Buddha Squirrel becomes One with our birdseed.

Bright, cold, blustery Sunday. Chipmunks are awake and staggering around in the backyard. Cardinals, titmice, chickadees and woodpeckers take turns at the feeder with Squirrelzilla.

Daughters are at home, this weekend, this semester. One has leveled up to adulthood (the weekend visitor). The other I wish I could outsource the parenting of, just now, since I am proving to be awful at it.

Husband is in the pondhouse burning wood in the woodstove and inhabiting in his special Away place. He is turning wood; he is making rustic candle holders from elm, a very hard wood. He is on reserve and may be called to work anytime.

He made curried chicken in the slow cooker last night. Curry spices always makes me feel good. I had success with a Shepherd’s Pie recipe the night before (used beef not lamb). Cooking large quantities of warm food and buying seeds from catalogs are late February action items. Otherwise, we just wait for growth.

A bouquet of recent arrivals.

Awake late last night, I finished a fantasy book about kings and magic I remember liking a lot as a teenager. But, spoiled by maturity, I found the plot and writing kind of painfully bad this time around. Maybe for personal as much as aesthetic reasons.

All in silk and embroidery, he stood before them like a young angel, the creamy whiteness of his raiment broken only by the subtle play of gold and rubies encrusting the edges.

Book club is reading The Wife for late March. I just bought it for my Kindle.

With her skillful storytelling and pitch-perfect observations, Wolitzer has crafted a wise and candid look at the choices all men and women make — in marriage, work, and life.

I imagine we’ll all have something to contribute to the conversation.

Phone just rang. Husband will fly to Heathrow in the morning. Now, this afternoon, we will have a walk with the dog in the woods and decide what to cook next.