The atmosphere is slush

Very windy slush, too, making our days a bit of an ordeal, at least as far as the nonagenarian is concerned. I keep offering to get her a balaclava for her face, but the image seems to horrify her. Maybe she doesn't want to look like an accomplice in a bank robbery.
We assembled a "quicky" sort of cassoulet: Home-cooked cannelini beans from the farmers' market, frozen last fall and recently resurrected, organic bratwursts, some garlic mashed potatoes and a few assorted vegetables. The beans were not turned to mush as they would have been in a long cooking process, and the brat bits were smoky and lean, better than preserved duck chunks. Okay, maybe not better than duck confit, but still delicious.
I finished Patrick White's Riders in the Chariot a couple of days ago. Despite the frequent religious themes, which for me get tedious even in fiction, I thought it was very good. There are bits of it which will haunt me for some time. Am decompressing with the latest collection of Best Australian Short Fiction, given to us by an Aussie house guest last summer.
Could not find White's novel Voss on a recent book foraging trip; may have to order it from the satanic Amazon. I read somewhere that Bezos is giving more to the Dems lately.