Snow Day


The trail back along the old hog pen was still and silent, muffled by the thick mantle of snow.


The pond is frozen over.


Everywhere the bleak gray of winter has been replaced with a pristine layer of clean white snow.  An elegant cloak.

What a Difference a Day Makes

  Quite a change from the other morning.



panosnoday2  A couple of night visitors braved the cold to investigate the flower boxes along the front porch, hoping for leftover pansies.


  By late afternoon yesterday the lane the lane was open to traffic, thanks to the kindness of neighbors. 


  Up hollar life goes on.


Scattered, Smothered and Covered


The moonshiner dropped by last night with a quart jar of his specialty, Apple Pie.  “Do you know what you’re lettin’ yourself in for?” he asked.  He looked for all the world, like a concerned father.  “Hit’s gonna be 17 inches. Seven-teen,” he repeated.  “That’s more’n last time.”

In the lane, his battered old pickup rumbled and sputtered while he stood on the porch stoop talking about the trouble I might be in.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just might be here awhile, that’s all.  Guess you’ll be stuck at home, huh?” I nodded toward his old truck.

“Why that truck got me to work the morning after the last big snow,” he said, indignant. “It gits places don’t nobody git in the snow and ice.”

Clearly I’d stepped on some toes.

“Well, good,” I said, trying to soothe his ruptured ego. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Of course, it’s about noon and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him coming along the lane.  Surely he wouldn’t be ready to risk this snow…



Red Sky at Morning, Sailor Take Warning

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This morning the sky glowed red-orange above Lil' Sister cabin. The NWS put up a fearsome forecast of the approaching storm and expected accumulations. Across the lane, we are ready, hunkered down and snug as bugs, awaiting our first snow-in. Maggie, the dog, could care less, but I am still a kid, waiting for school cancellations and enough snow to take the Unnamed Ones' sled down Joe's side of the mountain.


Bitter Cold Outside, Toasty Inside

Yes, it is cold.  It was 16 outside when I reached the little log cabin late yesterday afternoon and below freezing inside.  But now it is warm and toasty.  Fires are going in the woodstove and fireplaces.  Cinnamon rolls are rising and almost ready to pop in the oven.  Life is good here.  Sweet and peaceful.

At least, unlike my friends below, I am not living outdoors.







The Christmas Spirit

  Before the Christmas Spirit evaporated in a swirl of dust bunnies and pine needles, we managed to eek out some truly good times.  They’ll stay like spuds in the root cellar- providing colorful memories to dine on until the gray gloom of winter gives way to warm and hopeful spring.

A few of my favorites…

The shotgun shell Christmas lights- a gift from my buddy, Ellen.


  Lovey and the Unnamed Ones sledding in the Big Snow.



  The big, fat, happy tree.


  The interpretive cookies fashioned to resemble the out of control dogs who live amongst us.


The fun and games…






  The lights…



   Maggie thinks she in no way resembles the blood-thirsty dog portrayed in the Christmas cookie and says she will honor Christmas in her heart.


  I, for one, believe her.