day. Aaargh! I really should look at the calendar more often. I thought I had another week to get ready and had not only not made any cheese, I hadn't even saved enough milk. The chickens were happily slurping up a large portion of what should have been brought up to the house. Back-peddling as fast as I could, I tried to get out of going to the Market this month but Tim already had orders for three pounds of feta so I was stuck. I hurriedly put what milk I had to set a curd and hoped for the best. I have two weeks to get ready for Thanksgiving; plenty of time to push that button. It seems I'm a big proponent of "When in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout!"
On returning home, the order of business was: get a fire started, unload the truck, put frozen food in the freezer, take down the flag before dark, and put the critters to bed. It was only 4:30, but my lighted hat was needed to get the girls to go in.
What a day.