Random thoughts

Winter isn't here yet.  OK, so it's been cold.  But not Vermont Cold. Last week I finally wore my winter coat to work - the warm toasty coat with the hood - for the first time.  Last week, people!  My fleece jacket has been doing duty all this time.  It's been warm-mitten weather, and I have had to layer up (turtleneck, sweatshirt, barn fleece, barn jacket with hood up) to do horse chores at 6:30 am, but I don't feel like every step outdoors is like embarking on a polar expedition.

We have almost no snow on the ground.  I think the ski slopes are good, because it's been cold enough to make snow every night.  The ice up by the floating bridge is reported to be 7" thick across the entire pond. But out-of-staters expect not only snow on the slopes but real snow on the ground, and it's just not there.  The hillsides looks a little pathetic, to be frank. I should be rejoicing: I have not had the doors snowed in, I have not had to put on showshoes to get kindling out of the shed, I have not had to shovel a path to the woodpile, and I have not had to use the roof rake.  But it still doesn't seem like winter.

Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?"  If winter doesn't come, will we ever get spring?
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The Christmas tree is still up.  This is not because I'm lazy, but because this tree is determined to keep going.  The man from whom I bought it had cut it December 1 and stood it up in his brook.  I didn't get to the December 3 dance (sick!) and he brought it to the dance on the 17th.  I put it up on Sunday Dec 18th, watering it regularly. I made sure to water it the morning of Dec 26 (complete with tree preservative) before I left for NJ.  When I returned on the 30th I expected it to be dry and have started dropping needles.  But no! And in fact it took in more water! It still has fragrance and the needles are still shining.  So although about half the ornaments are off, I'm leaving the lights on and I'm giving it until Jan 14.  It's been so stalwart, it deserves the extra time!

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Cooking today, soup again.  Cooks with families can make good stock whenever they roast a chicken.  But when I roast a chicken I have to be prepared to eat it for days, so a roast chicken doesn't happen very often.  The grocery had a very serious sale on chicken thighs so I bought a package of four and simmered them in water with seasonings for a couple of hours to make a broth.  Then I stripped the chicken off the bones to save for the soup.  Well.  That broth tastes pretty mild, bordering on insipid.  At least you know that there was chicken in the vicinity of the stove.  When I get right down to it, a broth-with-vegetables soup is really too thin for my taste. 

So I've taken to making a mirepoix (meer-PWAH) (slowly sauteeing finely chopped onions, celery and carrots together, along with some oregano and thyme, and today, the last of the mushrooms) and adding that to the broth. I cook that down some, let it cool a while and then puree it in the food processor. Insipidness, begone!  Then I add whatever the rest is: today, some diced carrot, some frozen green beans from the garden, some angel hair pasta broken into small pieces, and when the pasta is done I'll add shredded chicken and thinly sliced leek. If it's too much like stew instead of soup, I'll thin it with canned broth.  The freezer is filling up with soup containers.

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It may be time to think about feline companionship.  I still do not miss the cat hair.  It's the first time in most of my adult life since housekeeping was not 75% dealing with cat hair.  Part of this notion is because I have a mouse. I'm going to stuff a couple of SOS pads in the opening where the kitchen pipes come into the house, to see if this puts an end to the intrusions.

But ... my sister (thinking of my empty nest) gave me a cat for Christmas, a black and white plush one that looks for all the world the way a cat does when it's just lying on the floor. Its head is at such a realistic angle that when (as a joke) I put it on the sofa where Ernie used to settle himself it looked like it belonged there.

When I got back from NJ I walked in the house and saw the erstwhile-cat on the sofa and said "Hi, Ernie."  Last week, without meaning to or thinking about it, I came in and scratched its head.  I was not surprised when I got no response.  But now I'm saying goodnight to it as well.  I do not feel like I'm losing my mind (you may disagree) but I do think my subconscious is sending me a signal.