Yesterday was the opposite of the day before. Wednesday brought a moody morning and a sunny afternoon.
Yesterday, no moody, cloudy morning - instead, a fiery, orange sun rose above the horizon, bathing the farm in the warmest, golden light.
But, though the light was warm in color, there was no actual warmth. The previous night's rain clung, frozen, to the grass and fences. Gates were frozen shut - requiring a little hammering of locks to free the birds for the day.
After chores, I was in the mood for a hot breakfast. I had been waiting for colder weather to try making some freshly ground cream of wheat from our supply of organic wheat berries.
Normally, to grind flour, I set my flour mill to setting "1". For cream of wheat, I set it way over to where my metal pointer is...
which made for a much coarser grind. It was a bit coarser than store-bought which gave it a wonderful texture... not to mention the very best taste... much more flavorful than store-bought.
Breakfast was farm-fresh eggs, over-easy, on a bed of sautéed, shaved Brussels sprouts with some shredded cheese on top, homemade yogurt with pomegranate, and a small bowl of cream of wheat - a perfect breakfast for a cold morning.
Jack built a fire in the fireplace and the house became quite cozy. I spent the morning getting some things together for the local thrift store and knitting by the fire.
By afternoon, the clouds had rolled back in again, delivering a light drizzle of precipitation.
Despite the rain, we took our usual woods walk, after first stopping by the barn to throw some hay to the donkeys and horses. Not fans of the drizzle, the donkeys were hanging out under the overhang in the front of the barn.
After gathering the day's chicken eggs, we headed to the woods with the dogs. It's hunting season here, and although our woods are posted "no hunting", all of the land around us is hunted - so, we take no chances and wear bright colors when walking the woods. We also keep the dogs close by.
Jack had walked the perimeter of our acreage over the previous weeks, replacing lost Posted signs with purple spray paint.
In Pennsylvania, these purple splotches on trees mean the same thing as a no trespassing sign and are much less impactful to the trees.
As I sit here finishing up writing this blog post, I am toasty warm - sitting in the loft above our living room. The fireplace is below us - the heat rising to make this the warmest room in the house. Through the large picture window, I can see the winter woods behinds our house. I can see the winter birds flitting to and fro in the trees and the squirrels as they jump from branch to branch. If I sit here long enough, I can watch the sun set over the distant mountains. This room is our favorite room in the colder months.
Both sides of the room have built-in shelving filled with our books. To my left, Chester is asleep on the floor.
To my right lies Forrest, dreaming.
Somewhere out of my line of vision, Annie is here as well. As is Jack, reading, on an easy chair in the corner. Above his head, hanging on the wall is an antique trapper's basket filled with old pelts. I am no fan of trapping, but justified these pelts as they were in an antique store. Most of them are fox pelts. They remind me of the fox stoles that older women would wear around their necks in church when I was a child (I believe that is exactly what these were at one time). That always fascinated me as a child.
If you asked me to paint you a picture of perfect contentment... it would be just this!
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Jeannie