Flake . . . flake . . . flake

Just scattered lazy snowflakes drifting down.  But they stick.  They stay.  We'll see how many friends they've invited to the party  . . .

Need . . . more . . . blankets

Have seen the local squirrel legions running along with dried leaves and grass clenched in their little rodent jaws, preparing the winter lodge.  And their fur grows fluffier, their tails more luxuriant.

Me, I just taped another interior plastic sheet over a window, this one in the little nook off the living room that houses my radios and some bookshelves.  That's a north window, large, and probably good for a dozen gallons of #2 fuel oil all by itself.  And we never move the shade on it, anyway.

That's the problem with interior plastic -- you have to have a window you can set the shade and leave it.  Most of ours, we want to be able to open and close.  But exterior plastic, you're sealing moisture in.  I can see the frost on our neighbor's storm windows already.  Always put the tightest seal on the moist, warm side of the wall . . .

There's your winter wisdom for the day.  Free, even.  North Woods survival at its finest.

Training for the Olympics

We've only accumulated about 2" (5cm) of snow, but I went out and swept off the car and shoveled various asphalt surfaces anyway.  We'll see what the overnight presents, whether this was a good idea or not.

I consider it the first skirmish of the campaign . . .