Despite the dicey weather, or maybe because of it, Cindy came over for a planned run for the dogs, visit time for us, hot soup after.   We were well dressed for a nippy 18 degrees and the dogs didn’t notice the cold at all, well, except Coop who has to de-ice his toes now and then.   Definitely a workout, 8+ inches of snow with crust, some deeper drifts, we worked up an appetite!  

Sadly, even after some effort to make my driveway more user friendly, Cindy got stuck at the top.  We took care of that before it got dark.   It just added to the fun and the workout we got, carrying sand and shovels and generally having a good ol’ winter time.   Buster was moral support while we shoveled and sanded, pushed, shoved, shoveled, grunted, and finally unstuck her car.  He was a big help 🙂

After all that I forgot to take a picture at dinner, but it was fun too!

I do love snow but sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me 🙂 I don’t know why I trust the weather service either, I should know better. I went ahead and shoveled AGAIN yesterday because they said last night we might get an inch. Wrong! We got four more fluffy inches on top of the last ten so I had to shovel AGAIN. It’s certainly pretty out. I took a slew of pictures and will be ready for winter wonderland pictures if I do Christmas cards this year. I thought the draped snow on top of my pergola was worth sharing – I noticed it when I was shoveling the bedroom deck. I can appreciate the beauty but I wonder if one can get too much of a good thing? No, of course not 🙂 And it’s keeping me in shape. Building upper body strength by shoveling, leg strength by going with the dogs down the back and plowing through all that snow with them, down and then up. And now the moisture is going away and they’re predicting below zero the next few nights. I have to take them seriously on this one. I’ve practically barricaded my stove with wood so I won’t have go out much. There’s a weather warning out for severe wind chill. I’m as prepared as I can be and ready to fight back. I plan on winning!

Being a Phoenix girl from way back, I’m not a fog fan. Being a Phoenix girl I love a good rainy day, pretty clouds, a gathering storm, but I need my 90% sun. I adjusted considerably to the seemingly endless days of rain, mist, and constant dampness during my days in the Pacific Northwest; I didn’t like it but I adjusted. I don’t live in the Pacific Northwest anymore, I left there for a reason 🙂 When I first moved here Northwest Montana had fog in November but it was limited, we just had to serve our time but the end was always in sight. I think those days are over. I’ve heard of years when hoarfrost built up so thick it broke branches and power lines with the weight and those days seem to be gone, too. Good riddance 😉 We used to have the occasional day of freezing fog that made pretty lace hoarfrost on the remains of summer’s tattered spider webs, grew rows of prickles up and down my deck posts, and made crystal flowers bloom on my stack of firewood. Those days are becoming more and more common. Once in a while, the gray, smothering days leave drapes of pretty spiked frost that shatter into shards of weightless glass if you blow on them, unless they fall down the back of your coat when you carelessly brush pass a branch, then they are cold, cold, cold – like this latest go round. We’ve had seven days of thick fog. No sun, not the stirring of a single branch or needle. As a meager tradeoff we have an exquisite buildup of hoarfrost. My friend, Cindy, and I decided we’d better start fighting back, beat the winters blahs and cabin fever and go for a little stroll. We took the kids down to the lake, walked gingerly around the patches of ice and enjoyed the dogs slipping and sliding and plowing through old, crusty snow. Then back to my place for coffee and cookies. I love having company and sharing my fun dishes. Coop and Sara politely tolerated Buster coming to visit. Sara didn’t appreciate Buster playing with her toys, even though she hasn’t played with them in years, but the afternoon was a success. The dogs enjoyed some rambunctious exercise and Cindy and I shared stories and laughs. And miracle of miracles, there was no sign of fog this morning, just brilliant sun. The Phoenix girl soaked it up and the Montana girl dressed accordingly for the clear frigid air. Both sides of me hope for lots more of the same!!!

I haven’t gotten much sleep this week, though not for the usual reasons. Not sure what the usual reasons are – old age? Hope not. Anyway, this week a couple of owls have stopped by my woods. I saw the dark silhouette of the first one at twilight, swooping overhead. It looked small and stout. He landed and began making fun owl noises, such stereotypical owl noises I thought maybe someone was playing a game with me, hiding in the dusky trees. I’d not heard this one before and, silly me, I went in the house and let it go on hooting without me. Checking on line, first for local owl species, making note of the small, fat ones, I came across a Cornell University site, an awesome site with maps and descriptions and recorded bird songs, screeches and other interesting noises birds make. None of the owls I listened to matched what I had heard in my tree. Darn, there aren’t that many owls! This one kept me awake as I tried to remember its almost corny hoot but couldn’t. Could I have discovered a new species! Sad, because it just looked small, fat, and black and I can’t repeat the calls it made to tell anybody!

Two nights later I lay awake listening to a different owl, one I’ve heard many times before. And it was close. This one was gracious enough to repeat its message over and over. Whowhowho who who. It would have laughed to hear my lying in bed mimicking its call to my dogs, who thought I’d lost it. I wanted to be sure to remember it so I could look it up. As I lay there listening I could hear another one answering, far off in someone else’s woods. They hooted back and forth for some time. I was pleased to confirm they were great horned owls on the Cornell site, no doubt about it. Now I can picture these impressive birds sitting in my trees, which I’m so glad I have for them to sit in. 🙂 Some people would consider them sirens of the forest, luring them into dark and evil places, but my woods are safe and protective at night, and I’m thrilled to share them with the owls.

Two nights ago the dogs and I slept with the wood stove, a black and stout and very warm thing in my living room. With predictions of 0 degrees overnight I wanted to be sure to keep it going, and it’s quite pleasant once in a while to drift off to sleep in its peachy, dancing shadows. I woke up once in the wee hours to see a familiar friend sparkling outside the window. In the freezing darkness there was Orion, my guardian of the night, as dependable as a body guard, his sword at the ready. He’s my comfort constellation, and I lay there thinking back of all the places I’ve been over the years where he’s twinkled at me on a clear, winter night.

And just so you don’t worry about me, last night I slept like a log, all the way through 😉

This first line was mine, I’d actually thought of it earlier in the day. My only thought until the timer started was that there would be reindeer:
The steps in the snow were very mysterious. The dogs wondered about them, too, sniffing from one to the next. They were deep and wide, the edges blurred. Bigger than any deer prints I’d ever seen. We’d just come across them on our usual walk and, though it was getting dark, I decided to follow them. There was certainly more than one, maybe a herd. Should I be scared? No, definitely not wolf prints, so I kept going. The dogs were hot on the trail, a hundred feet ahead of me plowing through the snow. I trudged behind and could see the straight path the mysterious critters had taken into the trees. The light was fading but I could still make out the shadows of the prints. The lights in the valley down below were coming on. I paused to enjoy the twinkling Christmas lights, one of the ranches had strung lights around their house and all their outbuildings. I love Christmas lights! Now I was having trouble keeping the trail in sight and suddenly both dogs were back with me, excited and prancing around. And then the tracks just disappeared. Gone. I searched in the settling dusk but they had vanished. How was that possible? Wait a minute….did I just hear sleigh bells???

Folks, it’s cold up here! Arctic blast is an understatement! Fortunately, it’s been calm through most of this gift from the north but one day it snowed from every direction in strong, nasty gusts – not only from the north, it also snowed from the south, from the east and west, by the front door under the roof, and at my back door and added a couple of inches to my summer table waiting out the season. The lake froze up and it snowed on that, and then it really got cold! Our high was 7 for least four days in a row, dipping to below zero all those nights. Running the dogs at the lake was a challenge, but only for me, the dogs thrive in this weather! And then the electricity went out. This I could handle. With tea and a good book I rather enjoyed it! 🙂

I’ll tell you right up front this story is about “preparing” chickens for the dinner table, and I’ve included a couple of pictures that are not too graphic 🙂

I’ve been reading chapters of my Gone Missing story to my writing group, and there was much discussion when my protagonist admitted to having no clue how to butcher a chicken.   Turns out one of the Cindys (of the six in the group there are three Cindys/Cindies?)  raises chickens.   I’ve always thought this was something I should know how to do, not sure why, goes with my pioneer spirit or something.   Turns out they butcher in the fall and I was invited to help.  Oh boy 😉  I missed the first round but they saved three chickens for me.  So it happened yesterday.   

Cindy told me to dress appropriately.  As a bonus, Cindy also has horses and we planned to go riding later, so I wore my grubbies.  Not as grubby as I should have.  I only watched the “deed,” graciously done by Cindy’s husband.  Cindy has green-checked polyester pants just for the occasion (are thrift stores great or what?) and it’s a messy affair.   They had a big bucket of scalding water ready and after a quick dunking the feathers came right off, more or less.  That was the part I helped with.   I plucked one to Cindy’s two and I was given plucking technique lessons and told family butchering stories as we focused on our birds.   Her dog, Buster, helped too, standing by and ready for the heads to fall.   Then at the big sink in the kitchen I was given rooster anatomy lessons, from the outside and working in.   Quite interesting actually, but admit I didn’t help with that part.   She expertly showed me how to cut one up for frying and made it look easy.  I’ve never been good at cutting up a whole bird and still am not, made it into a real chore and Cindy had to repeat some of her instructions more than once.   She was very patient.   And then the chickens had  to cool, so off we went riding!

Cindy and her husband have four horses and we rode the two pretty black Morgans.  One rides like a couch, she said, one like a truck, she gave me the couch 🙂  Cindy likes bareback, this Cindy needs a western saddle, but it didn’t take long to get ready.  She can ride out the back of her enviable property right into open forest with miles and miles of trails.   We made a couple of loops, seemed like loops to me anyway, including one with a view of the big lake in the purple dusk, fresh snow-capped peaks in the distance.  Lights from town sparkled in the distance as we came back into the corral.  It had been a great afternoon, one that I wish to repeat if she’ll let me!!!   Now I’m off to BBQ a fresh chicken leg/thigh I was lucky to bring home….

We never got a ride. We walked in and out of the shadows along the dusty road toward town. I kicked at drifts of larch needles in ruts and pot holes. By mid-afternoon some of the kick had gone out of my walk. Charlie’s tail no longer waved like a flag but drooped like an old rag. Shortly before seeing the first roof top I noticed the shadows had disappeared. The temperature dropped and I pulled my over-sized coat tight around me. Did I see a few flakes mixed with the occasional larch needle falling in front of me?
“We’ll have a warm place to stay tonight, Charlie. I’m sure of it. And we’ll have something hot for dinner, even you. I promise.” I had to smile and was glad Charlie was not a child who would hold me to my promises. My confidence was waning the closer I got to town. We finally passed the first of the Great Northern buildings on the outskirts of town, the round house and a work shack. Ice houses bordered the tracks on the north side, long gone in my time. I perked up a bit, from anxiety or anticipation I wasn’t sure. Finally we came to Main Street. No train was seen or heard and the streets were quiet. I knew whatever an early dinner cost I was buying it. It seemed a long time since that cold biscuit and square of cheese. Charlie ducked under the doors of the Steel Rail Café and I followed, enjoying the old-fashioned swinging doors. I quickly took a seat near the front window and guided Charlie under the table and told him to stay. He deserved this break as much as I did and I didn’t want him thrown out. A young gentleman wearing a crisp white apron came over with a menu.
“Can I bring you coffee while you decide, ma’am?” He asked.
“Bless you. I can’t think of anything I want more at the moment. Well, maybe a glass of water too, please.”
“And I’ll bring a little bowl for your friend.” He winked at me and headed toward the kitchen.
The menu would be worth studying later, for entertainment. It was printed with cute little drawings of train engines and simple sketches of mountain goats and squirrels. And the prices would make me laugh later, too, but for now I scanned them with the seriousness of the moment and breathed a sigh of relief to see that coffee was 3 cents. Oh, chicken pot pie, perfect, and only 30 cents. Things were looking up. The nice waiter was adorably discreet when he came back with a tray carrying one cup of coffee, one glass of water, and a little bowl of water that he sloshed out a bit when he handed it over. I scanned the faces of the few folks having early dinners or leaning up at the bar and no one seemed to see or care about Charlie. And no one noticed the happy slurping noises that came from under my table. I almost slurped myself I was so thirsty, and I was grateful to be sitting down with a cool glass of water. After rolling my shoulders a bit and oozing into the shape of the chair, I was finally able to relax and take a few deep breaths. The coffee tasted better than any I’d ever had. I tickled Charlie’s ears while we waited for dinner, and studied the bar and the people coming and going. Yep, like a movie. A few people nodded to me as they passed by, faint smiles. Would I fit in? I suspected my clothes were a bit outdated but if anyone noticed I didn’t see it in their faces. Too tired to change my boots before coming into town, I smoothed my skirt down to hopefully cover my feet. I was glad they couldn’t see the tied up bundle of clothes I’d laid on the chair next to me. What would they make of that? I looked like a tramp with a scruffy dog.
In the jargon of my time, the chicken pot pie was to die for. I snuck chunks of chicken under the table that were taken from my fingers by an eager little mouth. I snuck him a couple of carrot bits. I don’t care for peas so he got those too. I would have asked about dessert but it was getting late and I didn’t want to miss Roger. I paid and thanked my kind waiter friend and stepped out onto the boardwalk. Lights were coming on up and down the street. It had started to snow. There was a dim light shining in the newspaper office and one in the little apartment upstairs. What would my new roommate be like? Would we be best friends someday? I hoped she liked dogs. Crossing the road I carried my bundle of clothes like one would carry a stack of books, rather than dangling from a string like a poor hobo’s bindle. I stalled a bit by looking at hats in the millinery shop’s windows. I was going to need something warm very soon to cover my ears. Charlie followed me into the newspaper office, a little bell above the door announced my entry. It was dark but for a light coming from a room in the back where I could see a young man operating a press, the pulley whirring and all the parts moving back and forth, rhythmically producing a single piece of newsprint at a time. The man looked up and stepped into the front room.
“May I help you?” He asked.
“Yes, please. I’m looking for Mr. Dawson.” I felt a moment of panic. Maybe Roger wasn’t here. He might be out at his cabin, he could be anywhere! Before the man could answer Roger was standing in the doorway, taking off a pair of glasses. He was backlit by the warm yellow light but I could see he was smiling. Charlie ran around the front counter and jumped on Roger. Bending down to give Charlie’s head a good tussle, Roger’s eyes never left mine. I wasn’t lost in time anymore. Roger’s smile told me I was home.

We waited a long time for summer, now it has to go,
Any minute we could have that first flake of snow.
But wait – let us enjoy autumn’s warmth and glow!!!

Okay, I’m not a poet but I know beautiful colors when I see them 🙂

Ray didn’t feel very threatened by Charlie. There was a brief standoff between the two and finally Ray just walked to the back of the wagon to help unload supplies. I caught Martha smiling.
“I’ll leave right after dinner, Martha, honestly. I want you to know I’m grateful for your help. And dinner’s all ready so let’s go eat and then I’ll stay to help you unload the wagon before I go, okay?”
Earl had taken a load of wrapped parcels into the house and came back on the porch.
“Smells wonderful in there. Quite the treat to come home and find dinner waiting. I see she cleaned out the stove and brought in more wood, too.” Earl said to Martha. Then he turned to me. “Come by anytime little lady. Let’s all go eat.” Earl was a big man, maybe ten years older than Martha. He seemed patient and sweet. He had laugh lines that curled up into bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows. He had on neat canvas pants and a clean blue flannel shirt, kind of like mine, and I guessed these were his good town clothes. Earl actually gave me a little bow, and with a smile he held the door open for Martha then me. Charlie stopped in the doorway, just for a moment, making Ray wait, who followed behind with a big burlap sack over his shoulder. Earl opened the big ice box door and Ray hefted a block of ice out of the sack and slid it onto the shelf.
“Yessir, no reason the rest of the supplies can’t wait. Let’s eat!” Earl rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Martha filled a wash basin and carried it out the back door to a little table set under the eaves. All three took turns using it to wash up. I hurriedly set the table.
Dinner was a huge success, if I do say so myself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Martha proved herself a real friend. Her generosity was a marvel because I was still a mysterious stranger to her. She offered me anything I wanted out of that trunk upstairs, things she couldn’t wear anymore. I almost cried I was so touched and grateful. So I left that sweet cabin along the railroad tracks in a long black skirt and gray pinstriped blouse with lace-up canvas oxfords that fit me fine if I kept my socks on. I had the skirt and blouse I’d worn to town, another skirt and two blouses, and a few under things that would make me laugh later. Right then I was too fragile to show emotions either way, trying hard to be stoic.
“You’re welcome to stay the night, Ms. Burke.” Earl offered once again. “You can’t walk back to town tonight. I’ll take you to town myself in the morning if you’d just think sense.” It was painful how much I wanted to accept his offer but Ray stood there with something of a smirk on his face and I had to go.
“Charlie and I are good walkers, and campers too. We’ll be fine.” I repeated my thanks and hugged Martha and Earl. I bravely headed out, my L.L. Bean boots tied together and dangling over my new bundle of clothes tied up in a heavy coat that had been Earl’s. Charlie never looked back, leading the way down the dirt path into the woods that would take us to town. I turned around to wave and Earl and Martha gave wild encouraging waves. I saw Martha jab at Ray with her elbow and he finally turned away and went back inside.
As soon as we were out of sight in the protection of the trees I sat down and changed back into my boots. Not only were they more comfortable but the little oxfords had to last for a while for my life in town until I figured out a way to buy more more. I was feeling pretty cold and miserable by the time I stopped and made a little fire. I scrunched down onto a quickly made bed of fir boughs and settled my worried head on a pillow of clothes. Charlie cuddled close under the coat I draped over both of us and we tried to sleep. I dreamed of screaming chickens and dark cellars and Roger’s smile.
We got up right at dawn. No point restoking the fire, I decided to get moving right away. It sure was cold. I put on Earl’s coat and wrapped the extra large size tight around me. To my surprise I found the pockets full – I kept pulling out interesting things that had clearly been tucked in them by Martha – couple of dainty little handkerchiefs, a small leather coin purse, and a napkin wrapped around a couple of small biscuits and a chunk of cheese. Bless her heart. There was also a sliver of soap – a hint no doubt but a kind one. Charlie and I followed the path along the tracks for a while. It warmed up and the woods smelled piney and heady. I knew the river was just through the trees to the south. Since we hadn’t seen any sign of railroad workers that might give us a ride, I decided I might as well get it over with. The river was in full sun, I figured it must be 9:00 or so, guessing eight miles maybe from the Peterson’s. There was a lovely spot with almost a beach-like opening in the reeds and dry grasses.
“Want to go swimming with mommy, Bud?” Charlie took a big drink of water. The look on his drippy face was unmistakable. Nah.
The best thing was to do it quick. I stripped down to my undies and jumped in. It was at once the most exhilarating and most excruciating pain I’d ever felt. I was breathless but, boy, did I need that bath. Drying off could have happened a little quicker but I felt great. The boots went back on and we picked up our trail to town, not so much looking back now as looking ahead.