In February of 2003, Kit and I were living at Breakfast Creek. One bleak gray day, I exchanged weather news via email with my friend Ollie in Washington DC. “My God but it’s chilly and grim hereabouts these days!” he complained. Feeling the same way, I replied, “Here, too. I’m so ready for a change of scenery and season!”
by Cathy Salter
As if reading my mind that day, the weather surprised me when temperatures reached 50 degrees by late afternoon. I was delirious. Our barn cats leapt like kittens, and the geese and ducks grazed about the pasture like spring lambs. Then it snowed again in the night, and morning awoke wearing a gray face, prompting me to send Ollie a weather update. “The precious warm breezes of yesterday may reach you this afternoon,” I told him. “If they do, leave your office immediately and stand outside for as long as you can, soaking up the sun’s warmth. More snow is on the way.”
On a walk around the pond at Breakfast Creek later that morning, I stop for awhile on a bench Kit had made from an old slab of marble. It wasn’t long before Fat Uncle Mellow and Scooter Boots, two of our venerable barn cats, found me and parked in my lap. The sky was as white as the fresh dusting of snow on the pond’s still frozen surface.
~ Read the rest in today’s Journal ~
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