We have had snow since a couple of days into January. It just keeps getting deeper. I haven’t gotten to my compost pile in weeks. I’m not up to wading through more than three feet of snow to get to it. I’m keeping my compost materials, peels and egg shells and such, in a bag in the cold outside entry way. Some day, I hope soon, I’ll be able to add it to the compost bin in the back yard.
I’m snowed in, —a delightful snowed in, I should add. I spend time at my computer and while I write I watch the snow coming down, still. I listen to the weather forecasts and think about how I’ll be snowed in tomorrow, too, and maybe even Monday, –from what I’m hearing.
Koco is curled up in her little bed beside me, sleeping. When I move around, she goes with me into the other rooms. She probably doesn’t know what to make of all this snow. Her pen, which is attached to the outer entrance way at the back, is filling with snow. I will have to again shovel a place for her to move around out there.
Today I have been doing what I like best: writing, reading, organizing, cooking a bit, and thinking of how much I have for which to be grateful.