The problem with a January thaw is that you get your hopes up, and invariably your hopes are dashed. I guess January is the wrong time of year for hope, and a better time for stoicism.
We got a miserable little dusting of snow yesterday and last night—the kind of snow that looks like cold Appalachian wretchedness, with bare frozen ground showing through, and the mud of last week frozen into ankle-busting pits and humps—but this weekend looks like a real snowstorm, and if it can’t be summer, it might as well be snowy.
The girls brought in 5 3/4 gallons of milk yesterday. The day before I made a gallon of yogurt, a gallon and a half’s worth of fromage blanc, and gallons (it seems like) of hot cocoa. It’s now time to start making real cheese again. How unutterably lovely.
Related posts:
- Cooling the Morning’s Milk ...
- No News Yet Yesterday was cool and damp and misty---I had forgotten...
- The Long, Long Month January is endless. Today the rotten snow, the gray sky...
I guess the reason I don’t like snow is because we tend to only get that frozen dusting with ankle-turning divots all along the way. I’ve been told the weekend is supposed to be bitterly cold here…
Anyway… Yeah for the milk and all the cocoa and yogurt and cheese!