Today was like a bonus, a free gift, extra in every way. It was the Leap Year, that gift of a 29th of February that comes every four years. I was born in 1964, a leap year, and Joey Borter was born on that day. I was invited to his 8th birthday, the first one he could remember on the actual day. I bought him a box kite, which was the most magical thing I could think of.
Last night and into late morning we had our first snowstorm of the year in Central Minnesota. When it snows hard in December, we force our way through because we don’t want to use up a precious snow day so early. But when it comes this close to March, we cancel everything and hunker down, saying “What took you so long! We were waiting for you!”
The reason we put up with winter at all is for the blessed downtime it gives us, the pause, the peaceful breaks when everything grinds to a halt.
So work was cancelled and I got a free day. The house was flooded with white light from the snow. I lay in bed with my tea and watched Youtube videos about how to make cavatelli, thinking of the machine I’ve ordered that will arrive on Friday and planning the dinner party for Saturday. I cleaned my desk and did a good workout and prepared all my forms and receipts for my taxes. I cleared the kitchen counters and then really cleaned them.
My husband came in from his wood shop for lunch and I visited with him.
Then, since it had finished snowing, I went into town. I bought semolina and vegetables for the dinner party. I walked to the post office and dropped some mail through the slot. I stopped at the meat market for the good, local Gruyere cheese.
The snow was piled down the center of the street. A big truck trying to turn left was stuck and waiting for a tow. An old man was shoveling his narrow walk and I stopped to talk with him. I asked if it was too hard– the snow is wet and heavy. He said he is taking it easy. His neighbor “blew the snow” from his driveway, as he has the past few years. “He said he does it because I used to shovel for his mother-in-law years ago.” There were young men on four-wheelers with small plows and on snowmobiles and even a Bobcat moving snow.
At 3 p.m. I did something I never, ever do. I watched a romantic movie I had rented. It was not very good. Then I made dinner for my husband, who came in from his furniture-making shop. He and I were supposed to sew a cover for one of the chairs this afternoon, but he got distracted on a new project (so I watched the movie rather than get frustrated with him).
We had pasta with homemade sauce from last summer’s garden and Brussel’s sprouts and mushrooms from the mushroom farm up the road.
All day I thought about participating in Sara Nics’ experiment on cowbird.com. I had forgotten to take a photo– but it is only 6:37, not quite 7 p.m., so I took this one out our front door with the glow of St. Cloud in the background over the small pond by the house. It is blurry because I had to hold still for a long time to capture enough light.
