A three day weekend at The Acres. Going to be a bit chilly, however.
Have to get my walking in today--and possibly Monday. Tomorrow--wind
chills of minus 25. High of four degrees. You can hear and see the cold coming. Invisible?
Nope. The trees are in full moan. Howling at times. Dancing in the
winds. The snow is a white out. Not that's it's snowing all that hard
but the wind is using it to hide behind. Or is it hid within? Beautiful.
White "clouds" disguising The Acres in a coldwhite "smokescreen."
And there is enough real snow to cover up the pot bunker flower beds before the deep freeze. That's good. The feathered denizens must know what's coming. They have been
incredibly active and fearless all day. Ghost shadows whirring through
the white cloud. Gus is about, too, seemingly oblivious to the cold. As I
walked about this morning and early afternoon, he was in full prance
mode. I haven't seen the little hound for a couple of weeks. I hope she
didn't succumb to country road drivers. Good old dumb Gus seems to be
the lone survivor around these parts. Maybe not as dumb as I think. I
do hope Aaron has a place for him to spend the next day or two. That
windchill can not be safe for the old boy. I don't know how the birds
manage. Well, sure I do. Wonderfully created.
Hate to run--well,
walk. And, I suppose, it's love not hate. But I think I'll take one more trek before the nastiness really
arrives. The wild area was a sheet of whirling snow last time I walked
it--a couple of hours ago. Gorgeous. Cold. But gorgeous. Stay
warm--after you take a quick walk. Good for the soul. I promise.
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