Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats. And maybe a border collie or other critters.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), Miracle of the Concrete Jesus & Other Stories, and several Kindle ebooks.

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Big Chill

You can read the full text of Shakespeare’s poem, “Winter,” from Love’s Labour’s Lost here, but several lines describe our recent weather:
When icicles hang by the wall . . . milk comes frozen home in pail . . .blood is nipp’d and ways be foul. . . when all aloud the wind doth blow. . . .

For a couple of days, the winds howled.

Last night, the temperature dropped into the teens. Tonight is supposed to be a new low.

I don’t have “icicles on the wall” (the winds dried up the recent rain) or milk frozen in the pail, but I do have ice in the horse tubs. Several inches of ice.

Watering wasn’t fun. I couldn’t get all the ice out of the tubs before I refilled.

Don’t know if my “blood is nipp’d,” but my fingers got really cold and my arthritis is making its presence known. I’d planned to go to Roanoke tonight, but figured I couldn’t drive well with achy legs.

And don’t even get me started on “ways be foul.”


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Blogger Amy Hanek said...

Yes, these are the days I don't have to go outside to take care of a horse! Nice pictures of how frigid things have been!

12:54 PM  

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