Monday, November 26, 2012

POST-TURKEY TIDINGS

Sunset with duck…




Well, another Thanksgiving has passed and the leftovers are dwindling. That isn't, by the way, a complaint regarding leftovers, which I love…possibly more than the actual feast. I'm simply thinking about how the month of November is winding down, autumn is having its last hurrah, and this particular day has come and gone—twilight having given way to starlit darkness more than an hour ago.

But then, oh, what a glorious day it has been! Nearly 50˚F, no wind, with vast blue skies and brilliant sunshine. The sort of day that could too easily become habit-forming, and which at the very least, you'd like to see repeats of hanging around until the seasons officially change. 

Here along the river, these post-Thanksgiving days have been busy. Myladylove and I have been constructing a cobblestone hearth in the great room for a woodstove, which at the moment is parked in its cardboard carton and shipping shrink-wrap, in front of one of the bookcases. There are also a couple of red-cedar 4x4x8s stacked along one wall, boxes of nails, tubes of construction adhesive, and various tools scatted about, all of which gives the room a rather industrial warehousey under-construction ambience—not the sort of place we need to be starting to decorate for Christmas. Not to mention we have no idea where we'll put the tree. 

Finally, here's a recently acquired piece of friendly advice: If, during the middle of a dark November night, you should submit to the urge to toddle through your own living room on some now-forgotten errand—a room in which a similar cast-iron stove is sitting in the way…DO NOT, in your sleepy stupidity, look upon said cast-iron lump and give it a careless bump with your hip, as if it were an overstuffed chair you might shove out of the way. Cast iron woodstoves cannot be pushed around and intimidated. Cast iron stoves are heavy, solid, and more durable than bodily flesh. And until you have the thing seated safely on its hearth, give it a wide berth. Neither pooch nor spouse will appreciate being startled awake by your wounded howls. Nor will the cast-iron woodstove care.      

14 comments:

Penny said...

Oh dear! I guess that is one hell of a bruise.

AfromTO said...

looks like one duck escaped the thanksgiving spit-lovely photo

Grizz………… said...

Penny…

I dunno…I think it's a rather fetching swirl of saffron and puce. :-)

Grizz………… said...

AfromTO…

I prefer duck for New Year's; for now, I'm just letting him fatten up.

Carolyn H said...

Grizz, I really like your photo today. Lovely colors and the duck is nice, too! I hope your bruise doesn't last!

The Weaver of Grass said...

Well said Grizz. Get that stove installed before your balmy weather turns wintry. We installed one last summer and I cannot tell you how we worship it. Five minutes after lighting it a rosy glow permeates the room - ten minutes and it is creeping round the house. Gorgeous photograph of sunset with duck and your lovely river.

Grizz………… said...

Carolyn H.…

Thank you. I liked it, too. I was out yesterday evening with Moon-the-Dog as dusk turned to dark. (Much darker than it appears in the image.) The light on the riffle was the only bit of color, the only potential shot I could see…and that was handheld at 1/8th of a second braced against the deck rail. In all honesty, I didn't see the duck off to the left until I'd shot several frames. This one was the best of the lot.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

In another house, some years ago, I heated full-time with wood, and I've always missed that wonderful radient heat. Nothing else compares. Seeing as how we had the wood, we've been meaning to put in a wood stove since moving here; this is the year for finally getting around to doing so. I can't wait until it's up and going—especially come one of those bitter winter nights in late-January when the northwest wind sobs around the eaves and sleet pelts against the windowpanes like buckshot…and I'm all cozy with a good book and that cheery heat.

Jayne said...

I've often been heard to exclaim on wonderful fall days like you describe that my idea climate would be that it stays just like that for three months out of the year. :c)

Boy, you all don't shy away from home projects! Good luck and blessings on your toes and flesh until it's completed and we see the lovely results.

Grizz………… said...

Jayne…

November is one of my very favorite months—and a big part of of that comes from the light and weather. I love the unique light of November. And the moody weather, including both fair and foul days, is especially to my liking and personality. I like that you need a jacket much of the time, that the nights get decidedly cold, that mornings come frosty…and that when on those glorious middays when the sun is shining bright, you can sit on the deck in a rocker and enjoy a cup of warming coffee while chickadees and nuthatches, juncos and red-bellied woodpeckers work the seed feeders practically at arm's length. Yup, I'd take three months of November in a heartbeat.

AfromTO said...

you know your photos are so lovely I stop back and gaze at then numerous times.

KGMom said...

Hmmmm, the voice of experience sounds in the land.

Grizz………… said...

AfromTO…

Thank you. I know you aren't the biggest fan of my summertime butterfly and dragonfly images…but even if it's just a shot of rocks, leaves, or a woolly ol' spider, I do try and compose them with an eye to good color, background, and graphical layout. Obviously, some work a lot better than others—and sunsets, with or without quackers, are hard to mess up.

Grizz………… said...

KGMom…

Indeed! A breath-sucking painful experience…and one acknowledged sufficiently loud amid the dark of night as to cause hoot owls in the sycamores across the river to be rendered temporarily sterile.