The first weekend in February brought icy roads, lots of snow and bitter winds. We had huge drifts across the driveway, and fabulous neighbors who helped us dig out.
Monday morning was bright and beautiful!
 |
| Morning sun on frozen snow. |
 |
| The sun sparkled on the snow drifts. |
 |
| lots of bunny tracks next to the lounge chair |
I'm still recuperating from my latest ice skating accident. The doctor is not recommending surgery. I take pain pills and have very little use of my left arm, which is in a sling. Getting dressed in the morning is a huge activity for me, usually resulting in a need for a breather. I had quite a bit of bruising and swelling on my entire arm.
 |
| Two weeks after the accident, most of the remaining bruises are on my lower arm. |
Rusty and I celebrated Valentine's Day a week early, beginning the evening with Lincoln's First Friday Art Walk. We toured the Keichel Art Gallery while munching on hors d'oeuvres prepared by one of Lincoln's finest restaurants, Dish. We also sipped on a couple of outstanding wines while viewing works by Thomas Hart Benton, Anthony Benton Gude (Thomas Benton's grandson), Keith Jacobshagen, and others. This is truly an amazing gallery. Check them out at:
http://www.kiechelart.com
 |
| selfie at the art gallery |
Then we went to Sebatian's Table, a cool restaurant that serves food in the tapas format.
 |
| Rusty gingerly caresses my broken wing. |
After three courses, we finished the evening with a chocolate torte swimming in pistachio sauce and topped with creme fraiche and dried cherries.
 |
| Yummy! |
Our church hosted a ladies soup supper with a Valentine's theme; my good friend, Linda Nelson joined me. The guest speaker was Ted Kooser, former U.S. Poet Laureate. He read several poems from Valentines.
 |
| Ted Kooser with wife, Kathleen Rutledge |
This particular poem was especially delightful for me.
Skater
She was all in black but for a yellow pony tail
that trailed from her cap, and bright blue gloves
that she held out wide, the feathery fingers spread,
as surely she stepped, click-clack, onto the frozen
top of the world. And there, with a clatter of blades,
she began to braid a loose path that broadened
into a meadow of curls. Across the ice she swooped
and then turned back and, halfway, bent her legs
and leapt into the air the way a crane leaps, blue gloves
lifting her lightly, and turned a snappy half-turn
there in the wind before coming down, arms wide,
skating backward right out of that moment, smiling back
at the woman she'd been just an instant before.
from Delights & Shadows, Copper Canyon Press, Port Townsend, WA 2004
