The Snow Lay on the Ground…

3 Feb

…and the kids walked to school in shorts.


The ground here is still pretty much snow-covered, although it is melting very quickly (The high today was 55), and our pond is covered with “floating islands” of string algae.  Where the grass is poking through, it’s amazingly green for early February.

It rained today, which helped melt the snow, but it was incredibly foggy. We couldn’t see the barn or the street from the house. I have been fighting a cold, so The Squire went up to the Y by himself. I was supposed to be on the altar on Sunday, but stayed home from that, too. Nobody wants me sniffling and coughing all over the place.

I seldom get a cold, and when I do I take it as a personal insult. Really, other than a decongestant, there’s not a thing you can do, except treat it with the contempt it deserves, soldier on, and try not to contaminate other people.

The Squire and I were eating breakfast in the den this morning, and the cat kept reaching up and tapping the edge of the counter, waiting for The Squire to put some milk on his plate and set it down for him to drink. For some reason this gentle pat, pat, pat reminded me of an event that happened when I was still married to the Late and Unlamented.

I have slept flat on my back for most of my life, with one leg or the other pulled up like a flamingo. We had a cat who slept part of the night curled up in the “nest” of my knee. One morning, too early to get up, the baby cried, and I dashed across the hall to settle her back down and tried to get back into bed before Mr. Boh heard me moving around. Didn’t make it.

Just as I pulled the blankets up to my chin and closed my eyes, the cat jumped onto the bed and walked up to stare at my face. He went back to the bottom of the bed, and I could feel him sit down to contemplate the situation. Again, he walked up the side of the bed, but this time he gently, gently patted the side of my face. Again, I ignored him. Once again, Boh went down and I could just feel him staring at me. “I know I heard her moving around.” A third time, he tip-toed up the side of the bed – but this time, my husband sat up and yelled, “Dammit, she’s not awake yet!”

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