Blue Ridge Blizzard

Friday night I drifted off to sleep in the basement's leather couch. Timmy was curled up above my head softly purring as the first flakes of snow floated behind the window. Timmy smirked at the snow, enjoying the flickering refection of the wood stove's flames dancing in the panes of glass. When I woke up, the cat was no longer amused, citing a dying fire and a foot and a half of snow with ever more pounding down from the sky. I stoked the wood stove, but now Mr. Timmy was more concerned about waddling up the steps to the kitchen so that he could march by Humphrey's cage and remind him that dogs should be locked up at night and only released at their master's wish. Much to Timmy's disappointment, I unlatched Humph's door, but the dog wanted to make the point that he rather liked his cage and refused to come out until he was greeted properly.

The rest of the day was watching Steve drive the tractor around attempting to plow the snow. He got the hang of it, but not before leaving the farm and driving through Woodville bent on a one man parade, stoking some repressed childhood "keeper of the town tractor" dream. He left on this cavalcade without warning, leading us to believe that he had surely rolled off a hill or been swept away by a VDOT snow plower.

After Steve's return he, Mom and I trudged through twenty inches of snow out to the Cabin-Cabin. Dinner was squash soup followed by pomegranate glazed venison over carrot puree with roasted winter vegetables. Then a igloo building bout till the night grew too cold and we retired to the house for the evening.









Tuesday night Catie, home from Seattle, came over for dinner in Winchester. We made some red bell pepper bisque, pasta from scratch and cooked a lobster; which I had never done before. Good times, and the lobster turned out very nice despite his pleas and escape attempts.