The Wind As Sculptor

Just before sundown last night I looked out the patio doors to see the way the day's wind had sculpted the snow that blew in with it.  It looks like a topographical map of the Grand Canyon or like the Russian Steppes--or so I imagine.

Being out in the cutting wind running errands made me think I should make cookies for the neighbor who cleared our driveway for me, so I called Durwood to ask him to put out two sticks of butter to soften for the cookie making.  I didn't think it was that cold in here but when I unwrapped them hours later to plop them into the mixing bowl they were softer than they'd have been just out of the fridge but they weren't gushy like they'd sat on the counter for seven hours in the heated house either.  What's up with that?  We keep the thermostat set at 68 degrees, that should have softened the butter nicely.  The cookies mixed up just fine after supper and they tasted the way they were supposed to (I tested various cookies just to make certain that the entire batch was fit for consumption--I'm a saint) but I wonder why it took the butter so long to get soft.

Yesterday was sign up day for lifetime Friends of The Clearing.  I waited until about 1 PM to call since in previous years I've dialed and redialed for hours in the morning to get in.  I dialed, the phone rang ONCE, and KS (just the person I was hoping to talk to) answered.  It was so unbusy that we had time to chat before I signed up and gave my deposit for my place in the Writers' Wellspring in May.  I usually go to the Women's Writing Retreat in September but since Durwood and I are planning a 2 week jaunt to the Carolinas in late September or early October I thought it'd be more considerate of Mr. & Mrs. Boss to spread my vacations out a bit.  (I'm nice like that.)  Besides it's been a few years since I've been up there in spring so I think it's time, plus May is closer to today than September is. EEEEE!

February 20--Egypt, Heart Scarab of Hatnefer.  Jean felt the cool gold of the necklace warm as it touched her skin.  She admired the gold glittering against her pale flesh.  She ran a finger over the carved beetle shape.  The ancient Egyptians believed that the scarab rolled the sun across the sky, so whenever she faced something that she wanted to be over with quickly she wore  it.  Not that she was a suspicious person, she wasn't at all, but why take chances.

Time to get a move on.  I think I'll finish edging my afghan if it's not busy at work today and I'm meeting my pal Cookie for a beer & cheese pairing dinner at Titletown, where DS makes the beer after work.  Yay, cheese!
--Barbara