A Dance in White


Another cold blast is about to slap us around in the coming days. Already the water lines have once again frozen up on the animals thus sending my husband into a frenzy of expletive-laced action. I’m not sure what I can do to help, and in fact I would probably do more harm than good. So I shoveled the porch, put gas in the car and assembled my layers of clothes to wear tomorrow during our predicted high of -7 degrees. Ooo, can’t wait for that! Let me just pause and think about greener days for a moment. Okay, done. Back to white. We got a fresh 3″ layer of powdery snow. Nature’s finest. Meanwhile, indoors it has turned white as well:

birds & dressOne of the things we’ve done inside to battle these cold fronts, is to tack fabric up on the west-facing windows. Yes, that’s right. It’s the no frills answer to instant insulation until we take the time to really pick out something nice for those windows. Though if it were just me, I’d rather leave the windows naked. But it is drafty. So we literally hammered scrap cotton cloth up on the windows upstairs. I will not show you what we hammered on to the west-facing front door downstairs…but I will tell you; a blue plaid duvet cover unearthed not too long ago from a 1980s LL Bean catalog no doubt. hee. Sometimes when I walk into friends’ homes that are of newer build, I wonder to myself what it would be like to live in such a fresh space, with 90 degree angles, carpeted floors, clean lines and insulated windows…and think, “Nah! I like what I got! Character! In spades!” I suppose I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And now that I’m thinking about it, I probably sealed my own fate when many years ago while I was still a kid, my family went for a hike somewhere. I’m not sure where it was, somewhere in upstate New York? But at one point the trail took us through a field and past a run down farmhouse. I remember remarking on how it was so run down looking. And my older (wiser?) sister said something to the effect that you never know, inside it could look like an Arabian palace. And in my child’s mind, her words instantly bloomed the farmhouse interior into a beautiful interpretation of arabesque wall paper, sparkling chandeliers, columns, minarets and tiled surfaces. Wow. Ever since then I’ve always looked at farmhouses and wondered what was really behind those peeling facades and crooked doors because you never know, it could be a palace…or maybe just me.

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