Freezing Rain in February at the Hermitage

My day began at 6 with Kenya and Havoc leaping out of sleep growling at a barking dog outside. I joined them at the window. A car's lights illuminated the other side of the lake. When the lights remained stationary for a while I called Sarah to make sure Remi was all right.

Remi was fine, Pike Lake Road was glare ice, their upstairs neighbour Luigi was stuck on a small hill, Dan was pushing him before he went to work, Sarah was staying home because school was cancelled in Maniwaki, and I had an unplanned holiday from puppy walking. Whooppee! A snow day!

So what will I do instead?

I guess I will shovel the steps down to bare wood once again.

I will likely check out my own road using my ice walkers when I go for the mail. If necessary, I will arrange to have it sanded, because I have appointments Tuesday afternoon (that will be the last of my dental appointments) and Wednesday morning (an interesting one helping to evaluate a travel website ... I will even make some money doing it). I could happily remain iced in, but the road has to be passable for the garbage pick-up and Carlos.

Yesterday I made two huge pots of hearty meat sauce for pasta because Carlos is dropping Shea and Teddy off Tuesday at supper time. The dogs will stay until Wednesday evening. No, Carlos does not have an insatiable appetite and I will not be feeding his dogs spaghetti. The recipe is just huge so I make enough to freeze.

I prepare for a winter of isolation very seriously. I have so much food in my freezer now that I have to remove things in order to find what is there. My pantry shelves are lined four deep with canned goods, pasta, rice and sauces. I have canned, sterilized and frozen milk, lots of flour and yeast to make my own bread, and half a dozen store bought loaves in the freezer along with vegetables, meat, chicken and fish. Boxes of eco wood line the porch wall. I may get cabin fever but I will not starve or freeze.

I may settle in and watch movies or read all day. I am deciding between re-reading Wild Dogs, a novel by Helen Humphries, or Isabel Huggan's memoir, Belonging.

Hermits do have nice choices.