To Town

Other than the brief chat with B, I'd had no converse for days. I have a list of things that I need for the winter, batteries for my headlamp, lamp oil at Big Lots (on clearance, I buy several quarts), a stop at the library, then a pint with a giant pretzel at the pub. Then Kroger where I get everything for the pot roast dinner, including a lovely large piece of chuck for half-price. I'll braise the meat, after browning, in chicken stock and red wine, with a handful of herbs. I'll start this tomorrow night, when I last stoke the stove, and leave it on all night as the fire cools down. I need to invite someone out for dinner, because with hot corn bread, this is going to be an amazing meal. Thursday I'm supposed to eat dinner down at B's, to meet the young couple that might move into his old cabin. I like the idea of someone living there, but the idea of delineating driveway protocol is daunting. B's a good cook, so I look forward to that, and meeting new people is always interesting. I thought it was a bad idea for anyone to move to an extremely isolated place at the beginning of winter but they had already seen that, thought they'd keep the rental in town and move out in the spring. Sensible. Sensible is good. Otherwise you freeze into that rictus often confused with a smile. A parting gesture from the quick to the passing. A single finger that indicates the way. I going to go, heat some soup, toast some left-over corn bread. The big questions are beyond me. I'd picked up a Jim Harrison book I had missed, Returning To Earth, and a new book of Paul Theroux short stories, and read half the night, slept in, then went out and worked on kindling and small stuff, by hand, because I didn't want to run a chainsaw. Forecast is for snow on Friday morning. I stopped at a favorite stump, where the next hollow to the north drops off steeply. It's a very quiet place, and I have a coffee can of sand there, that I use as an ashtray. The fattest god-damned woodchuck I have ever seen in my life waddled out of the underbrush, and we stared at each other for a few minutes, then she went about her business. Lots of birds today. Dusky dark, the setting sun dove into a cloud bank. I should have busted those last rounds of oak, and got them under cover, but I wanted out of my boots, and a drink, and the house was warm. I'm in pretty good shape, considering that I mostly burned kinder-garden desks last year, and lived to tell the tale. And last winter was hard, my olive oil froze, or at least solidified, and survival was an actual issue. Walking in, at ten below, with a pack, all of it uphill, is difficult. If it's after dark, and you're lighting the way with a pen-light, and the house is cold, it might be construed as a critical situation. I cleaned out the fridge, so there's the usual scrabble at the compost heap. I run the dogs off just because they're loud. Later, cleaned up, with a drink and a smoke, the world seems just fine.