From the Pit

Just hauled Squirrelboy from the La Brea tar pits, where he was playing with a fairy and a dinosaur. Sadly, the fairy had to leave early because "she had to be home by eight o'clock". Even though it's pretty chilly out, the boychild dug himself well into the mud. His snow pants and coat are thickly covered, and his hands looked as if he'd made himself brown gloves. All this happened while the Lord of Dragonwood, his royal parents, Faerygirl, and I were busy trying to finish the downstairs wiring.

Oh, and when the Lord checked yesterday, all four beehives were alive!! I picked up sugar to make sugar-water for them to eat. We want all our dear hives to be alive and well coming into spring.

Ice and a Warm Lap

Today it is so icy-slick that Faerygirl's bus cannot drive down our road. We slipped and skidded down the driveway in the dark only to find out that the roads are nearly impassable. Yesterday, I checked the bees. Three out of four hives buzzed when I lay my ear on the cold metal roofs and knocked. The one that didn't buzz might have expired. We won't know until we check it on a warmer day.

My lap is warmer, now, because one of our former kittens has returned to us. Bucko started out his life in Dragonwood, and then moved to my sister's house for a while. Now that my sister is moving far away, he has come back to live with us. He is a very affectionate cat, purring and snuggling and playing with Squirrelboy. It's nice to have him back. The two tigers, Mars and Charmer, are gone. Faerygirl's Skeezicks is still with us. The Lord of Dragonwood believes we've upgraded.

Two Poems for a Snowy Day

This first poem was written Tuesday, when I went to town.

January Sea

The sea has come to this Midwestern road;

Dry January snow undulates above dark pavement.

I do not know what lies beneath:

Black ice or safe purchase?

Holding the value of these lives I move,

I guide my vessel

Slowly along straight paths made mysterious,

Longing for the taste of salt.

The second poem was written this morning, after my usual inspirational walk back from delivering Faerygirl to the schoolbus.

Starfall

Little flakes like mica iridescent

whisper graces as they fall

to Earth below

filling footprints left in yesterday's snow.

Chips of stars they

shine, descending sparks

of light thrown

fuzzing vision while softer trees grow.

Dust from cosmic wind

drifts in cloudlets, cosmic

breath blown;

figuring this, I am, because of the glow.

How We Keep Warm on a Cold New Year's Day

A full moon shoots sparks from the snow on this first night of the New Year. It's cold. We hunker down in our little garage-house, warmed by the wonderful delights of a heated floor. Outside, the wood-fueled boiler burns our scrap wood efficiently, heating the water that flows through the outside of its shed. This hot water then courses through a system of PEX tubing that the Lord of Dragonwood installed under the floors when he built this place. Comfort radiates from these warm floors, with none of the drafts or noise of a fan-based heater. It's good to go barefoot upon them. As we work and dream towards the day when the Manor will be finished, we rejoice in the fact that it, too, will warm us toes first. All the floors and the pool will be heated by this powerful boiler that only requires feeding once or twice a day.