The snow flurries continue as does the cold. My walkway and car are covered again, but I am going nowhere so the car can stay covered for a bit. Maybe this afternoon I’ll get up enough energy to care to clear the car when I go to get my mail.

Just a little bit ago I let Henry inside. He is still using the dog door only one way, out. When I opened the door, I surveyed my little world. I cheered to see some patches of blue.

I do have a plan for the day. Yesterday six plastic bins were delivered. They are upstairs as I bought them to store the Christmas presents I buy all year. Last Christmas was a horror of bags and boxes, and it took me a while to divide the presents into piles, into what belongs to whom. Part 2 of the plan is to clean underneath the sink upstairs. It is a jumbled mess. It is a spot I put things into, but I never seem to take anything out of the cabinet. I hate cleaning, but I do like weird cleaning, weird places which seldom see the light of day. Maybe that should be a list.

The snow does look lovely on the tops of branches and in the back yard. Henry has ventured but not far, not to the back of the yard yet. I can see his route in paw prints. He seems to like the snow. Henry has a coat I bought the first winter he was here. It is a blue plaid, but Henry has yet to wear it. He is never out long enough to need a coat.

When I was a kid, this would have been the perfect Saturday. I’d have dragged my sled from the cellar and ridden it all day long. My house was on a hill, a long hill, almost to the top. We’d pull our sleds to the top, hold them in our hands, run with them then we’d throw our sleds to the ground and jump on them stomach first when they hit the ground. We’d pick up speed just about where my house was and ride all the way down to the cross street. You could hear us scream in delight because nothing is better than sledding down a tall hill fast and furiously and pretty much out of control.

During the night, we got another inch of snow. Even now there are flurries. It is cold, 34˚. The best part, well, the only good part of today’s weather, is no wind. It would feel so much colder with a blowing wind.

The snow flakes are gentle. They seem to float to the ground. Sometimes the flakes come from the north. Other times they fall straight down. Henry ran right down to the yard when I opened the door. The new snow didn’t bother him at all. I threw some deicer on the steps just in case.

Today I have no errands. I don’t even have any sort of a list. I have plenty of food. I have books to read. I have movies to watch. I have naps to take. It could be a full day.

I’m glad there was no velcro when I was a kid because I had to learn to tie a bow with my shoe laces and to connect the two sides of my jacket’s zipper so I could zip up my coat. My mother used to go crazy when I left my jacket open rather than wrestle with my zipper when I walked home from school. Zipper lessons soon followed.

Buttons weren’t easy. Sometimes my fingers didn’t work, and the buttons wouldn’t go into their holes. Finishing all the buttons took time so often I’d just button one at the top and another at the bottom.

I learned analog time when I seven. The hands took a little while to learn because the same time went by many names: 15 minutes past the hour was quarter past the hour and 45 minutes before the hour. I have never bought a digital watch. All of mine are analog. I like the moving hands.

When I was a kid, if we lost electricity, we used candles and maybe one flashlight to light the house. The flashlight was used when we went up the stairs to the bathroom or to bed. I remember sitting in the living room and watching the flame flicker. We’d wet our fingers and run them through the flame. It never hurt. We felt like we had super powers. My mother didn’t. She always told us to stop.

My morning began with coffee and sloths. I drank my coffee and watched two sloths from the Stone Zoo being fed. They are actually darn cute animals. The sloths ate apples and sweet potatoes and were given grapes as a treat. Breakfasts with different animals are a fundraiser for Zoo New England. My sister has already had breakfast with kangaroos, and she joined me and the sloths. It was fun to watch. There is no question that sloths are slow, sleepy animals. They sleep 15-18 hours a day. I aspire to be a sloth.

The morning is cold, in the 30’s. We are going to have snow showers later, but already snow clouds cover the sky. I always think those clouds have a color of their own, a foreboding grayness. The air is quite still.

When I was a kid, I never noticed the cold. My mother always did. She was a firm believer in layers upon layers, but they were a problem when I got to school. The cloak room was narrow, and we were all fighting for enough space to take off the layers upon layers, and the hooks were too small for our bulky jackets so the jackets hung side by side holding each other up. Taking one jacket from the pile meant tugging and pulling and causing other jackets to fall. We thought it was funny. I doubt Sister Redempta did. She probably scowled, and that was enough to silence a whole classroom let alone a cloak room filled with kids one row at a time.

Fun with Dick and Jane was my reading book in the first grade. I remember it was in color. It was also quite repetitive. It sort of looked like my life. Their father wore a suit to work as did mine. Mother stayed home and did motherly things like housework. Where it differed was how strangely well-behaved the children were, including Sally the baby.

I have to go out today. That makes it two days in a row. I will definitely need a nap this afternoon. As for the rest of the week, I have an empty dance card.

The rain came early and stayed all night. The morning is dreary and dark. It is warm at 53˚. Intermittent showers are predicted. My kitchen floor has Henry’s dirty paw prints from the door to the hall. I washed the floor once then it rained again. I’ll wait for a bit of sun before I wash the floor again even though the dirty floor drives me crazy. I’ll just have to close my eyes when I near the kitchen.

Everything is still. Everything is calm. The breeze is so slight it moves only the smallest branches.

The snow is almost gone from my backyard, and half the front lawn is down to grass. My neighborhood has no sewers for drainage so flooding is always a possibility. Tonight will get down to the 20’s, freezing all the wet spots. Black ice is the worse.

Yesterday was delivery day for human food. Today will be delivery day for animal food. Agway is due later. I’m even thinking of treating myself to delivery for dinner.

Every time I hear the rain beating the roof I smile and give thanks. In other parts of the country, they have been inundated with snow. I feel bad for those places which never see snow. Driving on it without experience can be perilous.

Naming snow storms seems a bit silly, but my research found, according to the Weather Channel, that naming the storms makes communication about them easier. Okay, but my local channels just call them snow storms.

When I was a kid, I would have hated the rain washing away the snow, but I would have loved the rain if it was followed by a freeze. Sledding after the storm was down icy hills. I loved the speed, but at the bottom of the hill, I’d try to steer into a plow bank because stopping was nearly impossible on the ice. It was both dangerous and exciting.

Today is warm but only in comparison. It is 37˚. The icicles are melting. The roads are wet. That horrific dangerous ice storm is heading this way, east, but not for me. Rain is predicted. The next storm is right behind this one. It will start as snow here on the cape then turn to rain. There might just be a thunderstorm. I hope so. I need the drama.

When I was a kid, Washington’s Birthday on February 22nd was within my winter vacation week, my least favorite vacation week. It was cold and not so snowy that we could go sledding. Any snow left on the ground was old, and nothing looks worse than old snow. I remember the piles of snow left on the corners of the streets by the plows melted slowly and lasted into spring, but they were blackish from road dirt. I rode my bike if I could, if it was warm enough. My friends and I ice skated sometimes on the swamp and other times at Recreational Park where every winter an ice skating rink was erected by the town. I dropped into the library. On the coldest days, I stayed inside.

That week passed slowly when I was a kid. When I was older, it wasn’t near long enough. My friends and I bowled, wandered Harvard Square, saw a movie, sometimes rambled or we just hung around together. That was the most fun.

My plan for today is simple. I am a sloth, and I am just fine with that. It seems I have become quite adept at doing nothing.

Today is dreary but above freezing. It may even reach 40˚. A bit of snow gave us, Henry, Jack and me, pause earlier when it slipped off the roof to the deck. The noise of the slipping caught our attention then the snow slammed the deck.

The front steps are wet from melted ice. I’ll throw more of the deicer on them a bit later to make sure they don’t refreeze. I have no reason to go out today.

On television detectives check trash bins near crimes for whatever they can find. Why is it that every dumpster has neatly closed trash bags, maybe some folded cardboard boxes and a tidy dead body? My kitchen trash basket is far messier. The last thing I would want to do is go through that basket, even with gloves and a mask.

When I was a kid, St. Valentine’s Day was a big day. Before the event, I had to bring a shoebox to school. That week before, during art, we each decorated our boxes with red construction paper and added sweet words written in crayon. My mother and I would walk uptown to Woolworth’s so I could pick my valentines. There were boxes of choices, all two dimensional. The sayings on the front were silly, but not to me back then.

“It’s plane to see you’re the valentine for me,” has a plane on the front piloted by a dog. Then we have the pig, “Rooting,” for me to be his Valentine. The worst I found made me groan. It has two peas in a pod on the front. The message was “Peas be my ponder.” I wonder if, back then, I understood the puns, the plays on words. I doubt it.

The night before Valentine’s Day, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote out my valentines. When I was young, my name on the back was slanted downward because I usually ran out of room. I’d put my classmates’ names on the front envelopes.

Paying attention in school was difficult on Valentine’s Day. Our boxes were on the desks just waiting to be filled. Finally, after lunch, we’d clear our desks of school work and put our decorated boxes right in the middle. Row after row took turns walking around putting Valentine’s in boxes. When we were all finished, the party started. My classmates and I had brought goodies to share. Again, row by row, we’d choose our treats then sit down and open our valentines. It was the best day.

The sun is missing. The sky is a light grey. It is cold, down to 31˚. The low won’t get much lower, 29˚. Walking on the snow is noisy as the top is crusty, and any step causes cracks to radiate from the footprints. I walked gingerly to the mail box.

My agenda for today is simple. I have to water plants and change my bed. I am toying with doing a wash, but that seems like overly optimistic planning.

When I was a kid, I’d ride my bike in winter once the roads and sidewalks were cleared. I remember how cold it was riding in the winter air, especially down hills. The ride turned my cheeks rosy and made my nose run. I always wore mittens because any stop meant freezing handle bars.

I don’t wear my winter jacket much, actually not at all. I wear a sweatshirt mostly or a fleece over my long sleeve, flannel shirts. My exposures to the cold are places like the dump or the market. I’m a run in and run out sort. I don’t get cold and neither does the car. I do wear my mittens on the first car ride of the day as the steering wheel gets so cold at night.

When I was a kid, Saturday was my favorite day. I could sleep late, not have to go to church, and if I wanted, I could go to the matinee or just roam around town having fun in the ride or in the walk. Double Creature Feature was on television, and that was the deciding factor on many cold, winter Saturdays. I saw them all, all the classics: Godzilla, Rodan, Gamera, Mothra with those tiny fairies in a cage singing in horrific, chill up your back voices and all those monster versus monster follow-up movies. I always rooted for Godzilla.

Last night was freezing, literally. The water on my top step had frozen leaving a thick layer of ice. I knew to check it. Gingerly is the perfect word to describe how I approached going down that front step.

The light on my house has icicles. I knocked down what I could. One long thick one remains. It will stay awhile as right now it is 23˚. The day will get warmer, to 26˚.

Yesterday, I actually went to the dump. It was as empty as I have ever seen it. After that, I made one more stop before home. Today I could go out or not. I’ll see how I feel later.

Jack sleeps under one of the guest rooms beds near the heater. My Siamese cats used to love lying there. I put an afghan down for their comfort. It is still there. That’s where Jack lies. Gwen is always on the bed.

When I was a kid, oatmeal was sometimes our winter breakfast. It was the old-fashion sort which had to be cooked on the stove. I swear there were always lumps, but with milk and more than enough sugar, the lumps disappeared.

On days like today, my mother sometimes put soup in my thermos. My favorite was chicken noodle. The key to eating it was to be careful pouring the soup into the thermos cover, the sort of bowl, so that the chicken didn’t plop and stain my blouse. It sometimes did anyway, but I was young enough not to care or be embarrassed.

We didn’t have ordinary, living among us vampires to be afraid of when I was a kid. They hadn’t shown up yet or maybe they had, and we didn’t know. Anyway, we had the originals: Frank, The Mummy, the Wolfman, Dracula and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I always felt a little sorry for the Wolfman. He wasn’t responsible for the reign of terror he caused. Larry Talbot got bitten by a werewolf. That’s all it took. The sad part is Larry’s father killed the werewolf with Larry’s own silver cane. Larry turned back to human form after his father had killed him.

The monsters didn’t scare me. Things like breaking my mother’s back if I stepped on a crack did. I never tested it. What if it was real?

Flurries fell last night. The walk and some steps are again hidden under snow, light snow. Given his slide on the stairs yesterday, Henry was dubious about going out, but he checked, saw the stairs were down to wood from the deicer I threw out earlier and decided to give it a try. He gingerly walked down into the yard but ran back up the stairs to get out of the cold.

The cold is hanging around, but there is no wind. Everything is still. I am venturing out into the big world and doing a couple of errands. No, the dump is not one of them. It is too cold.

When I was a kid, weather never mattered. We had to walk to and from school anyway. We had only one car, and my father drove it to work every day. Besides, my mother didn’t learn to drive until we moved to the Cape. I remember the winter walks to school especially on windy days. I froze to my bones.

Shoes have never really had much importance to me. When I was a kid, I had my school shoes and my play shoes. When I worked, I had clogs, comfortable shoes, because of all the walking I did in the halls and cafeteria. Since my retirement, I have winnowed my pairs of shoes. Now I have sandals for summer and a pair of tie shoes for winter though I often stay in my slippers, my clog slippers, when I go out.

I have signed up for breakfast with a sloth. The Stone Zoo, my hometown zoo, offers breakfasts with a variety of animals in Zoom sessions. My sister too has signed up for the sloth. We’ll get to see each other.

My friend Bill keeps track of the weather in Bolga, and I check every few days. Today it is 102˚. This is still the harmattan so the days are dry and hot, but the nights are chilly in comparison. It will get down to 70˚ tonight. This was my favorite time of year. I loved feeling cold and snuggling under my wool blanket.

I’ve been watching Terra Nova, a single season SciFi series from 2011. The plot is easy: people from a polluted Earth are transported to Earth during the age of dinosaurs. They fight the dinosaurs and other people but that’s a longer story. Anyway, I’m mentioning this because I noticed a Bolga basket on the table in one of the houses. Any time, any place is perfect for a Bolga basket.

Today is an ugly day. The sun is elsewhere, the sky is gray, and it is quite cold. I trekked over frozen snow this morning to get my papers and yesterday’s mail. My car is still snowed in as Skip, my factotum, hasn’t come yet, something about his plow. That doesn’t matter so much as I probably wouldn’t go out anyway though I do need to go to the post office.

I checked in on CNN and MSNBC this morning. The former president’s lawyers’ brief was under discussion. It seems that United as in United States is misspelled, and President Biden is referred to as former Vice President Biden. It goes on and on.

When I was a kid, a lot of snow meant a no school day which is kind of funny because we were outside in the snow as soon as we finished breakfast. We sledded, had snowball fights and built snow forts. It took my sisters a while longer to get ready for the cold and the snow as my mother helped dress them. Think of Randy from A Christmas Story, in snowsuits, hats, boots and mittens. I remember my mother reaching up into their jacket sleeves to pull their cuffs down. They didn’t know to hold them. That comes with getting older.

Henry has been out a few times. The de-icer worked on the deck steps. I can see wood in some spots. Last night poor Henry was too afraid to go up or down those steps. His back legs had slipped a couple of times. I would have walked beside him if he hadn’t decided to give the steps a go. This morning he raced up and down.

I like celery in salads like chicken because of the crunch, but that’s it. I find celery a waste of time and energy with all the chewing with little return. I do eat ants on a raft which is celery slathered with peanut butter in the trough with raisins on top. I figure the peanut butter raises celery to a new level, one with taste. I found out it is also called ladybugs on a raft. That’s new to me.

Every day I eat. What I eat is what I scavenge. My fridge and larder are filled, but I’d have to cook, and I am far too much a sloth to bother. Cheese and crackers are big as is hummus. I’m trying a new one: pineapple turmeric. I’ve loved hummus since the first time I tasted it in Accra at Talal’s, a hot spot for volunteers. It was served spread on a plate with what I think was peanut or sesame oil in the middle and a ring of cayenne around the top of the hummus. The pita bread was so soft and fresh and bigger than most. My favorite hummus currently is made by a company called Hope. I love their original and have become addicted to their spicy carrot hummus.

It has started snowing. The forecast is for snow and rain. Please, please Mother Nature or Father Winter bring on the rain.