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Snowing steadily when I rise - big, light, fluffy flakes - and looks like an all-day snowfall, so I busy myself with miscellany indoors...

I patch a couple holes in the dining room walls (my main warm room, where the stove resides), restock the household pails of water, cut some dead wood into kindling, then sit down and write a letter to Mom. Should try to visit her sometime. The thing is, my newfound freedom comes with a trade-off. Don't have to drive anywhere in inclement weather such as this, don't have to punch a time clock, don't have most of the headaches and pressure that most working folks do, because I don't have to make money. But the trade-off is this: I'm more or less tied to this homestead, ain't I? I can't just take time off, take trips like other folks do. Day trips to town is about all I can manage. Besides the expense and the use of fossil fuel, if I were to drive down to Mankato for a few days in winter, my house would freeze. Can't leave in the summer, either, or the garden suffers. It's a conundrum.

Upstairs, I finally finish framing that closet for the southeast room. Then, deliberately take time for some quiet meditation. The aim is sanity: do a few things, slowly, no panic or mania, just do what I can do and remain even-tempered, by God's grace.

This evening, I get creative and use the wood stove to cook my supper (beans in broth, tea), and then to melt some leftover chunks of paraffin along with my own beeswax into 3 small candles.

The snow is still falling, and is getting quite deep. I'll have a fair chunk of shovelling to do.