Sunday, January 15, 2017
With the sun full up, it was also nice to sit on the stand to milk and not have my knees under my nose anymore. Each of the girls in turn spooked when they saw the white feed bags tucked under the legs of the stand. It's their sense of self-preservation, but they do not like changes of any kind. I have to put the rake and shovel back exactly where they were. That bucket has to hang on that nail, not any other. There were not supposed to be patches of white on the floor, but they'll get used to them.
Knowing that another week of rain is predicted, I didn't want to waste a minute of sunshine. Bess and I sat on the deck and soaked up rays. Later, we went out with the intent to bring up firewood, but I became distracted with the lovely afternoon and spent a long while pulling straggly dead weeds from the lavender bed. Any excuse was a good one to stay outside. Three heavy wagons of wood in the rack, and my back was crying "Uncle," so it was back in the house for a sit-down.
Leftovers are a single person's best friend, but I was hungry for something "new." Browned chicken thighs with potato and carrot chunks, onions, garlic, and thyme in a reduced white wine and butter sauce made for fine dining in my book.
Stove was so happy last night with fresh wood and plenty of air. As the temperature dropped, he cranked out the heat. Good boy.
It was a good day.