Glued to the tube, and drawing solace from it.
I think recent events are actually conspiring in support of the U.S.of A. Once again able to feel pride.
Just before noon (eastern time) Bob Habes and I were texting real-time, and counting down the seconds to a better future.
Extreme wind (and cold) ripping through this part of the country today, but overcome by the warm feeling of good things to come.
It may be snowing here, but the clouds are lifting all across the land.
I remember reading, on the advice of my father, the Thurber essay “If Grant Had Been Drinking at Appomattox.”
Of course Grant wasn’t drunk except in the story, and he did not surrender to the confederacy. But Thurber anticipated Trump.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
… here in the United States we come now to the end of a four-year experiment to answer the question: What would happen if we were led by the worst of us? What if we searched the land and plucked out literally the most repugnant human being we could find, a walking collection of character flaws, and put him in charge? What damage would he do, and what version of America would be left in his wake?
…as long as a good book is part of it.
American beech tree
So, after naps, it’s out somewhere for a long dog walk. Then back home, and dinner prep. Next a half an hour or so of tooting my own horn (key of b-flat). Then time to feed the dog and pour a cocktail. When Pax is done with his chow we all retire to the breezeway, the fake woodstove fires up, and Pax chews his bully-stick while I do a blog. (The two operations have remarkable similarities.) Time passes and then dinner is served (often accompanied by CNN on the laptop), after which Pax goes briefly to the backyard, and then we all retire to the living room and an episode of something via Apple TV, Prime, or Netflix. (We are now watching Lupin.) When the episode finishes I grab my book, a wee bit of cheese, and a few pretzels, and move to someplace less comfortable to read. Currently a Donna Leon book (#27) that I somehow missed when reading the whole wonderful series.
Without the book as a digestif, the whole routine would collapse. There is no frigate like a book.
A kind of continuous snow-mist all day, but no accumulation. Madhouse at the bird feeder. Long dog walk through the empty campus.
We need a public square with a common set of facts. We also need to agree that elections are the best way to choose political leaders, and that some elections are won and some are lost. A society in which, if you win an election it is valid but if you lose an election it is rigged (and you win anyway), is called a dictatorship. I, for one, prefer to live in a democracy.
…in the neighborhood. A bit flaky and…
…cold-hearted, but…
…up for a little fun.
…and having a little fun (while being careful).
Non-serious, but long and annoying procedure as revenge for a life spent in the sun and on the water.
Meanwhile, the proofs of the book are in and approved.
Seven days to go.
But maybe the t’Rump speech will tamp down violence this coming week. Here’s hoping. Hard to live with the anxiety.
Some good melting today. And a few house projects undertaken.
…beneath the feeder, assuming position not long after a similar number of squirrels took their departure.
Another unusual sight—the sun, and bright blue sky. And the thermometer may have briefly touched the freezing point.
Hardly time for anything besides feeding the birds…
…as well as walking the dog and hobnobbing with cows.
Becca 7 remote birthday party, delayed Christmas gift exchange, hike, and tailgate— all at Holy Hill, the basilica in the Kettle Moraine.
…pretty much inert. Overcast, steady barometer,
little air movement, temp invariable just below freezing. Ice dams building up, so roof raking deemed necessary.
I can’t remember if there is such a thing as a sun.
…to do any real blogging.
Very impressed by Biden’s speech. I think he is the right man for the moment.
…in America, but possibly transformative.
Glued to the TV, unwilling even to take a bathroom break.
…which actually is dinner in.
Our special restaurant in Milton has daily luncheon specials which are actually more like dinners, and today we picked up a couple. As the song goes…”covid time, and the cooking is easy.”
We do think Natalie’s Restaurant will survive the pandemic.
Otherwise, I think I may have mentioned that I’ve been working on a project to establish an arboretum in the park across the street. As you might expect when the project involves a bureaucracy, things are moving slowly. So, to keep participants feeling connected and and engaged, I have been distributing a Sunday tree-related pep message every week. For months.
Now, I’m thinking that whenever I’m short on content for this bloody daily blog I might flip one of them up onto the screen. Trouble is, these weekly pep posts are PDFs which don’t quite embed in Squarespace. That means I have to create a button that when clicked on, will take you to where you want to go.
Let’s see if this works:
What with the frost, snow, clouds, and fog—all color has been erased from the landscape.
…around Lake Geneva. A low-adventure, COVID-style outing for the as-yet un-vaccinated.
Lake mostly open water. Crowd in Lake Geneva town, many sensible folks but even more morons. We had takeout from Culver’s (who seem to be taking all precautions) and lunched in the car overlooking Geneva Bay. (Pax likes Culver’s possibly more than we do.)
On the way home listened to the tape of Trump and the Georgia secretary of state—blatant criminal sedition. Republicans should be forcing Tump to resign rather than trying to stage a self-promoting coup.
Side note: with all the snow on the ground, we now have solid proof that deer are visiting the backyard bird feeder regularly. We are also pretty sure that “As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,” they did not, when met with an obstacle, come from the sky. That’s the beauty of footprints.
Too much snow, ice and slush to even consider an outdoor ride.
The hemlock
The woodpile
The basement
…approximately, of birdseed per day. In just this one feeder. Hungry birds, especially on days like this with freezing rain, sleet, and then 4 inches of snow.
Photo by Sue
Photo by Sue
Birds have high metabolism, and need a lot of food, especially in winter. If I ate like a bird—say the Golden Crowned Kinglet, which weighs about one quarter of an ounce—I would have to scarf down something like 27 large pizzas every day.
Today—cardinals, jays, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, downy woodpecker, red breasted woodpecker, finches, doves, and a variety of sparrows (which I still can’t differentiate). BUT, not a single squirrel. It is my hypothesis that the deep snow discourages the squirrels, who would be sitting ducks trying to wade through it. My guess is that they are holed up waiting for better weather.
Like me.
