Monday, February 10, 2014

the homestead

Woke at 4:50, tiptoed down the stairs. Water in the kettle? Thank god. (The sound of the tap wakes child number one.)

Trip to the woodshed. Smoky tea. Honey. Milk.

This is the house my grandparents found in the early 1950s: logging road, broken windows, floors eaten by porcupines. Five children with no running water or electricity.

We went sledding on its hillside yesterday. Skied in loops around its apple trees.

I came home and poured myself a glass of Maker's Mark which I sipped for four hours in order to keep the body warm.

Oh, there are footsteps. Oh, bright face: hello.

May your day be blessed, friends.