I had to face up to the fact that winter is coming and so spent some time readying the chicken house. It seems like just the other day that I tore the plastic from the windows to let in the new spring air. Today I trudged down there with my roll of plastic, my scissors, and my staple gun to put it back up. The job was relatively easy and the day was sunny and mild, but I couldn't help feeling a little sad about the end of another Fall. The years really do seem to trip over themselves as one gets older, racing by so quickly that it is impossible to get accustomed to one before it is sliding into the next. I notice this often when I write the date and realize that I never get used to what year it is anymore. I believe that we who live with such dramatic changes of season notice time passing more than those who live in a more constant climate. I remember my father once talking about the fact that if we couldn't perceive change, we would have no sense of time passing. I wonder if nothing ever changed, would there be such a thing as time? We have invented time to organize change, but if nothing changed, there would be no need for time. Well, the point is moot. Times do change.
I also put up one plastic storm window in the dining room. I hoped the job would be less than it was because I want to do all the windows in an attempt to lower my consumption of fuel this winter. I can't say that it was really difficult, but it was time consuming and troublesome. I have trouble with a lot of things that should be easier, because I am so short. Reaching the tops of the big windows in this house means climbing on furniture and balancing on window sills. Once I am there I am always dropping tacks and hammers and other necessities so that I am up and down until my energy is sapped. Nevertheless, I am blessed with determination and eventually the job will get done.
Yesterday I cooked a boiled dinner of corned beef, potatoes, carots, turnip, and cabbage. I also made a cake, which I sampled so much that by the time dinner was ready I had no appetite for it. I look forward to having it tonight. A boiled dinner seems to be a Fall ritual with me. I don't notice it until I smell it cooking, but then I realize that every year at this time I feel the urge to make one. The smell of cloves and black pepper steaming with meat and vegetables is warm and wonderful and comforting. Cold weather has its compensations.