In Detail

If you know exactly where to look. Hidden in plain sight. Nothing succeeds like suggest. Eventually everything rubs off and you're left with nothing. A moonbeam through parted clouds, a mere sample of what light might be like. Ice-storm conditions, rain, 33 degrees. When I first got up, the deck and back porch were covered with ice, my doors frozen shut. Finally get outside through a window, throw hot water at the back door to get it open. Bring in all the wood I have split, cut starter sticks, split kindling. As ready as I can be for whatever weather is coming. Calling for 8 inches of snow tonight and maybe another 6 tomorrow. Winter Storm Warning until tomorrow night. Heavy wet snow, bound to lose power and phone, probably late tonight, when the snow starts accumulating. I get out two of the oil lamps and four candles in holders, two of which are very nice, brass, with carrying handles. What I think of as the winter-night-power- out kit. It allows me to read or write at the island and stoke the stove. Which is the limit of my activity. Tomorrow I'll probably recline of the sofa most of day, under several blankets, start reading that history of printing. I'll probably make chili, again, because it is perfect for this weather, but I have other options. I have been known to cook a risotto on days like what tomorrow promises, because it keeps me hovering over the stove. I have dried mushrooms and baby peas in the freezer, so risotto becomes a serious option. There's a pork roast I may have to eat, about three pounds, and that poses several alternatives. The menu of necessity. I've got 10 pounds of beans, 5 pounds of rice, and a bag of onions, a dozen eggs, a loaf of honest bread, and two pounds of very good, thick-sliced, apple-smoked bacon. I can hold out for a while. 4 pounds of cornmeal, 3 pounds of grits, 2 rock-hard avocados, and a single small deer I shot from an upstairs window. I swore I'd never do this again, but I did it anyway. I needed the meat. It's an easy change. What I needed.