Sunrise 10:07 a.m Sunset 2:55 p.m.
We have been fortunate to have such a warm early winter/late fall here in the Interior. Fortunate, until last week. We got socked with a nasty ice storm, which was much worse to the north, in Fairbanks/North Pole. We seemed to receive enough damage. The trees were loaded and drooping with ice, the roads were slippery and treacherous, work and school was canceled, and then we got snow. Woohoo for snow. TRACTION!! Then the snow plows came and we're back to icy, slippery, treacherous roads. Dislike.
Saturday morning I slept in, another bonus to the sunrise coming so late in the day. I wandered sleepily downstairs to use the facilities (thank goodness we don't have an outhouse) and stopped to take in the snow falling lightly outside the living room window.
As I was standing there, Cash came running, like a streak of lightening, into the yard. That usually means one thing. He's in trouble. Ha! Just as soon as he got to the edge of the gravel, his ears perked up and he took off, just as fast, back down the driveway. Luckily I knew that Brent must be calling him, and I didn't think much of it. I continued on my way to the destination afore mentioned.
Not two minutes later, Brent and the furkids came back to the house. All in a line, and no one seemed to be in trouble. No sooner had Brent gotten through the door, than he was telling me about his attempted walk with the dogs, down the driveway, out to the road, through the woods, back home again. It didn't happen.
As he started down the driveway there were fresh prints and scrapings. Like any good dog, they marked their territory, right on top of the fresh scrapes. They continued along to the berm that flanks the East side of the driveway, only to discover more prints, and much more scraping. All of this is old news, familiar smells and sights to Ches, but not to Cash. When he smelled them, he dashed, for home. Unbeknownst to Brent. Who thought Cash was on the chase, called him back, only to discover that he was tucking tail and running home to Mama like the scaredy cat he is! LOL.
Turns out...THIS is what he was smelling... Camped out on the street outside our house. All. Day. Long.
Meet Mr. Bull. Proud old man.
And these were his companions for the day. Mrs. Moose and The Twins.
The rest of the weekend seemed to fly by. And four days was simply not enough time to play. I did some cleaning, some organizing, attempted to decorate for Christmas and realized that I don't have much of anything. And since I don't have much, I'm going to change the color to scheme more traditional Christmas colors.
Sunday night we had friends over for dinner. I fixed a lovely bacon topped pork loin, mashed potatoes, cauliflower au gratin (which was supposed to be broccoli au gratin- but the IGA was OUT), fresh rye bread and Rose brought a Delicious lemon cranberry bundt cake. A little bit of heaven in a pan.
Tonight the temperatures continue to fall. I find myself stoking the fire in an attempt to get the interior temperature above 69 degrees. It doesn't seem possible. The logs are wonderfully warm insulators, the upstairs walls are not quite so warm. And I find my hands, and nose, dreadfully cold in the morning.
Sleep tight. Stay warm. Sweet dreams!