It is -5 as I write this post. That’s -20.5556 Celsius. The weather app on my phone says “feels like -27” (-32.7778 C) because of the wind. Yeah, that’s cold. And the frigid temps are only a part of a wintry mix these past few days. How about snow, shoveling, and sourdough bread?

Our driveway

First, I’m not complaining since this weekend’s snowstorm was the first significant one the village where I live has had this season. The ground wasn’t frozen during an earlier storm when a few inches fell, and the only hard part was the wet snow was heavy to shovel. Then, it all melted. And following that puny snowfall, the cycle of weather was cold temps when clear and relatively warm temps when it wasn’t, so we got rain instead.

The bulk of this weekend’s snow — I’d guess a foot — fell from Saturday night to Sunday morning. Hank and I grabbed our shovels to clear paths, the large deck, in front of the garage — and the biggest part of the job, the rather steep driveway. We were out there after breakfast although it was sleeting. We had to get the job done before the temps dropped.

As I tossed shovelfuls of snow above the driveway’s high banks, I was envious of our neighbors’ snow blowers. Should we get one? Sounds like a good idea. Well, we don’t have one today.

Shelburne Falls Village, Mass.

The job took two hours.

Afterward, we treated ourselves to a walk downhill to the snowy village for hot beverages. Chunks of snow filled the Deerfield River that runs through its middle. Thankfully, Mocha Maya’s was open, as was Keystone Market across the street. But that was it. Downtown was deserted.

Then there was bread. Since early morning, I began prepping dough to make sourdough bread using Michael Pollan’s recipe. For a couple of days, I had fed the new starter I bought, so it was ready to work. In between shoveling and other chores, I was in the kitchen pulling and folding the dough in its bowl, then letting it rest for a while — a process that takes several hours.

Sourdough bread I baked.

I was more than pleased by the end result. That night, we ate slices of bread with a potato leek quinoa soup I made along with a good Portuguese wine.

And except for another trip outside to scrape new snow off the driveway, I stayed put inside — working on the fourth in my Isabel Long Mystery Series. I’m up to 20,000 words. I usually aim for 500 words in a day and I’m chuffed, as my UK friends say, if I go more. I answered questions about the third from my editor in Israel via email and worked on promotional stuff.

The furnace in the basement, which is set to a timer, just kicked in. Hank’s got the wood stove going in his shop beside my office. Soon, I will open the door to steal some of its heat. I am guessing that later we will bundle up in long johns and other suitable clothes before we venture outside for a walk. But pretty much, it will be a reading, writing, and a talking with family on the phone kind of day.

Yeah, it’s all about keeping warm these days.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: Snow in the Deerfield River.