You may have noticed that the things I draw are simple and relatively small. For example, I don’t know how to draw acres, or even square inches, of snow. I was glad to see yesterday that the oaks on the edge of the golf course were holding it in modest handfuls.

Today I had to go a couple of km over the frozen snow so I cut up some old socks and pulled them on over my boots. They made walking possible on the glazed footpath. It was easier to stride along the gritted vehicle tracks.
There were only about six of us in the supermarket — three were staff. Everyone smiled as they passed on the street. We were all creeping, slipping, eyeing the ground ahead.

Long things I have used today:

I took the ski pole walking, just in case, but in fact the socks did the trick.

With the spade, I scraped up snow and tossed it over the deck railing. With the broom, I swept loosened snow into heaps.

With the axe I split medium sized logs into quarters that would actually burn.

The file is the fire poker.

The sock was a surprise. It came up to my knee while the one I know covers only the ankle. I wore both.

The glass holds a refreshing infusion of sage leaves — 5 or 6 young ones steeped in a cup or two of boiling water. Served with a squeeze of lemon juice.