Frosty morning

We've been busy here at the manor. Work in the woodyard is progressing, albeit slowly. I cut and split a lot of the smaller logs on my own, and now the cousin needs to take care of the bigger logs. Usually, we work together, but our schedules haven't meshed the last two weeks.  

We had our first frost back on November 2. It wasn't a hard frost, though. The only plants I lost were the begonias, but they're pretty tender. The herbs in the Greenstalk are still green. 

The garden area is empty. The five-gallon buckets are empty. The grow bags are empty. It would seem a sad end to the season, but it's not. It's a readying for renewal. I've already got some seeds for next year and I'm planning what I want to concentrate on. This year I grew a little of a lot of different veggies. Next year I want to have one large crop with only a few smaller items. 

The mercury has dipped down into the low thirties at night and I've been firing-up the woodstove. Himself is happy because the living room gets toasty in the evening. I close the doors to the back of the house to keep the heat out. I like my bedroom to be cool so I sleep better. Opening the door about half an hour before I turn in warms the room up just enough. 

On the writing front, I finished Sumner's Garden and it's live at the vendors I use. Finishing that story was bittersweet. I've been writing for over twenty years and with the advent of artificial intelligence, I don't know if I want to continue to read, much less write. I was happy to see Amazon asking if the book I was offering for sale used AI in the writing. That's a NO. I don't like the idea of AI at all. I think its hidden dangers will be revealed too late to those who embrace it. 

It's time I got busy with freeze-drying again. I let it go over the summer in favor of canning, but I've laid out a plan to keep that unit working. 

The trees have shed almost all of their leaves so it's time to clean the gutters. Tomorrow looks to be the day with afternoon temps forecasted to be in the low sixties. After that, it'll be time to hop on a mower and chop some leaves. And if there's time, I'll bring over a tractor bucket of firewood and drop it outside the basement door. 

A frost isn't a bad thing. It simply signals it's time for different things to happen. It is a portent of the changes ahead, of the slide into winter sleep. The manor is ready for it. 

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, country living, rural living, changing seasons, frost, firewood, woodstove, home food preservation, freeze drying, Greenstalk, trees

Frosty patterns

Winter is not anathema to me. I've no desire to flee the season and head south. I'll grant you that living in the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States our winters are not as severe as more northern climes, but these are the only winters I've ever known. Or care to know. 

Maybe being in tune with the land makes the difference. When I go outside, my shoes do not walk on concrete and asphalt. Instead, my steps are made on the earth itself. I see the dull grass and bare trees and know they are merely sleeping, resting in preparation for the magic to happen come spring. 

Winter is full of patterns if you know where to look. Yesterday morning, the front porch was covered in a thin layer of frost. It lay in a sparkling design only ice and sun could create. 

I stood at the door, coffee cup in hand, and watched as the warming day erased the handiwork of night. Then it occurred to me to take a picture. I'm sorry I couldn't capture the sparkle, though. A few moments later, little cat paws marred the pattern as Loki decided ten minutes was enough time in the great outdoors. 

Such a beautiful thing to see, frost sparkling on the porch. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor