Greetings From the Ice Cave

I was lying in bed under double quilts, thinking. Lily wanted me to get up - she put her paws up on my side of the bed each time she heard me roll over. My nipples responding to the cold felt like two fragile skyscrapers. Thank god for bras! The windows were covered with ice crystals. The edges of the ice looked like hairy insect legs. Bread dough was rising, closed off in the next room, hidden from Sammy the cat.

Lily is looking mature. Her cream color has turned white on her snout and her hair is thinning slightly around her eyes. She will be 6 in March. I am grateful that she is healthy. She is such a kind and gentle spirit.

Just now I am cooking up a huge crock-pot of un-hulled barley and wheat berries. I freeze small batches of it for quick-defrosting for suppers and it has become a new way of life. Having this mixture of grain hot with vegetables or tomato sauce and a sprinkle of parmesan on top is hearty and delicious.

It is bright and sunny out and at Lily's urging we walked to poop alley, behind the ball field. After ten minutes my fingers were screaming in pain and so we headed right home. I normally don't like to feel like I can't go out but this is an emergency of extreme temperatures.

I pulled the second layer of curtains closed on the two large living room windows. The curtains are dark olive-y green. They came with the house. This is the way the room was when we first saw it, the curtains drawn all day, the frightened-old-lady look. The double layer covering the glass makes it feel like nighttime, but the room is noticeably warmer. I much prefer to let the daylight in but this sub-zero temperature hurts.

I feel like I am making a physical and emotional nest in an ice cave. I am. I've put a fleece blanket over Lily with only her head poking out. She hasn't protested.

My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.
-Edith Wharton

In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.
-Edith Wharton