Greetings from the cold tundra of North Carolina. We are officially getting above freezing on Sunday but with the sun brightly radiating over the frozen fields and plains and rays coming through the front window, for the first time in over a week the temp downstairs is above the thermostat setting. Meanwhile the upstairs unit is working like a dog and it is the new system. Looks like Buddy is going straight into first nap of the morning without lingering a while with me. Having a laptop on my lap doesn't stop her from settling down across my arm while I write or read.
Since it is so cold outside and I don't care to tempt ice and me, I stayed around home. It was a nice respite and the first step back into normal routine and schedule. Well, not so much schedule that will begin next week when I return to working out with Taylor. He texted last night checking to see if I wanted to start back today...uh no, not in the state of mind to do so. With the last year wrapping up with more activity than usual, my reading took a hit. I had begun The Last Castle by Denise Kieanan and then put it aside. Yesterday afternoon I took it up again. The first third of the book is telling the story of how George and Edith paths crossed with the background of building Biltmore. in 1895 when George opened the house to friends and family to celebrate Christmas and New Years, it was not totally finished. I think I remember that from the many tours I have taken there but I didn't realize that work continued and he really wasn't there during those three years. There were deaths in the family and this author tells the story of his restlessness. His good friend, whose name escapes me now, had some insightful comments on George in his letters. I think from this point on the book focuses more on Edith and what she brought to the estate and how she had found her niche.
On our way to Burnsville the other day we stopped at the Post Office to take pictures of the French Broad River with lots of ice floating along its way into Madison County. My friend Ann posted some pics of the FBR with lots and lots of ice over by her house. It is quite the beauty to see. We had little flakes of snow falling yesterday morning, beautiful and more beautiful is that it was a dusting and not accumulation. I did get out this afternoon and went to the Post Office, then on down the road to take pics of the ice clinging to the rock that is level and higher than I. (Old song lyric...kind of)
Because there are not enough books in this home, I ordered two more yesterday and they are outside of my chosen genre. I have not been a Bronte, Austin and whoever else writes in that time or style, so maybe this will help develop an appreciation. I hope this endeavor doesn't go the way of Elizabeth Elliott or Jan Karon. I have really tried to read their books but their style and my reading aptitude doesn't mesh. A lesser known author probably known more in the south, Ann B Ross and her Miss Julia series started out entertaining but became too predictable along plot lines.
I've noticed that many times when observing or looking to change things around or watching people the term predictable keeps coming to mind. I am very predictable when it comes to weather and roads. If for a moment I think one little glimmer of ice could be experienced, I am home for the duration. Some may say where is your sense of adventure but adventure lies elsewhere for me. As we begin to think about the back porch work that will be done and as I begin to look for the style, I'm not favoring the "southern" style porch, again that is predictable for me because my taste and sense of style if you want to call it that, tends more to the rustic/industrial style. Things in our homes are things we like and enjoy....Roy's contribution all the tech gadgets. He did pick out a quilt for the queen bed bedroom but I need to find shams and throw pillows to go with it. Now that is adventure.
Blog to Print offered a deal that I couldn't refuse, 39% off. So Monablog 2017 has been compiled and will soon arrive in book form. 2017 was a less than usual postings year. A lot of that had to do with circumstances and a lot had to do with not being able to publish a lot of what I wrote about last year while struggling with emotions and feelings that took me by surprise. Like I wrote about yesterday...The friend of my father, Thelma, once again told Doug she was so sorry she had believed for a time the lies my father had told her. My goodness, he was the best liar I have ever known and was so believable. I asked Doug to convey to her my appreciation for everything she did for my father and through our few conversations we had, she had helped me piece together the story, the long narrative that finally made sense with the details she supplied. It still chills me to the bones to realize just how much my father hated me but those chilled bones warmed right back thinking of my mom and thanking God for the friends and others who were at many crossroads strategically positioned that helped me make it through the toughest of times. After talking to my brother this week, it seems like different tactics were used on each of us by our father. It never dawned on me that our father had employed such a pattern. The end result he wanted was the same though.
Like many posts I write, some of these things are written because they are in an orderly form for reference. Also, sometimes it helps others who are walking a similar path. There is light and there is victory. And there is light on the path of victory.
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