It’s winter here. The full-on kind. We’re in our second blizzard, after having barely unburied ourselves from the first. It’s a quiet November Sunday, perfect for taking a nap – and then another.
The chickens are staying in as well. They peeked outside for a brief look, then turned around and went back to bed. (I know the feeling.) The lone duck, who typically spends his days on the pond, moved in with them for the evening.
We were supposed to visit family today for an early Thanksgiving. But with the certain uncertainty of the weather, we opted to stay home. Another Sunday is just as good as this one.
Instead we’re focused on keeping the home fires burning, periodically shuffling armfuls of firewood into the hall, then into the house, then into the wood stove.
I’m grateful for the warm crackling heat. I’m grateful for the cords of firewood stacked outside and in. I’m grateful for the channels carved through the snow just wide enough for me plus an armful. I’m grateful for door handles you can open with an elbow.
I’m grateful to be stuck at home with a man who loves me, who brings me hot tea in the morning and hot stew at night. I’m grateful for the stockpiles of food stashed in various corners of our kitchen. We were snowed in once years ago without such a stash, and it was much less pleasant.
Snow days are so much different these days. When I was a kid, they were the stuff of celebration. These days, they’re alternating layers of quiet work and just plain quiet.
As for tomorrow, there will be work to be done, shoveling and plowing and tending to things. Work work will be calling, what with deadlines to meet and the back-and-forth ping pong of correspondence.
But today, nothing more than the barest of essentials: heat. Food. Shelter. Companionship. Maslow’s bottom rung.
If you’re facing a blizzard of your own, take it slow – and then take it slower. Whether the flurry is work or weather, do what you gotta do to get you through. The rest will be there tomorrow.