Bouts of pouring rain douse the laundry, frozen in a heap in its basket next to the lumber pile, so I can make a trip to the laundromat tomorrow. Just in time; I’m down to wearing my dress slacks again. The chickens are moist but no one’s shivering. Forty-three degrees Fahrenheit at eleven P.M. on New Year’s Day – what’s up twenty-twelve? Is this swampfloody mess the new normal? Am I overreacting? (After all, my baby sister was born during a January rainy spell in Wisconsin almost sixteen years ago.) Clearly the weather is changing, but maybe it’s too much to talk about The Coming Changes all the time. I’ve been having nightly dreams about the apocalypse for months.
Anyway, the intention is to track this year with a blog post a day. I’d love to start the year off with a brilliant post, but to be quite honest, all the buildup to this new year (self inflicted, I know) created nothing short of a big ‘ol…I dunno. So I’m going to have a glass of red wine, snuggle deep into the down, and watch the latest movie about Colony Collapse Disorder. Go bees. Is there anything sexier than being a beekeeper? I do believe I’d like to have a go at it sometime soon…
(And no, I don’t always “relax” by watching documentaries.)