It is bitterly cold. I have started a fire and intend to finish unloading my car when it is light. Yesterday in half light I unloaded the meat and things that would not withstand freezing and carted them in on the sled but when I nearly lost two white packaged cartons of yogurt in the snow, decided the other purchases could wait till dawn. By the time I had cut, sorted, packaged, labeled and deposited everything in the freezer I had no desire to head back out anyway.
Apart from doing that, I just want to huddle around the fire with my dog and my book.
Well, I also want to finish the second slipper sock.
And I want to look through some old notebooks for poetry starters for new tea cozies. And maybe pull up some of Tamarack's Georgian Bay images and copy them for another series of cozies.
Frigid days make for happy hermiting. Is that a word?