my genes

There has finally been a bit of snow to cover the ice. Oh, it is still there as evidenced by the odd slip, but it’s mostly obscured. I can actually walk outside. Hip hip hurrah!  I did try walking in the field but with the ice just thick enough to carry my weight for a split second, it was more of a crashing lurch, so I only went as far as I needed to get the naughty dogs where were suddenly deaf.

Jo Ellen and Don were guinea pigs for another new recipe last night. The curried potato soup was a clear winner. I was glad that I did a double recipe cause now I have 3 containers in the deep freeze garage. That means no cooking for a few nights, which may or may not be a good thing - I’m in the mood to cook!

I’ve been making an effort to be more active and to at least get on the treadmill most days. I stepped on today but barely made it 10 minutes before I was too exhausted to continue. Geesh. It is like a step back in time to last summer when I could barely take two steps before collapsing. I hope it is just from the late night last night…

Our days (especially mine) have been slow and uneventful except for the bright spots of supper company. I don’t mind. Carm and I were prepping supper yesterday afternoon and it felt so comfortable, content, easy. I think my Norwegian genes have set me up for long quiet winters with not much excitement and nowhere much to go.  This year I’ve stopped fighting it with other expectations of myself, and instead am taking pleasure in the somnolence. The odd bit of cooking with the associated company has also buoyed my spirits.

“Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into the vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay—
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses…”
~Charles Kingsley, Junior