It
is lightly snowing as I write, snug as a bug in our warm house. Arcadio is, as
usual, stretched in front of the stove - as close as he can get to where the
blazing fire flickers through the glass without himself bursting into flames.
(Sometimes when I feel his hot fur I worry about this possibility.)
All
in all, it has been a good winter here in Dordogne, with not too much snow or
freezing weather - just a few pretty dustings and enough cold to justify
lighting the woodstove each day. Fortunately, we abound in firewood, the
blessing of our thirteen hectares of surrounding forest, and the fruit of all
the chopping and stacking we did in preparation.
Of
course we missed the worst part, back in January, when we escaped south to Lisbon
and enjoyed the warmer temperatures of sunny Portugal. And Mother Nature may
yet have a punch or two in store for us, lest we chortle too soon and find
ourselves (as we did last year) with late-season blizzards and plummeting
thermometers.
It
will be a shame if that reoccurs, as the deep freeze we experienced last spring
absolutely ruined the cherries, plums, figs, apples, peaches, and pears. We had
hardly any, and the fruit that did manage to emerge were stunted and bland.
At
this point we have to be content, especially when we hear of the devilish
storms that seem to keep pounding other spots around the globe, disrupting
whole continents, creating havoc, and discomforting friends and family. May god
grant us all respite from foul weather.
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