Woke in the wee hours to the sound of rain on the roof. Woke again in the pre-dawn gray to…rain on the roof. Came downstairs at an unheard-of-late 7 am, permitted by the dogs because it was so gloomy I don’t think they quite believed it was morning. Ghost went out and immediately wanted back in because what was I, crazy? Didn’t I know it’s raining out there?
Well the morning slid along, the rain slacked off, and I decided we’d better take our morning walk to Landlady’s while we could. Hearty agreement all around, and as soon as we got outdoors it started raining again. I called a whoa while I dug out a rain jacket.
I said before that I’m a coat hoarder, and sometimes that pays off. Neighbor L had this nylon jacket she didn’t want anymore, very high quality, waterproof but not quite as fiercely so as my Gortex raincoat which refuses the passage of any molecule either liquid or gaseous. It’s marred by a comical patch marking the spot at which she backed into her woodstove last winter…
But to me that’s just Hermit Chic. As I said I have a real rain parka, but there’s almost nothing so important that it would drive me into such a rainstorm as would require wearing the oppressive thing. This morning it was more of a ‘shower.’
The boys vary in their attitude toward rainy walks. Ghost, a proper old Tory, is skeptical of such Whiggish innovations but LB likes new things within reason. Of course their respective coats might have something to do with it – LB is designed for far, far more inclement weather and except for the exciting matter of new things to smell I’m not completely sure he was even aware it was raining. Ghost, of the other hand, was looking kinda bedraggled by the time we returned to the Lair. And now he has taken to his bed, considering a stiff letter to the editor of the Times on the subject of my chronic mismanagement…
Ah, well. I’m out of bread, which makes this baking day. A better day for it, I can’t imagine. It will be warm and dry and fragrant indoors ere long.
You seem to be getting far more rain than we do here… not fair at all. 🙂 But I hear you on the bread making. Only 21 degrees outside this morning, and a cool 58 inside, so it would have been nice to do some baking. I have half a loaf left and need to wait. If I make new bread now, I’ll never eat the old – and it’s still nice and fresh. I make four half loves at a time and freeze three. They come out perfectly good, and I don’t lose any to mold anymore.
Is it my imagination or is LB bigger somehow? Probably put on a new winter layer of hair in there somewhere. My aunt had a Newfoundland long ago, and we always swore it was at least half fur. 🙂
He’s getting his winter coat, so maybe. To my eyes he’s a bit smaller, really, as his enforced diet is having some effect.
Hard to compare with pictures, of course… and then only if we had several side by side. He’s beautiful, no matter what size he is. 🙂
Buttermilk skillet cornbread is made in a cast iron skillet, starts out on the stovetop for about a minute, finishes baking in a 450ish oven, then you leave the oven door open for heat while you eat the cornbread with whatever fixins you like and a cup of coffee. I just did. Life is good. Snow is a plus. There’s nothing like something baking in the oven to warm up a cold house.