So much for the sunshine. Today the dogwood outside the study window is blooming with half-frozen rain. We'd gotten a winter-storm warning with predictions of ice, but so far only the rail by the back steps is frozen:
The ground seems fine, though I am a little nervous about bridges and things between here and Belmont. Still, as far as I know, nothing's been canceled. The rain is gross, but it seems to be mostly rain, nothing more ominous. I stood on the back porch with my coffee while Dora nosed around outside and got thoroughly muddy, then cleaned her off with an old t-shirt before letting her back in. Now she's curled up behind me in my kitchen chair, asleep.
Yesterday we had a pretty grand old time.
There's a lovely trail, part of the Carolina Thread Trail network, that runs along the South Fork River in a community called Confederate Laboratory –– in the Civil War, some kind of medicine-making operation went on there. Later there was a textile mill by the river; that building still exists, although these days it's a picturesque event venue, not a working mill. Anyway, the trail runs for about two miles along the river bank on the side opposite the mill, and it's wooded and pleasant, even on a chilly day. As you see here, I was wearing a good bit of wool: my Sierra dress over the WoolX tee I'd worn to church, with my cotton ragg sweater on top. On the bottom I'd kept on my merino tights, but added leggings over, mostly to keep the tights from getting spattered with mud. I also wore a pair of bamboo socks, which I think were a layer too many, despite not being that thick –– my toes wound up feeling very cramped in my boots.
I've had those Vasque leather boots for, now, thirty years. I bought them for a camping trip in Southern Utah over the Martin Luther King holiday weekend in 1992, and I have worn them steadily ever since. Yesterday, though, I decided that they were finished. I've already been contemplating, after hiking in them all last summer, that the toe box isn't roomy enough anymore –– if I'm hiking downhill in steep terrain, my feet really start to hurt. I had already told myself that hiking boots would be one exception to my no-buy rule, and I think the time has come to move on that. I'm looking at some Xero lightweight hikers, because I like the barefoot sandals and shoes I already have. I can see, actually, doing some easier hikes in either of those pairs of shoes, but I don't want to be without boots, because in rocky terrains I really need the ankle support. I like that their boots and shoes have basically square toe boxes, which is what I need. Anyway, I probably won't buy them today, but I have made up my mind that this is the year. Thirty years is good innings for a pair of hiking boots.
Anyway, there they are. It was a glorious afternoon, and we had a nice walk, though Dora was so wound up she more or less dragged me down the trail and back. Let's just say I walked VERY briskly, and after the first ten minutes, there was no loose leash involved. On the bright side, she didn't bark at anybody, at least not until we got home and found our next-door neighbor boldly and audaciously occupying his own backyard. Boy, oh, boy. Dora gave him what for, all the way up the driveway. I guess he'll think twice before . . . exercising his rights as a property owner . . . again. Actually, I'm not sure he even registered that there was, a mere ten feet away, a dog telling him off in the strongest possible language.
Here she is being nice and innocent and reasonably well-behaved in the woods:
This is a good thing, really. It's been a while since we've taken a walk of any length in which we encountered other people and dogs. I've been walking her up and down our own block, and the other day we did multiple laps around the community-college parking lot on a loose leash (guess we get to start all that over again, since I didn't enforce it yesterday . . .). I was hoping the trail wouldn't be crowded on a cold afternoon, but obviously everybody else in town had had the same idea we did. The trail isn't too narrow, fortunately, and we passed people without incident, sometimes moving aside to have treats while they went by us, if they were really taking up a lot of room. One older lady wanted to stop and talk to Dora, because she was being such a good little doggy, sitting so nicely, and that might have ended in tears –– Dora's MO is to approach people as though she wants to be friendly, then realize at the last minute that she doesn't know them after all, whereupon she erupts into unfriendly barking and growling. The lady stepped toward Dora, Dora took a few steps toward the lady, I grabbed Dora and gasped out something about her not being friendly and that was why she was sitting there getting treats . . . and at last the people went on their way. WHEW. That was the closest call, though. She put up with a little asthmatic chihuahua mix going past her at fairly close range making all kinds of noises, and with an Aussie cattle dog that went nuts barking at her. All in all, I was pretty proud of her. Walking her is never exactly relaxing, but we went to the end of the trail and back without any real incident, which gives me hope for future hikes with her.
Now it's today, and we're not going any dang where. My husband's car is dead, so he's having to take mine to work, and that's just fine with me. I have dressed to be warm and comfortable at home, where I will see nobody but Dora all day long:
My Camellia dress with two wool layers over: repeating the sky-blue WoolX merino tee I wore as a base layer yesterday, with this Patagonia long-sleeved merino-blend tee over the top. Both wool shirts secondhand. Leggings are cheapo Aldi leggings from a couple of years ago (maybe three? but I think two). Wool hiking socks, Xero Colorado sandals, which feel pretty much like being barefoot.
I like the layered blue with the one pop of color on my legs. And I am insanely warm and comfortable, without being too hot.
I took three pictures, which are pretty much the same picture, but what the heck. Post 'em all, I say. It's Monday: live large. I'll put on my rubber boots when I have to go out with Dora, but for inside, this is it. This is the outfit.
In other news, I lost at Wordle for the first time today. I'm also mulling a job proposition –– remember the friend who emailed me to ask how busy I was? I knew there was a reason, and I also figured that eventually he would call me, and I'd find out the reason. In all of this I was correct. I have not known this person for twenty years for nothing. What he was calling to sound me out about was exactly the kind of thing that would be a lot of fun to do, but also potentially a lot of work for absolutely certainly very little money, which is the way these things go. Nothing worth doing ever pays, monetarily speaking. I was laughing, though, in Mass yesterday, because this whole conversation had started with a question about how busy I was. I'd taken my decision about this proposition to Mass as an intention, and the Abbot's homily included his asking, about St. Peter, "What if he'd just said, I'm too busy right now?"
I think I'm probably going to say yes, and I think the homily was a nudge in that direction, but I am taking my time about it.
And meanwhile, I really need to read Pearl. It's so beautiful, but it just goes on and on.