I don't know anything about this. I was born and raised in Southern California where in the 70's "snow-day" was something else entirely. I probably won't be getting into that.
No, I write this because we now find ourselves in a small stone cottage in the Dordogne region of southwestern France. This is a place where the deep, deep medieval history of France is at it's most profound. People still go to Sunday masses in churches that were built around the 1300's when the French were still trying to kick the Brits' asses back to the Isles during the 100 Years' War. There is now a british invasion of another kind. More on that some other time. This is still largely a rural area. And while there are towns and cities with supermarkets, McDonalds' and all the rest, most live out in the boonies and often heat with wood fire.
No, I write this because we now find ourselves in a small stone cottage in the Dordogne region of southwestern France. This is a place where the deep, deep medieval history of France is at it's most profound. People still go to Sunday masses in churches that were built around the 1300's when the French were still trying to kick the Brits' asses back to the Isles during the 100 Years' War. There is now a british invasion of another kind. More on that some other time. This is still largely a rural area. And while there are towns and cities with supermarkets, McDonalds' and all the rest, most live out in the boonies and often heat with wood fire.
Who cares?
Well, I didn't, much, until the snow started coming down and it became apparent that the small electric space heaters in here were just not gonna' do the trick. So, I says: let's scroogle on into town (only 12 kilometers/7miles) and get a bundle of wood, some hot chocolate and maybe a DVD (sorry, no dish) After confidently scraping six inches of snow off the van windows and pulling out, I get no farther than 30 feet, attempting to go up a small incline to the road and find out that, hey!, that white stuff really is pretty slick.
Good going, Cali-Boy.
I manage without incident to back it through my own tracks to the rectangular hole in the snow that was my parking spot. So here we sit back in the cabin coldly eyeing up the antiques.
Being snowed in does have it's advantages, though. We take the occasion to get back to work on the currently-in-progress Jenny Kerr disk "Wood and Steel", an acoustic disk that will lean in the blues direction. It's pretty easy to be in that frame of mind out here in the mysteriously beautiful Perigord woods. This new collection should be ready in time for the Spring tour which will take us up to Scandinavia and most of Western Europe.
Well, I didn't, much, until the snow started coming down and it became apparent that the small electric space heaters in here were just not gonna' do the trick. So, I says: let's scroogle on into town (only 12 kilometers/7miles) and get a bundle of wood, some hot chocolate and maybe a DVD (sorry, no dish) After confidently scraping six inches of snow off the van windows and pulling out, I get no farther than 30 feet, attempting to go up a small incline to the road and find out that, hey!, that white stuff really is pretty slick.
Good going, Cali-Boy.
I manage without incident to back it through my own tracks to the rectangular hole in the snow that was my parking spot. So here we sit back in the cabin coldly eyeing up the antiques.
Being snowed in does have it's advantages, though. We take the occasion to get back to work on the currently-in-progress Jenny Kerr disk "Wood and Steel", an acoustic disk that will lean in the blues direction. It's pretty easy to be in that frame of mind out here in the mysteriously beautiful Perigord woods. This new collection should be ready in time for the Spring tour which will take us up to Scandinavia and most of Western Europe.
Peace,
Philbillie