(Above: Cows and ice in the early morning of January 24, 2025. Vacas y hielo en la madrugada del 24 de 1 de 2025.)
1/19/2025: Today began in the low 70s and proceeded to cool into the low 60s. Much rain throughout the morning and early noon.
1/20/2025:Today began in the mid 30s and warmed into the low 50s. Mostly sunny. Quite cold.
1/21/2025:Today began in the mid 30s and warmed into the high 40s. Grey, slightly sprinkly.
1/22/2025:Today began in the low 30s and warmed into the mid 40s. Cloudy and cold. Last night it rained; it was not pleasant weather for the bovines.
It was cold outside today, so I spent much of my free time updating the Cook’s Corner page on the Master Blend website.
1/23/2025:Today began in the low 30s and warmed into the low 50s. Cloudy and cold. Warmer afternoon.
1/24/2025:Today began in the low 30s and warmed into the 50s. Mostly sunny.
1/25/2025: Today began in the low 20s and warmed into the mid 60s. Sunny.
Final Note: Part of the draft to Grimorzak’s Chapter 8 in Book 2. Fitting for the present change of clime.
That book on the Priestess’s lap, the way she could be heard to address the gathered, though muffled, and the way that the folk sometimes broke her address with invocations of their Lord Leyosen’s aid, determined it to be a form of religious service. The Builder adjusted audio to become louder, and Grimorzak was able to hear the High-Priestess speak;
“…he called, ‘My fingers feel aflame, and my toes… they can’t be felt!’
“Fix it,’ the Greatfather replied, to which the first herdsman replied, ‘How?’”
“Greatfather teach us,” the gathered murmured.
“But Greatfather Leyosen didn’t answer,” Milana continued, “Instead allowing His creation to put that gift of Mind to use. And that, Foghlam did, wrapping his hands and feet and self in the hides of the next beast he slaughtered.
“The first test passed, Leyosen brought another the following morning: frost. Foghlam witnessed with wonder as his feet crunched through grass turned crystal. Yet wonder soured with the midday warmth which turning sparkling glass to wet limp strands of rotten green. It dried in the sun, the smell of burnt pasturage filled the air, and the herd was restless.
“Days passed, and all seemed normal until the herdsman realized his animals were not so healthy as they once were. Their lustrous coats became ragged, and the fat bodies beneath began to lose their summer reserves. The cows eventually grew thin as did their calves, and to his perplexity, the bulls all departed one chill dawn, leaving westward as the rest of the heard continued its way south toward the great, warming sun.
“The herd bore sense, but their migration was for naught. Frost was followed by frost, and for the first time in his life, Foghlam knew worry; ‘Greatfather,’ he asked, ‘Where am I to go? What am I to do?’”
“Greatfather guide us,” the gathered intoned.
“The Lord’s only reply was snow the following morning. This time, Foghlam did not waste time with wonder or supplication. He did his very best to cope, using grass and dung to light a fire, not for cooking but for warming. But morning after morning and day after day, there was always another snow. The herd weakened, and soon, the poor herdsman bore witness to illness for the first time.
“The first death came soon after, and Foghlam puzzled at it. The beast, an old cow, was still there, but it was without motion, and soon, without heat. Then came the second and third death, and having soon learned its properties, Foghlam became disquieted and then dismayed. He begged Lord Leyosen to bring back the days of warmth and green.”
“Greatfather have mercy,” the gathered pleaded.
“He did not answer. There was a lesson yet for Foghlam to learn. So, the herdsman was forced to watch as the herd dwindled. He grew angered at the continuation of our Lord’s silence. Then, he became saddened as he felt weakness setting into his own weary bones. Finally, one day, as he looked down at a white calf, frozen with its black empty eyes staring upward at the equally empty white winter’s sky, he knew that one way or another, it would end, and it would be better than what he presently endured.
“Greatfather Leyosen sent spring the next day.”
The priestess closed the libram with a soft thwup, and this concluding gesture ushered forth words from the gathered, “Blessed be the Greatfather.”
The High-Priestess gave a slow nod of her head, “Blessed is He. Now I said it was going to be a short one today, so get on with your lives. We’ll meet back in three suns’ time.”
“Aye, will do, High Priestess,” a man replied – it may have been Gren – while a woman added, “Rest well, Milana.”
A number of other individuals followed up that latter wish with similar to which High-Priestess Milana brusquely answered, “Yes, yes. That’s exactly what I intend to do: sit here on my arse and soak up the Lord-blessed sun 'til dinner. And speaking of, what’s it to be today, Marta?”
1 thought on “Week of January 19, 2025 – Bolts for the roof, stew, homemade Ranch seasoning, & ice.”
Padre
It was a week of frosts, no doubt it’ll come to an end… at least there was stew to help compensate the frigid temps. Thanks for all the sharing.
It was a week of frosts, no doubt it’ll come to an end… at least there was stew to help compensate the frigid temps. Thanks for all the sharing.