The homestead did ok in the arctic temperatures, being a duplex, all the plumbing is in the center of the structure, thankfully there are no pipes on exterior walls. There is one line running through the crawlspace, but it never got below 40 degrees down there
This super-dry powdery snow is something we rarely see in Kansas. The sound of my boots on the snow is other-worldly. On the side streets where it had been hard packed by cars it resonates with a sound not unlike the geese chattering overhead. In the fresh snow it was more like crunching on celery
This week is the first leap in being visually aware of the length of the days – there’s still a bit of color in the western sky as I’m closing the store. The sun is pressing his case, laying the groundwork for his opening arguments – that winter did knowingly and with earthly forethought conspire to freeze our asses off.
I’m fully prepared to scoff at whatever lame story the defense presents. I have seeds in my pocket, basil and chard, a bucket of paint for the garage and a sweet baby-blue linen sport coat all of which are gathering up the tar and the feathers for Mr. Winter’s ultimate exit from our quiet burgh.
The jury is returning. Expect a verdict soon.