False Distinctions

There was nothing about snow in the forecast, but there's a solid dusting of those tiny crystalline flakes covering everything when I go out. Bitter cold. Clean out ashes, knock down the stovepipe and clean the throat in the smoke chase then start a roaring fire. I need a pair of those big heavy socks with the leather soles so I make a note to stop by Good Will. My feet have been cold for days, and my hair is very dirty, which happens if you wear a watch-cap 24/7. I've told several of my closest friends to tell me when my body odor gets offensive, they all said I smell fine, maybe a bit smokey but nothing bad. Thank god I got my laundry done before this latest round of cold weather. Mid-afternoon I take a break from reading (the codification of spoken, vernacular, language into typeface), add several layers and go for a walk. The year of the woodpeckers, they're all around and they're a perfect dash of color; and the yearling squirrels running around like mad hatters. When I got back home, I decided to cook the acorn squash, so I halved it and scooped out the seeds, set them aside, stuffed one half with a sausage mixture, the other with a red raspberry and apricot jam mix, wedged them upright with my cooking stones, and put them in to bake. I cleaned the seeds, in warm water for the sake of my fingers, then roasted them with a dusting of garlic powder and a drizzle of bacon fat. I recommend these. The meal was fantastic, the way the squash absorbed all the juices. The stove is cooling down, I wrap up in a blanket and put my hand between my knees. It's supposed to be warmer tomorrow.