Just Happening

Cold, so when I woke I stoked the fire, and went back to sleep. Hunger and the desire for coffee got me up an hour later. I'd let the scrapple set out, so it would set up, and heated some water, to wipe the knife blade. A good start for the day. Offal is an interesting word, sounds a lot like awful. Tomorrow I have to make some guacamole because the last three avocados will all be ripe. I'm struggling to eat food the girls left. It's not a stretch to say I have supplies for the rest of winter. I'll get to town two or three times in February, and pick up some produce, fresh milk (I use powdered milk in winter), and something interesting, oysters or squid. Glenn called, to tell me I had a book/package at the UPS pick-up station, they had brought it out to the driveway but considered me an "undeliverable address" and they'd hold it for a few days. There's no solution to this, for many weeks I am undeliverable, it doesn't mean I'm not a nice person, it just means the weather is bad. Nothing lasts forever. The freeze/thaw is messy, tracking pounds of mud inside, but it does keep you connected. Often I let it dry, the house needs the moisture, and it's easier to clean. I use a spatula (designated) for this, and a dust pan, then wipe the spot with a damp paper towel. I always refold the towel, so I can use it again. There's usually a small pile of these, at the edge of the kitchen counter, to be used for what I think of as liquid emergencies. Small emergencies, because if you don't have running water, it's difficult to have a large liquid emergency. Still, you might drop a jar of pickles. I pour water from one container to another quite often, and I drip. It's difficult to not drip. Most containers are not actually designed to pour, and you get a sheet of water instead of a stream. Sheets of water are beautiful things, but difficult to control. I've watched the napp at the spillway on Roosevelt Lake for untold hours, a uniform blanket of water. Studying animal tracks, knowing the bob-cat had worked through the compost pile. I'd like to cast some of the tracks, a simple form and plaster of Paris, maybe make a latex negative from that, and make some tiles, or maybe just stabilize the cast, a small collection: a perfect bob-cat, a perfect turkey, a perfect fox. So much is ephemeral. Angels in the snow. I have to go pick up the book from Glenn, and I have to throw out the pig skull somewhere. Small rodents love to scrape bone and have the teeth for it, and I'm interested, because the vole shit fertilizes a small area, which then produces great blackberries. I note the spot on my crude map.