Cold Comfort

Occasionally the timing works. On my walk I saw that the driveway was firming up, tomorrow is supposed to be nice, 50 degrees and sunny, it's not going to freeze tonight, and the wind is going to pick up after midnight. I'll be able to get out and back in, have some lunch in town, talk to a couple of people, and lay in supplies. Events seldom conspire so perfectly. Usually the winter list is winnowed down to what I can carry up the hill, but this time I revise upward. Drinking water for the month, whiskey, tobacco and papers, plus replacing everything I've eaten from the pantry. Two smoked jowls and one other meat or fish, depending on what's remaindered; greens, onions, turnips, and several more cans of those very good tamales. I can take my time shopping, and at the library, because I won't have to race home to beat a thawing driveway. Also, B doesn't teach on Tuesday, so I can stop down and see him. Another storm is coming in behind this nice weather, and it'll be good to be well prepared. I make a note to pay the land taxes, because I might not get out again before they're due. Then sit with a cup of tea and try and think about what I must have forgotten. It's impossible not to forget things, and it usually doesn't matter that much; you're in town, working, or driving the kid to math camp, you pick things up. If you forget it today, you get it tomorrow. You probably don't keep a back-up black pepper. It would be, what? unnecessary? But to be out of black pepper for two weeks, for me, is unthinkable, so I keep a back-up grinder. Another book on the history of chickens, and a history of olive oil that I'm saving for the next "snow emergency". Several options for long convoluted fiction. And I have a list of words that I need to run through the various dictionaries. Pone, pain, pan, for instance, which I can see will take several days. If I'm reading or writing and a particular word intrudes, I usually drop everything and pursue it right then, but some times I just make a note of it, to be pursued later. Winter words. I store them up for snowbound days in front of the stove. Reading Anthony Burgess, rereading actually, Earthly Powers, and I think he must have added more words to English than anyone in modern times. His genius is that the words are absolutely correct. I love reading him. Got out, though the driveway was still a bit dicey. Spent most of the day in town, conversations, a slow shop through Kroger. Then home, with a stop for eight potato logs, tobacco and a great many packs of papers. Stopped at B's, had a wee dram and talked for a while. The mailbox was stuffed, two New Yorkers, all of the bills I need to pay this month, and a couple of books. Excellent. The drive back in was only slightly scary; the fact that you have to keep up momentum, but the rear end slips around and there isn't much room for mistakes. It's a great feeling, getting back on the ridge, unloading supplies; while I'm putting things away, I eat a couple of potato logs, dipped in horseradish/mayo. Cory told me, at the pub, that we were going to get some serious rain, the next few days, so I fill my wash pot with water and clean one of the pickle buckets. If it's warm enough tomorrow, I'll take another sponge bath. I got coffee and drinking water today, juice, back-up whiskey, all the liquids, and canned goods to replace what I'd used. Going into February and I'm well-stocked, I've still got butternut squash I rescued from the Tim Horton display, and some pumpkins I picked up off the side of the road. As Cory had said, it starts raining sometime in the night, the wind picks up, and it's soon blowing a gale. I sign off and go to sleep.