Snowfalling, bookselling
The snow started falling yesterday afternoon as I was returning from dropping off my application for a microenterprise class at SUNY Geneseo. This morning it's still falling. I took a yardstick out when I went to see whether we needed to plow: 6-7 inches in the driveway, with drifts to 13 inches. Plowing, definitely.
Jason stayed inside with Henry while I plowed. The plow is on the back of the tractor, so you plow in reverse, lift the plow, pull forward to a fresh stretch, drop the plow, and back up again. I watched over my shoulder as I plowed. The snow is fine, cold enough to be firm, but not heavy and wet, fine enough to fall thickly. When the plow pushed it, curving up inside the blade and falling to the side or getting pushed back, I could see that blueness inside the snow, the kind you see in pictures of snow and ice in the Antarctic. It's a glowing blue that somehow doesn't seem to add light. No sunshine, just gray skies and blued snow.
Jason got a call from work saying they'd delayed start time by an hour, though the time they mentioned was half an hour later than when he gets in. Even so, there was time for plowing and for me to dump snow in the tray of the pickup for him, for weight and traction. He left while I was still plowing, with Henry watching from the door. I waved at Henry when I came close to the house, but my going back behind the barn to fetch some dry firewood tried his patience - that, or my disappearing. When I'd dumped the wood by the door and driven the tractor into the shed, I came out to find him outside on the porch, hemmed in by wood, crying for me. We came in and cuddled, took off his wet tights, he ate and now sleeps. I'll try to bring in the wood, feed the birds, and fetch yesterday's mail before he wakes.
Tonight I attend the first of 10-12 (I'm not sure if it's set) classes at Geneseo, this microenterprise thing. I heard about it when I had a meeting with our architect friend and the young woman who helped start Perry's farmer's market and who now does... something for... someone. Well, she's involved in some government push to help revitalize local small towns, especially Main Streets. Which, happily, is where I want my bookstore. So, a couple more steps taken. The class should help me see what other steps come next. If I want a store open this summer - and I do - then making that happen has to become my job - full-time or close enough - until then. Design, contractors, stock, computer system.... Eep. One step at a damn time, Ann.
Jason stayed inside with Henry while I plowed. The plow is on the back of the tractor, so you plow in reverse, lift the plow, pull forward to a fresh stretch, drop the plow, and back up again. I watched over my shoulder as I plowed. The snow is fine, cold enough to be firm, but not heavy and wet, fine enough to fall thickly. When the plow pushed it, curving up inside the blade and falling to the side or getting pushed back, I could see that blueness inside the snow, the kind you see in pictures of snow and ice in the Antarctic. It's a glowing blue that somehow doesn't seem to add light. No sunshine, just gray skies and blued snow.
Jason got a call from work saying they'd delayed start time by an hour, though the time they mentioned was half an hour later than when he gets in. Even so, there was time for plowing and for me to dump snow in the tray of the pickup for him, for weight and traction. He left while I was still plowing, with Henry watching from the door. I waved at Henry when I came close to the house, but my going back behind the barn to fetch some dry firewood tried his patience - that, or my disappearing. When I'd dumped the wood by the door and driven the tractor into the shed, I came out to find him outside on the porch, hemmed in by wood, crying for me. We came in and cuddled, took off his wet tights, he ate and now sleeps. I'll try to bring in the wood, feed the birds, and fetch yesterday's mail before he wakes.
Tonight I attend the first of 10-12 (I'm not sure if it's set) classes at Geneseo, this microenterprise thing. I heard about it when I had a meeting with our architect friend and the young woman who helped start Perry's farmer's market and who now does... something for... someone. Well, she's involved in some government push to help revitalize local small towns, especially Main Streets. Which, happily, is where I want my bookstore. So, a couple more steps taken. The class should help me see what other steps come next. If I want a store open this summer - and I do - then making that happen has to become my job - full-time or close enough - until then. Design, contractors, stock, computer system.... Eep. One step at a damn time, Ann.