Caretaker’s Log, Friday, April 10, 2015
The coyotes get my attention with a sharp bark. I watch them go up the south slope above the root cellar, cross the main road, and disappear out of sight at the foot of the old road. The cat is not pleased with them being in the vicinity.
I post a blog. I eat the last fresh banana with breakfast. After I reset the Ah removed to zero, I put on skis and go up the main road. I go past the top gate and then about another mile or so. I go past the farthest point I've ever been on skis, and go maybe another half mile until I reach a view that stops me in my tracks. I eat a high-protein snack bar and drink some water. Then I turn around and go back. I see a lot of tracks. I see a pretty bird and a squirrel. I'm gone for nearly three hours.
It was quite an excursion. And I'm both happy and tired. My legs drag a little toward the end. I have blisters on my feet. Almost back to the lodge, I stop off first at the root cellar and get some potatoes. Some of the carrots have gone moldy, I'll have to take care of them another time.
I sit with the cat. Then I go in and take a bath. Post some pictures online. Heat up the heating pad and sit on the couch and read for a bit.
Phinehas calls to tell me about a dream he had where I was a card shark. He says my skills were beautiful.
I start dinner and call my grandmother. My niece and other family are over for a visit so I make it a short conversation not wanting to cut into their face to face time.
I eat scrambled eggs and pan fried potatoes for dinner.
I watch a show. Read. I have awful bags under my eyes. I also have a slight sunburn. I go to bed. Lights out before 10:30.
Caretaker’s Log, Saturday, April 11, 2015
I wake up more refreshed than I've been since the time change for Daylight Saving.
I run the water to keep the pipes clear in the bathroom and kitchen, start water boiling, set up the coffee, drink my apple cider vinegar and honey concoction, empty the bucket catching the leak water next to the refrigerator, ready the cat’s water, start a fire.
It's a beautiful day. Sunshine. Wispy clouds. Two geese are walking around the east field. Two robin red breasts are fluttering about. Even the cat is out and about on her own. I see her down by Kinky Creek slinking through the tall grass.
I go outside for the morning walk around. I see a Sandhill Crane. The first one of the season. That and the ground squirrels that are starting to appear are a true heralding of spring.
When I get back from checking the generator shack and looking out over the backyard, the cat is on the porch. I sit in the chair and she winds around my legs, stopping once to growl at one of the geese who is walking the fence line.
I eat an omelet and pan fried potatoes for breakfast.
I write for a good portion of the morning and early afternoon.
At one point, I stand up and scan the world outside the windows. I see a dark thing in the west field. I know my camera will zoom focus on the porch screen from this window so I go to the piano room and look out. It's just a rock turned dark by shadows. But, while I'm here, I discover the dead mouse I've been smelling for the past few days but have been unable to locate. It's in the empty blue vase next to the plants. These mice really need to stop getting into things they can't climb out of.
I'm sad I didn't hear its struggles so I could help. I take the vase out with me to the field and find a place to lay the mouse. I wish him the ability to rest in peace. In the process of upturning the vase, I find that there's an even more desiccated mouse in the bottom of the vase with him. He seems to have been resting in peace for quite some time without any wishing.
Back inside, I put bleach in the vase and set it aside to soak.
I write a little more.
I make up a kale salad to have for dinner. It's the last head of kale. The last of the fresh greens. The fridge is beginning to look bare again.
The cat and I do the evening walk around. She's been up in the roof all day, out of the wind. The snow is down to 9 inches. As if to counteract this measurement, it begins to snow at seven o'clock. But only a bit of flurries. Nothing to write home about.
I write some more. Just a little.
For dinner, I eat my kale salad and some of the leftover cauliflower.
While I read through what I’ve written for the day, I heat up some apple juice and pour the last of the Kraken rum in it for a hot toddy.
I watch a show. Eat cheese and crackers. Read for forty-five minutes and then call it a night.
Caretaker’s Log, Sunday, April 12, 2015
It's Sunday so I water the plants.
The cat and I do the morning walk around. 0.8 inches of snow has fallen between seven o'clock last night and now. The sun is out. I imagine the snow will melt away soon even though today's temperature stays right around freezing.
The wind is urgent and forceful. A gigantic snow devil is chased from one field to the other.
I read a good portion of the day away. I'm just about finished with this book.
Phinehas calls around one o'clock or two o'clock. We talk for a while.
I call Grandmama and get the update from their visits with the great grandkids.
Feeling restless, I want to get out and move but the snow is too soft and the wind is chill and uninviting. I sit with the cat for a moment and then go back inside.
Though it feels strange to do an indoor workout, I do the P90X stretch video I have saved on my computer. It's just what I needed. Enough movement to satisfy while not being too strenuous. My hamstrings and my neck definitely needed the stretch.
I take a bath.
I eat the last of the cauliflower.
An osprey is scanning the creek for fish. A duck feels very indignant about this. Two crows fly over and away.
I make up tuna to have for dinner.
The cat and I do our walk around. The Wild Hydro is working like a dream in this warmer weather. There is 0.02 inches of precipitation in the bucket. I bring in some wood. Tell the cat goodnight.
I eat my dinner.
I write. The story is winding up.
Phinehas calls again to ask if my refrigerator is running. My brothers are hilarious. He says he and Noah both agreed that I ruin jokes. I tell him to use one I didn’t use myself for prank calls as an awful child before caller ID was invented. I’m beginning to wish this phone had caller ID.
I write until bedtime.