The Full Snow Moon

Last Monday was the Full Snow Moon, but who ever believes in those old labels, I thought.  Actually, I do now, even though the first big snowstorm didn't howl across the Plains and reach here until Thursday morning.

Just when the tulips thought it was safe to poke their pointy leaves out, a foot and a half snowdrift covered them.

It was a fine snow that insinuated itself between the window screens and glass.  Driven by a strong east wind, not quite a blizzard, it made the house appear to be on the move. That went on all day and night.

The next day, I got on my sled and carved out a new sled run.  The snow was deep enough that the sled made growly noises as I lurched downhill. The following day it was much faster. The bright afternoon sun  made red, blue, green, gold and silver sparkles in the snow, diamonds to me.

Sunday, it was 41 degrees. Local roads were clear and dry, except for my gravel road, which was muddy.  We were warned that another big snowstorm was on the way, so everyone and their brother was at Walmart stocking up. All seemed in a cheery mood. I was relieved to be able to get some fresh half and half, without which my life is not complete.

Sledding when it is not freezing out is much more fun.  There was, however, some sleet on the top layer of snow, making it hard to steer the sled.  Steering is accomplished by digging in a heel to avoid careening off course, into the trees and brambles. Packing into my pants legs, the icy stuff gave me chafed ankles. Loss of control was more of a problem in the deep snow.  Many times, I laid the sled over on its side and did a snow plow with my body. With no one to see or hear me, I screamed and laughed a lot.

On Tuesday, I awoke to several inches of wet snow, the first of many to fall that day.  It cancelled almost every business or activity here in northwest Missouri. My sled run was abandoned when even more snow fell on Wednesday.  There were drifts up over my knees, so even getting down to the sledding hill seemed like more effort than it would be worth.  Call me a wimp.

Gone was the wind, but the snow kept piling up against the storm doors so I had to get out and shovel it repeatedly.  I don't really mind shoveling heavy deep snow, but there seems no thrill in it.  I did not scream or laugh.

The mound at the lower right in the photo above is the cats' igloo.  There's a plastic one under the snow. The cats and dog were safely indoors, hogging the best spots by the wood stove.

Because of my concern for small seed-eating birds, and a certain amount of laziness, I hadn't cut down the remains of last summer's chicory along the road.  With the advent of a foot of snow, the birds had the equivalent of a scaffolding to reach the topmost seeds.  It's Nature's way.

Next year, I'll beware of the Full Snow Moon.

Rites of Spring

For me, spring comes when I start the broccoli and cabbages under lights.  That's when I breathe a big sigh of relief that it won't be winter forever. Potting soil is not as fun as dirt when it comes to digging, but without the early starts there is no playing in the real stuff.

Outside, some brave daffodils have come up, cheered on by encouraging words from me.  It always manages to snow on the daffodils in bloom, but they are tough flowers that laugh at the cold.  This is one of the beds I dug up and planted last fall.  What a welcome sight!

Now on my 42nd Rosie cart of firewood, I find the novelty of running the chain saw has worn off.  However, I do love the cozy fires, so am continuing to cut wood. Beau gets tired out running through the woods and appears eager to return to the couch. Now that there is soft mud on a small hill, Rosie can't manage to get over it. I have to bring the wood out in the little wagon. All the while, I'm scanning the woods floor for signs of life.  Some tiny green leaves were found, so bright and colorful against the endless browns of winter.

The river has lost its ice and sparkles in the sunshine.

There are projects afoot for the garden.  First, I've set up this old empty barrel for the base of the rain barrel that I ordered. It will make for a  bit more water pressure.  I may paint it because it's rather ugly and will clash with the red hollyhocks nearby.  The former owners installed an insecurity light on the pole to the right, but I am an advocate of the dark sky on account of being an amateur astronomer.  The first thing I did when I moved here was pull the plug on the light.


From my Home Depot, I scavenged two old glassless, screenless, toothless storm doors. As soon as I pick up some metal screws, I'll connect them with the conveniently still-attached door hinge.  Covered with plastic film, they will be a grow tunnel. Not as classy as metal hoops, but free and very sturdy.

Snow is still a possibility, but I have projects to keep me busy. Well, that and more wood-cutting.