Three degrees F (-16C) here in the back of beyond this morning and a dusting of snow over night. Every cold morning fills a double duty. It is one more day saved from the drudgery of summer and one more day closer to that self-same drudgery. I’m pondering planting summer veggies indoors as I have for eons. What if I didn’t? What if I didn’t nurture those little sprouts? What if I waited until the beginning of our growing season (May 31) and let the garden do the heavy lifting even if it only has 15 minutes to do it? Last year I ended up with six tomato plants (seven including a volunteer). Maybe there are volunteers in there just waiting for the right moment to thrust their little tomato heads into the summer day.
Yesterday Polar Bear Yeti T. Dog and I headed out for a long walk. LOTS of snow had been promised overnight, but we woke up to the same bare sidewalks we went to bed with. A friend texted me early, “Where’s the snow?”
All I could say in response was, “Bummer.”
“Maybe later,” she answered.
So…the moment flakes began to fall Bear and I went out. My plan was to go through the golf course to an open trail that leads away from town along the irrigation canal. I walked it when I first moved here but it was so covered with debris it didn’t feel safe. In the meantime it’s been cleaned up and it’s wonderful. I now have an “Icky Man” free summer walk close to home when the wildlife refuge is closed to allow the geese to breed and people are (gasp!) playing golf.
The snow fell, fog drifted slowly, I stopped to take it all in, (Bear probably thought I’d found a scent). At our turnaround point, I looked out into the slumbering fields of the Big Empty. Fog covered the mountains and dimmed distant trees. Light through the moving clouds came sporadic and lovely.
We turned back. Nearing the end of the good part of the walk, the warbling Sandhill Cranes told me to look up.
New snow swirls
Hundreds of cranes call from above
Fog hides Pintada Peak
My skis whisper on the icy crust
Below today’s soft gift.
I’ve also started an oil painting. I could have done better planning, but I will figure it out. I’d forgotten how fun oil paints are.
“Summer is the season of inferior sledding” - Inuit proverb 
Loving the colours on your painting
Thank you! They are pretty much the colors of my world right now.
Yes very similar to your photo at the top of the blog. Very fresh!
It’s a scene I watched on Monday driving back from the story (18 miles away). I was amazed at how WHITE the mountain tops were compared to the white fog and white snow on the ground. It was the way the sun was hitting them even though I couldn’t see the sun anywhere. I wish I’d thought about the foreground, though. I didn’t :p
You can work it out I’m sure x
I will — I hope and if I don’t, the world won’t come to an end. 🙂
Was supposed to snow overnight here too, but the sky forgot. But also, the sky is white and that usually means snow is on the way — soon — and we’ll be at the doctor (cardiologist) where hopefully, they will thump me on the should and tell me I’M FINE. I like when they do that.
Fine is definitely the word you want to hear. Good luck!
Wonderful painting in oil. How do you manage with the smell. Mr. Swiss painted in oils long ago and I had to open the windows afterwards. I suppose the kitchen wasn’t the right place for oils.
The stuff I use is odorless or low odor, a development of the company I buy from, Gamblin. I’m glad because I have no ventilation in that room other than the door to the kitchen and it’s too cold to open windows right now.
A lovely poem and painting dear Martha, the landscape looks so beautiful all in white 🙂💖 xxx
Thank you! I’ll have to hang the painting to get through the coming summer 😉 ❤