I don’t understand why the day after nasty storms is almost always so beautiful. February has always been the most turbulent winter month in my experience, and this year is no exception.

The storms are long and nasty; the next day is glorious and beautiful. We’ve had a run of bitterly cold weather.

The yin yang of nature. Maybe Mother Nature feels terrible about giving us so much trouble. As I’ve written before, when I was a reporter on the road with him, the Rev. Billy Graham scolded me for complaining about gas prices.

He got me out of his limousine and sat me down, and told me to never speak poorly of my life, or I would become a cranky and whiny old man. So I  don’t, and that includes the weather.

The way I see it if I choose to live in upstate New York in the winter, and I do, then I  have no business complaining about snow and cold. Neither is a surprise.

Our snowblower busted, and our thermostat is causing trouble. Mike C is coming over to try to fix both of them.

I love the apple tree in the pasture after a snowstorm, it looks like a sculpture to me, and the Leica likes it too.

I took Maria out to breakfast this morning; the food was shockingly bad.

My omelet, cooked so cleanly and loving at our usual place (they are closed for a week), was awful, a greasy,  gloppy mess of too much cheese and vegetables mashed together.

Sadly this is the restaurant closest to us; I won’t make that mistake again. Eating greasy and cheesy food was a shock to my system. I almost got sick.

I guess I’m genuinely changing. I used to eat there all the time.

I’m afraid my healthy eating is narrowing my options.

I went to the gym for the third time this week; I’m getting comfortable there, Laura, my gym guardian, and the manager were off, and since the pandemic, nobody talks to anyone else. We all act as if each other are dangerous.

I know two of the women who work out there, and they tell me that men sometimes get on machines behind them so they can stare at them on the equipment. There are few things creepier than older men staring at young women, so I am careful to position myself on machines that are not behind any women.

I’m not looking to make anyone uncomfortable.

I put in my earphones at the gym and listen to music – Roy Orbison today. The gym has screens with Fox News and MSNBC on all the time, which I find annoying and intrusive. Does the gym have to be politicized also?

Between that and covid, nobody but the teenage muscle-heads in the back ever speak to one another at all unless they come or meet as friends. It works for me, as I wouldn’t say I like talking to people at the gym; I need to focus on what I am doing – my music and my exercise.

Still, it is sometimes sad how much we are all growing apart from one another. There are many good reasons not to speak to one another unless it’s online.

I’m sure some of the people at the gym – men and women – are interesting. I’ll never know. When you get older, younger people don’t seem even to see you; you almost become invisible to them.

As the young people file out of the gym on the way out, none of them has even glanced at me or acknowledged my presence. I am the invisible man.

This Wednesday, I’m looking forward to my lunch with John Rieger, the lovely feed store manager who sells me my hay; this is one of the few times I’ve ever invited someone I don’t know to lunch.

I’m learning to focus on my expectations about friendship. If John and I have funds and connect, having lunch two or three times a year would be great, and that is friendship too. I’m not looking for more than that; I doubt he is either.

I’m getting into an exercise groove, which will fit well with my other work on food, diet, and sleep. My legs are sore and stiff, but not while I’m on the treadmill. Once I get into a groove, I can go for a good long time.

I am told by the people who know this will loosen up my tight muscles, and I will feel better shortly.

All the shoveling wore me down; I’m taking it easy tomorrow. Maria and I are going to the movies in the afternoon; we’re going to see some Oscar-nominated short films and get some Japanese food.

I had a beautiful walk around the farm with the Leica this afternoon. Maria was away sledding, and I enjoyed bringing out the hay and hanging out with the sheep and donkeys. By now, and since I have no herding dogs with me, they come around and hang out with me.

Late afternoon is always a great time to take photos; the light comes in on the side.

Maria and Zack, an accomplished naturalist, are going for their woods walk together – a birthday present from me – in three weeks. Zack chooses a forest within driving range, and she will meet him there.

I’m not going on that trip, but if we can figure things out, I’d love to go with Maria the next and learn more about the woods and the animals who live in it. She might be able to do the teaching by then, although I’m eager to meet Zack.

She’s excited about the trip; it’s the perfect present for her.

Early bedtime for me, I am content and worn out. Each feels good in their way.