No Hurry

Today I feel sorry for anyone who wants to peer in my kitchen window.

Not that I'm accustomed to that sort of tomfoolery, but the heat from the stove is making peering or leering impossible.  It's difficult to see through fogged up windows.

The frost on the bottoms is a good indicator that the air is freezing. As I house-slipper my way out to the back deck to sip coffee, the cattle on the fence row prove my hypothesis by snorting steam out from their noses.  

Yeah, snorted. 

 I heard them.

I appreciate that the neighbor has returned cattle to that pasture.  I like my cross-field bovine conversations.  Most days we don't discuss much, but today we had a visit about the pickup trucks that joined them yesterday and the fence mending that took place.

We said our good days and I retreated back into my kitchen and was blasted in the face by warmth and the smell of cranberries and cinnamon simmering on the stove.

The yeast rolls are rising nicely and the vegetables are in the oven melting in swiss cheese.

I reckon I orta take a shower before time gets away from me, but the fire in the wood stove beckons and I think I'll succumb to its call to sit beside it for a spell.

We'll be over the river and through the woods soon enough.