Heavy snow in the morning calls for a change of plans. I’m staying put today. Not going anywhere. I’m not one to rush around, not like I used to when I was young. Mad dashes to the subway, frantic runs to catch the next train, snowy days like today make the past seem like distant dreams. Why was ever in such a rush?
I remember one frantic Christmas/New Year break when I was thirteen, rushing with my older siblings and fellow boarding school classmates, seven in all, none of us older than 16, suitcases in hand, dashing through downtown Tokyo out to Haneda airport, and when we couldn’t get on a standby ticket, racing back into Tokyo to wedge ourselves onto a standing room only bullet train for three hours as far as Osaka, as that is as far as the bullet trains went back then, and onto a standing room only overnight train from there, stuck in the decks between the rail cars, clickety-clack, all through the night to distant home.
The snow is too deep for the chickens. They aren’t venturing out. A big bowl of steamed rice is what they want. I usually cook organic brown rice, but a delivery mixup left me with a 25 pound bag of organic white basmati rice. That taught me to always check the package labels on orders before hauling them home. Surprising how much you still need to learn after living so many decades. At some point you’d think you’d have learned everything there is to learn.
The chickens don’t mind. They scarf it down by the mouthful. This is bowl two this morning. They’ll devour a few more bowls today before dusk. Yes, there is a mad man who cooks organic rice for his chickens. My rice cooker will do up to five cups of rice at a time. It takes the chickens a few minutes to down that much rice.
The ducks devour steamed rice too, though this morning they are content to waddle about in their infinity pool, nibbling at the snow on the landing, and staring at the white, snowy woods.
The furthest I’m venturing today is out to the cabin to make tofu. I have an order to fulfill. On a quiet, snowy day, making tofu is a good thing to do.
In our part of the world (Central Ontario, Canada), the people whose job it is to clear driveways say that snow is like money falling from the sky.
As I recall, we tried calling our parents and the Duerksens too, but no one answered. That was before cell phones, so for some time, our parents did not know where we were! I believe Virginia Claassen, or some other missionary, was sent to the train station the next day to see if we happened to be on the train so she could reassure our folks.