220219 snow on the hill
Feb. 19
We are small and insignificant creatures on our hill tonight. We have had intermittent snow all day and the wind that has been hounding us has taken on new strength as night has fallen. It is howling at the windows and heaping the snow in waves and crests around the doors. Our driveway is impassable by car for the drifting. It is minus thirteen and will drop to minus nineteen by early morning. The fire is blazing however, and the kettle boiled for tea. We are safe and warm. I am grateful, and very happy.
Snow spirits on the meadow:
My day was good. The mosaic project is coming along splendidly, exceeding my expectations. I washed the spring jackets; and put away clothes dislodged from their home by Rocky's bed (!), in a new place. I cooked chickpeas and made a curry soup, with Thai red curry paste, coconut milk, carrots, garlic, onions and a large can of mixed vegetables. Black pepper, turmeric, ginger, cardamom, and a teaspoon of lime juice finished the flavour. It was tdf (to die for). "Afters" was blueberries that I had frozen in August, right in their boxes, when I was sick and we had to go to Toronto. I simmered them with a tablespoon of maple syrup (of course!), a dash of salt, and 1/4 cup of water. A bowl of summer.
Our dinner, with corn biscuits (I made a big batch the other day!).Rocky and I went to the bottom of the hill for our morning outing; it was cold and the wind was bitter so we turned back there. At the end of the driveway I remind him, "in our yard" and he waits then, until I say "free", before dashing off down the hill. He hung out on the apron while K cleared the snow around the car. We were out every hour to see the snow, or a bit of sunshine that broke through.
I was throwing dog biscuits for Rocky, "Go long!", and this:
Rocky is a joy, his neat, strong dog-figure poised for action, his face full of love when he comes for licks (and nibbles!). When one is training a puppy, one may feed him his "dinner" throughout the day from one's pocket, a "crunchie" or two at a time, to assist with bonding. I only did this with Rocky on his first day, because he was adjusting so well. I keep a pocket of treats for him still. When Fig was a puppy he was fierce and would bite if disgruntled; for instance, if you wanted to handle his paws or pick him up when he was napping. (He was the size of a large squirrel.) For several weeks I fed him half his food by hand through the day when he was behaving nicely. There are so many ways to "train" a dog (or a child) without scolding, with respect, and loving encouragement. Training, like parenting, is built on the bond you have with your dog (or child!); the more connected you are, and the more you like being together, the more he will like to behave in ways that you like, for which he has been praised and attended to. He will like being with you. Karen Pryor, in her book, Don't Shoot the Dog, talks extensively about positive reinforcement. Often, "bad" behavior will go away if ignored, while good behavior, if rewarded with smiles, a kind word, a loving touch, (or bits of dried liver, haha!) will happen more and more. I continued to say, "Good dog!", all my dogs' lives for "good" behavior, to remind them, and to remind myself to love and appreciate them. M. Pryor's book is one of my favorite parenting books, though it is great for dog training, too.
The everyday chores are the stuff of life. Cleaning the counter, bringing in wood, clearing the ashes, shoveling the snow, are part of living, and we have few enough cares, to be mindful, and glad of our home and the care of it: a good day.
It is late and K has already gone to bed. There are stars, but the wind is still roaring on the ridge and blowing at the doors to get in. Rocky has been dozing in his new-found spot under my work table. He thinks that the old duvet I put down for my feet is an excellent bed, near me, but out of the way of humans walking.
Each person writes their own story, as unique as their fingerprint. On our path (to jump metaphors!), we get to meet fellow travelers and hear their stories. Thank you for visiting. Enjoy what fits your journey and leave what doesn't. Be safe and well.
Mumma Yaga
The snow at my window. The house is built into the hill at the back and my window sill is at ground level.
As darkness fell even the lower meadow disappeared, the witches just ghostly in the blowing snow. The wind roared, and in the loft, I could feel the house shake. This from the balcony:
Karen Pryor, Don't Shoot the Dog, many editions available.
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