Our winter continues. Each day begins with clearing the steps. Each day ends with clearing the steps. In between we shovel out the mailbox, because we are fond of snail mail and paper news. Miss Sadie and the Cowboy do not even ask to go for rides. They retire to the dog room for a long winter’s nap. The little house in the big woods is quiet.
I write. I read what I write and conclude that no one else will want to read it. I save up errands and run them in batches between bouts of blowing snow. I come back with fat books and quantities of provisions. I make soup. Yesterday it was chicken noodle with vegetables. Nothing makes me feel quite so secure as a nice soup thick with noodles, with plenty of leftover chicken for sandwiches. I’m rich, I tell you, rich.
However.
I am becoming a slug. Bruce the Weatherman noticed that production was slowing down at Torch Lake Views. He decided to Take Measures. Last night he sent me a photo essay on Winter in the Township. During the 15 minutes of sun that we had yesterday, he managed to capture the road into Barnes Park at its winter best.
He also found time to check the ice cover between here and Northport. On Friday he couldn’t see open water anywhere—just cold blue shadows.
He also cleared snow from the 50 steps that lead down his bluff to the beach, only to find that there was nowhere to go on the beach. The snowpiles in front of the steps are as tall as Bruce himself, and another drift 20 yards south appeared to be about 12 feet deep. I may investigate with my snowshoes, he wrote, but I wonder if people have been known to disappear in deep drifts.
They have been known to disappear, Bruce. My friend Katy went out to tend the horses and found waist-deep drifts between the house and barn. She persevered, and halfway there she fell down. I thought “this is it—I’m going to die here,” she told me. Then I thought the paper would report “Elderly woman dies in snowdrift” and I thought I’d better get up. From which we can infer that all a person has to do to accomplish difficult things is to find the proper motivation.
That was all yesterday, or perhaps the day before, I lose track when I’m in the middle of a fat book. Today Bruce is competing in the White Pine Stampede. You might think a Geezer would have more sense, he wrote. I don’t know about that. It is possible to come to grief in any number of ways. It is also possible to come to joy, and we might as well go do that.
Torch Lake Views 
uphilldowndale
February 1, 2014
Nothing quite as comforting as home made soup. Your snow looks more beautiful than our sodden land, but I know both can be wearying to all.
Gerry
February 1, 2014
In principle I think I would rather be snowed upon than rained upon for extended periods, but then again, it is significantly easier to heat a house during a rainstorm. Sigh. More soup.
Belinda
February 1, 2014
What pretty pictures and the soup looks good. I have been home 3 days off school because of snow here in Va. Beach and the snow here isn’t much of anything. But I’ve enjoyed catching up on my Family History.
Gerry
February 1, 2014
It can be fun to settle in for a nice cozy snow day. Hope you found many interesting trails to follow.
shoreacres
February 1, 2014
Oh, yes. People can disappear in snow. A friend who lives in Portage la Prairie, nearish to Winnepeg, reported a few days ago that during their blizzard a 20-year old disappeared. They didn’t know she had disappeared until the next morning, when she was found in a snowdrift. Caution is advised.
The photos are so wonderful. I never saw snow or ice with a blue tint until I went to Glacier Bay. Apparently Iowa snow tends whiter, with no water around. Or something.
Last week we were what passes for really cold here. Iced roads and bridges. Iced steps. Frozen-solid bird baths and such. I made soup, too. Now I’ve got enough in the freezer to keep me through February. Bring it on!
Gerry
February 1, 2014
Soup is very sustaining.
Our snow, in and of itself, isn’t especially blue, but the shadows are. That blue glacier ice is astonishing. The world is full of interesting things, probably only about half of which are actually dangerous. Probably.
tootlepedal
February 1, 2014
It must be annoying to have all sorts of potentially interesting shots to take but not be able to get out to take them.
Gerry
February 1, 2014
It’s even more annoying to feel . . . uninspired. Then on top of having no post, I have no character. Fortunately I redeemed myself with the soup.
Martha J
February 1, 2014
The soup looks just like what I made the other day and made me sorry we ate it all. The photos are beautiful and the snow always looks much better up there. I ventured out with my 55 pound beast this morning, but I had to put a neon orange scarf on him so I could see him in the snowy downpour (he is almost white himself). He doesn’t seem to mind the snow one bit and always looks at me as if to say “what kind of a baby are you?” Apparently a pretty big one, since now I want to make cookies and curl up on the couch with my current book which is great – “One Summer” by Bill Bryson who is the best (and funniest) travel writer. It is the fascinating story of America in the 1920s – fantastic winter reading!
Gerry
February 1, 2014
Thank you, Martha. We haven’t had as much snowy downpour as you have–and I am certainly not complaining!–but it is difficult to keep track of the Cowboy in the snow, especially when he flops down on the trail to chew the snowballs off his paws.
I love Bill Bryson, and have not read One Summer. Thank you for the terrific idea.
Wendi
February 1, 2014
Wake me up when the snow stops. I am going into hibernation 🙂
Everyone have fun without me.
Gerry
February 1, 2014
It is not possible to have fun without you.
georgettesullins
February 1, 2014
Goodness, be careful out there and don’t get lost in a snow drift. The best part of fall and winter is a good thick soup and the perfect sandwich! My favorite stock? V-8 juice with whatever is left in the frig + browned lean hamburger and the perfect spices.
Good news! I’ll be returning to TC to visit friends at Clam Lake/River and probably visit the Alden library to stay in touch with my online class.
Gerry
February 1, 2014
I am fond of V-8 juice for soup too, although I wish it had less salt. (I wish almost everything had less salt. Except potato chips. Potato chips are perfect just as they are.)
You will enjoy your visit to the Alden library. (That is a prediction, not an order!)
Martha
February 1, 2014
One time when I was in high school, and on my way to school, my car ran out of gas. I had to walk to the nearest gas station in deep snow. On my way I unknowingly wandered over to the edge of the ditch along the highway and quickly disappeared. All that was visible were my arms and head. And it was a laughing head. I was stuck and laughing myself silly.
Obviously, I did not disappear until the thaw; I managed to leap up on the snow like a seal on ice.
I’m a homebody and I am never as content as when I’m cooking. And eating. You go, girl.
Gerry
February 1, 2014
Martha, I can just see you leaping up like a seal. That is because you are about as big as a minute and fit as one, too.
I have enjoyed cooking this winter. The cleanup not so much. Miss Sadie and the Cowboy are enjoying it, too. They get lots of scraps to garnish their kibble.
WOL
February 2, 2014
Nums! Chicken noodle soup inside. Snow outside. That sounds just right. I rebummed my bum shoulder last month trying to wrestle a 40 lb bottle of water onto the water dispenser so it has not been fun for me lately. I’m due for some MRIs and possibly shoulder surgery. Again. Same shoulder. I could use a big steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. They say it’s good for what ails you.
Gerry
February 2, 2014
I am so sorry about your shoulder. These are the things I worry about as I wrestle 40 lb bags of dog kibble up the steps, too. If this were fiction we would come up with some clever strategems involving levers. I wish you a good neighbor bearing soup.
Gail
February 2, 2014
My, what a beautiful, organized refrigerator shelf! Wish my ‘fridge would magically transform itself with neat rows of home made food in containers that show the deliciousness inside. I would then become the envy of family and friends, the home economist of the midwest. A pioneer that has prepared for winter’s worst.
But when I open the refrigerator door, chaos greets me as I put another bowl of leftovers in. Maybe I’ll transform the shelves next week. Pizza anyone?
Gerry
February 2, 2014
I promise you it was not so organized six weeks ago. But under stress I can become a whirlwind of determination. Imagine: I threw out all the ancient dusty spices. All of ’em.
But that was then and this is now and disorganization creeps back on little spaniel feet.
Joss
February 3, 2014
Well, I DO feel inspired! After following that link to the White Pine Stampede, and seeing all those enthusiastic and energetic people, I now have strong desire to get out and get breathless. There’s no way I would ever climb on board a pair of skis and there’s no danger here of falling in a snow drift either, but still, I could just walk up a hill. And before I go out I could whip up some inspirational chicken soup too. You’ve made my day! I suggest you go no further than the bottom of your steps though. That’s serious weather you’ve got there.
Gerry
February 3, 2014
I was thinking about walking up the hill behind the house but wading through the snow to the base of the hill used up all the get up and go I had. I turned around and got down and went.
I have concluded that all weather is serious in one way or another. Chicken soup is called for.
Dawn
February 4, 2014
Chicken soup could quite possibly cure the world. And you are correct. Might as well come to joy.
isathreadsoflife
February 22, 2014
Soups and books, both sound very good to me (have you tried lentils soup ?). Keeping warm under a quilt, your furry friends nearby, looking out of the window at a unique landscape. Cold weather has good sides too. Be careful around those snow piles. You like fat books ? Why not “plunge” into Murakami’s “1Q84” ? I have an idea you will like it 🙂
Take care, dear Gerry.
Gerry
February 22, 2014
I loved 1Q84. I went looking and discovered that I was reading it in another February (<a href="https://torchlakeviews.wordpress.com/2012/02/11/another-precinct-heard-from/” target=”_blank”>Another precinct heard from). What is it about winter and fat books anyway? And yes, I like lentil soup. I haven’t made any in a long time, but the winter is not over . . . . Let me know if you have a favorite recipe. I tend to sling carrots and onions into everything – and, um, butter. I am fond of butter. But I think I should break out of my rut.