So yes, those days are over. I am now fighting ice, defrosting fonts, and trying to fatten up the livestock with some extra food to burn extra calories to keep warm. And hey, I don't want to come across as complaining (even though I kinda am). Truth is, I love this awful weather. I secretly thrive in the drama of all the season's bullshit. I love it when it's so humid I can't barely breath, and I love it when it's so cold that I can feel the air in my lungs clam up. I think all homesteaders are equally sadistic about the seasons. We take pride in taking an active role in them. They aren't scenery - they're allies. We live by them to plant, lamb, calve, hatch, harvest, and store. We dig the changes - from fireworks to fireplaces. We're quite a tribe, us hooligans in wellies.
Allison however, isn't dealing with the clam-lung. She's down in Australia, which is currently basking in high summer. She told me she found me in BUST magazine and has been following the story ever since online. She bought a copy of Scratch and has been so kind as to email a picture from the height of her garden season—which I'm certain is making every singe American reader squirm with envy... (Seriously, if you miss your garden, raise your hand...) The idea that somewhere in the world a reader is weeding (while I am praying my pipes don't explode) is a delightful truth about this round joint we call home. I'm jealous. I can't help it. But check out her sweet haul guys! Not to bad for a librarian huh? Thanks for finding me Allison, the pleasure's all mine.