I am not complaining; I like winter.
This is not an airtight house. There are cracks and holes where the cold seeps in. The kitchen cabinets could double as a refrigerator, I swear, and the bathroom--well, that toilet seat can feel like a ring of ice. My feet are cold much of the time, a legacy from the time I froze them blue-solid when I was eleven or twelve. Wool socks made by my friends Betsy Bybell and Kate Dudding and my sister Judy are the only things that help--that and a heating pad at the bottom of the bed.
When it's this cold, I find other ways to warm the house--the main choices being cooking and baking. Today I am canning dried beans to replenish our stock. Larry loves pinto beans, black beans, limas, navy beans--any kind of dried bean actually. I don't care much for them but I will eat them occasionally. and since they are a good source of protein and eaten judicially not too hard on his diabetes, they make a good lunch for Larry. I love garbanzos (chickpeas) so I can them too, in little half-pints that are the perfect size for using in salads and many recipes.
This day is one of those gray, dull days when the sun hides behind the clouds and 32 feels like 15 degrees. The dogs don't want to stay out long, and I can't blame them. But I look at the calendar and I know winter cannot stay much longer and that in a few short weeks we'll start seeing peeps of green emerge from the frost-heaved flowerbeds. I can out-wait Old Man Winter. And in the meantime, I will enjoy the snow while it is here, the flocks of birds at the feeders and the wintry landscapes.
I can wait--as long as these good wool socks don't wear out, anyway.
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