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“Nothing burns like the cold.”

February 12, 2012

“Marley was dead to begin with.” Okay, that is stolen directly from Dickens, but I did use quotation marks. I wanted a dramatic opening, and that is one of my favorites. Winter is holding sway was all I could come up with as my first line, and it’s a weak one. I wanted drama, I wanted a “Stella!” moment to describe the change in temperature.

It is now is 24° on the Cape and in the teens in Boston. The sunlight has a cold look, a sharpness, to it. The sky is a deep blue but its color lacks any warmth. When the breeze blows, I can feel it fly up my sleeves and down my neck. This is what I remember as being cold.

This is a bundle day, a pull out the afghan day and a nap under the warmth of the down comforter day. I’m going nowhere except upstairs for that nap. Earlier, I went to my usual Sunday breakfast. When the alarm went off, I jumped out of bed to turn it off then I jumped right back under the covers. I wanted to stay in that warm bed, and I know both Gracie and Fern hoped I would. They were warm cozy against me on opposite sides and didn’t move when I tried to get up. Finally I gave them no choice, and the three of us left the warmth of my bed.

The roads were empty this morning. I saw only a few cars, and after breakfast I saw some people walking into church. They were huddled together and bundled. Many of the old ladies wore long coats with fur around the collars. I suspect they also have boots at home in the closet, the kind which slip over shoes with clunky heels and are transparent. The hats they wore this morning were purely decorative.

I don’t have to ask today where winter has gone. I know exactly where it is.

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“Surely as cometh the Winter, I know There are Spring violets under the snow.”

February 11, 2012

Last night I went to bed around one in the morning. It was raining enough that Gracie went under the deck to go to the bathroom. That’s her new strategy, and I applaud her ingenuity. When I woke up at 10 this morning, it was snowing and it still is. The snow is big and wet. The tree branches are covered, but the busy roads are not. I had to go to the dump, and I needed a few groceries so Gracie and I braved the elements. More people were out than I expected, but the dump was pretty quiet. The best part of the trash run was I didn’t have to leave my car. The high school basketball team is doing service at the dump and emptying trunks. They’re also throwing snowballs at each other from one side of the bins to the other. They are still at the enjoying snow stage of life.

When I got to my street, it had a layer of slush. Luckily, the temperature is above freezing now, and I hope it stays that way so the slush never turns to ice.

Today is a hot chocolate day, a mint hot chocolate day. It’s warm slippers, flannel pants and a sweatshirt day. It’s watch really bad science fiction on the TV from the couch with Gracie at my feet day. I know I’ll keep checking the snow accumulation as I’ve been doing that since I was a little kid. I press my face against the window and watch the flakes. Today it is a gentle snow which falls quietly, unaccompanied by wind. The snow is lovely today.

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“Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?”

February 10, 2012

Today is the last of the warm days at least through the weekend. The weatherman called the weekend temperature an Arctic blast, but right now the temperatures are predicted to be in the low 20’s with some rain turning to snow and accumulating as many as 3 inches. I laughed when I reread this and saw I had written “as many” as 3 inches. That’s only a bit more than a dusting in New England or it used to be. This year we all seem to have refined our definition of Arctic and cold and snow storms. Right now it is 46°.

The Cape Times had a picture of daffodils which have already bloomed in Orleans. The article with the picture said bulges of buds are being noticed on some trees. One woman was quoted as saying this is the earliest she has ever seen daffodils.

Last night I drove home from Chatham. Though it was not even nine, the roads were almost clear of cars. I think I saw only 3 all the way from Chatham to Dennis. It reminded me of winter when I was young. In those days many people worked only summers as little work was available all winter. They let their bills pile up until they were back working, and nobody minded waiting. They knew they’d get paid. The streets were usually deserted at night. Few restaurants and only a couple of movie theaters stayed open all winter. By the day after Labor Day the Cape was a giant ghost town.

Last night as I was driving I also thought about books. Nothing is more exciting than reading a great book for the first time and nothing is worse than finishing it. When I was a kid, I took joy and pleasure in reading so many wonderful books for the first time, and I dreaded getting closer to the endings. I’d put the book down for a bit, which took every bit of fortitude I had, but then I’d give in and go back and finally finish it. I was seldom disappointed but was always a bit sad.

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“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.”

February 6, 2012

Okay, I am now looking forward to spring training. On February 19th, pitchers and catchers report, and opening day isn’t all that far away. Last year my Red Sox shot themselves in the feet; I have higher hopes for this year. Someone has to win something.

I have news. My trip to Ghana last year strengthened my love for that country. When I was leaving, I was upset that I had been there for only two weeks, and I swore I’d go back at least one more time. That one more time is in August. I am booked to leave August 24th arriving in Ghana on August 25th and then leaving September 17th and arriving home on the 18th. I found a ticket only $100.00 more than last year, and it includes the roundtrip flights between Boston and Washington and the flights to and from Accra, first class both ways. I get my sleeping pod.

Francisca, my student who is in Ohio and came to visit me here, will be back in Ghana by then and will pick me up at the airport and drive me to Bolga after we visit a few tourist spots. The list includes  Cape Coast, the canopy walk and Elmina. We’ll then backtrack to the Volta Region for the ride north. That is the only region I haven’t seen. I’ll stay with Francisca in her village. It will be rooster alarm clock and bucket bath time again. After my last trip. I’m back to being a bucket bath expert. I hope to bring school supplies with me for the village school. Francisca will make a list of needs, and I’ll try my best to fill them.

Today is a beautiful day, sunny and warm. It is 42° and feels a little like an early spring day when it’s still cold but the air has a hint of what’s to come. I know this is only early February and snow is still a possibility, but I’m thinking spring. My daffodil bud is even more pronounced than it was a few days ago, and there are shoots all over the front garden. I know it’s winter but my hearts sings of spring.

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“Pro football is like nuclear warfare. There are no winners, only survivors.”

February 5, 2012

It’s a sunny but cold winter’s day, typical for this time of year. From my den perch, I can see the brown leaves barely fluttering so the day is a calm one. My sister in Colorado got two feet of snow, and it was 3° last night. Compared to her, I live on a tropical island. The house feels warmer today. I know it’s psychological as the temperature in the house doesn’t fluctuate, but cloudy days make me feel colder.

Super Bowl Sunday has finally arrived. Yesterday I saw more men than I’ve ever seen shopping at the grocery store. Carts were filled with chips and dips and ribs and all sorts of game day food. My cart was no exception. I’m making a Boboli pizza with goat cheese and pine nuts and a cheese dip you bake in the oven. I’ll haul both of them down the street to my friends’ house. They too will have game day treats. After this, I’ll have to start practicing my cheering for the Pats and my booing for the Giants.

I don’t have Patriot’s or Bruin’s gear. I just have Red Sox and Celtics sweatshirts and t-shirts. I don’t know why no Patriot stuff, but I’m not a hockey fan which explains my lack of Bruin’s gear. I went to a hockey college and saw almost every home game, but that was cheering for my team and had little to do with the game itself. I know about icing, offsides and high-sticking but that’s it. I am hockey ignorant. I know baseball best of all.

My nephew played soccer starting when he was five and finishing after four years on a full scholarship at Oregon State. My sister talked hockey every phone call for every one of those years. We couldn’t have a conversation without the latest game news, a description of Ryan’s spectacular plays and a run down on the teams themselves. I feigned interest and made joyful noises at all the right places. I made the trip to New York, to Marist, to see him play. It was my only chance to watch him. He waved when he saw me, and that made the long trip worthwhile. I watched a game about which I knew almost nothing. I knew about using your head or feet, red cards, offsides and penalty kicks and I knew the target was the net. That was it. I was not a soccer fan. I was my nephew’s fan.

Tonight we’ll be screaming and complaining and maybe even swearing; okay, we’ll definitely be swearing. I hope at the end we’ll be on our feet cheering a victory for the home team!

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“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”

February 3, 2012

It is so cold (how cold is it?) that my computer has been freezing on me, and the air turns blue when it does.

It has been a struggle this morning to get up and running. Gracie is so used to me and my computer tirades that she slept through it all. Now the computer wants to turn itself off to update. I won’t let it. I am in charge. So there, HAL.

Winter has returned, and it really is cold. The temperature says 30°, but the weatherman said it feels more like 20°. It is, of course, my dump day. Because the dump is the coldest place in the state on a day like today, I fear I have annoyed Mother Nature in some way. Solzhenitsyn would have been able to stay right by the newspaper recycle bin to write his novel. I wish I didn’t have to go out, but I need some groceries and some cat food. I’ll put Miss Gracie’s lovely Pendleton coat on her so she won’t get too cold in the car. The dog dresses better than I do.

I really don’t get dressed up very often. I have few reasons. The last time was a wedding in October. Before that I wore a dress in August in Ghana for the swearing-in ceremony. Both dresses were new. One is my summer dress and the other is my fall dress. I only hope there are no events in winter requiring a dress.

The dress requirements for women have changed dramatically since I was a kid. Back then I had to wear a dress to church, and we always wore uniforms, skirts and blouses, to school. Even in college, skirts or dresses were required until my sophomore year. When I was in Ghana, I also had to wear a dress. We were told only women who worked street corners wore pants, yamayama girls.

Pants suits came next, and they were acceptable dress substitutes at weddings and other once formal gatherings. Everything went downhill after that. My grandmothers never gave in and always wore dresses, but my mother easily accepted the fashion of wearing pants. I think that was an indicator of the anything goes fashion trend.

Now, women wear shorts to church, and I wore pants in Ghana. Many women there, including a couple of my former students, wore pants. I hate getting dressed up for anything. Panty hose is a remnant of the torture devices used during the inquisition. Heels are potential ankle breakers. The only ones I have are short and chunky like the nuns used to wear only mine have colors and no ties.

I am happiest wearing cozy clothes which keep me warm in winter. I wear slippers in the house all the time. Sometimes I even wear them outside: they look a bit like clogs. When I’ll get dressed to go to the dump, I’ll wear corduroy pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt with a hood. That’s about as dressed up as I ever get.

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“It happen’d one Day about Noon going towards my Boat, I was exceedingly surpriz’d with the Print of a Man’s naked Foot on the Shore.”

February 2, 2012

If the groundhog lived in these parts, he wouldn’t have seen his shadow today. He’d have seen a sky filled with light gray clouds which cast no shadow.

From my window, it looks cold out, but it is 43°. I figure this sense of feeling cold has to do with the missing sun. When it shines, I have an illusion of warmth.

In my garden, the shoots of the dafs are above the ground. I can even see some buds. Yesterday the local paper had a picture of croci (crocuses if you don’t like the Latin ending) which have bloomed along 6A. These poor spring bulbs have been duped by the warmth of the winter. Every other year I am thrilled to see their shoots popping above the ground as I know spring is near, but not this year. It is February which can be snowy and really cold.

I feel like a hermit. Lately I haven’t been out much. If I didn’t have the dog to talk to, I might just lose my power of speech, but Gracie is just a listener. She cocks her head to acknowledge the conversation but that’s all she offers. I figure it isn’t just me though. We all seem to hibernate in winter. The weather doesn’t invite us out to take a casual ride. I do go out to do errands but I go reluctantly as I hate to leave the warm house and my cozy clothes. Tomorrow is that errand day out of necessity: I’m out of cat food. Gracie and I will go to the dump first then do some grocery shopping. I don’t have anyone to talk to at those either. The dump is always freezing this time of year as the wind whips across the frozen tundra so I quickly go from bin to bin. At the grocery store, the only person I talk to is the deli man when I order.

I do see my friends every Sunday, and we play games and have dinner. Once every couple of weeks we go to trivia on Thursday so I get to practice my communication skills. Sometimes, though, I feel a bit like Robinson Crusoe before he found Friday.

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“Mothers are the necessity of invention.”

January 31, 2012

The day is warm by winter’s usual standards. It’s 49°, but there is a little breeze which makes the day feel colder. On days like today I’d love a jacket like the ones I had as a kid. With those, each sleeve had a jersey cuff inside which kept the wind at bay, and all the jackets had hoods attached. Nothing is worse than ears which are red and frozen.

We always walked to school and never thought twice about the weather. Most families had only one car, and it left early to work with the dads. In my neighborhood, the only woman who drove was a widow who had no choice. The other mothers walked to do most of their errands. The only exception was the weekly groceries. It was a Friday tradition in my house for my Dad to drive my mother to the supermarket. I never went, but I’m willing to bet my dad waited in the car. Grocery shopping was a woman’s job.

When I was a kid, there was a clear delineation between household jobs for men and for women. I didn’t know any mother who had an outside job. Every mother in my neighborhood stayed at home and took care of the house and kids. Every morning the fathers, wearing suits and fedoras, drove to work. In the winter they shoveled and switched to snow tires, in the summer they mowed and trimmed the bushes, in the spring they planted and changed tires again and in the fall they raked and burned the leaves. They took down and put up the storm windows. They got the oil in the car changed and picked out every new car. On warm Saturday mornings, they washed those cars. They read the papers on Sunday mornings and watched football on Sunday afternoons. They were the threats our mothers used to keep us in line. Everything else our mothers did.

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“I guess God made Boston on a wet Sunday.”

January 30, 2012

Today will be a short post as I have to go to Boston. In days of yore, I used to go to Boston fairly often and never minded the trip. I’d meet friends, see a play, go out to dinner or shop. Now that I have all the time in the world, I begrudge the trip. I’d much rather sit at home and travel the Cape roads.

When I was a little kid, my mother didn’t drive. If we wanted to go to Boston, it meant walking up town and picking up the bus to Sullivan Square. Once there, we’d walk upstairs from the bus to the subway station. My mother would warn us away from the edge of the platform so we’d stand back and lean over to look down the tracks for the coming train. When it arrived, the doors always slid open with a whooshing sound, and we’d hurry inside to our seats. We always knelt on the bench like seats with our backs to the cars and our faces to the window. The city enthralled us as huge buildings, lots of cars and houses close together were unusual sights for us. The rule always was if we got separated, we were to get off at the next station and wait. We never did need to do that.

Mostly I remember going to Boston with my mother to see Santa Claus at Jordan Marsh. We were dressed in our good clothes and would wend our way to Santa through the Enchanted Village. It always held our attention, and we never once asked how much more we had to wait. Compared to today, the exhibit was primitive but for us it was almost magical. The people and the animals moved. Mostly they moved back and forth in one spot or their heads went up and down, and we thought it amazing.

That trip was always the best from start to finish. We got to ride a bus and a subway both ways. We saw Santa and the village, and my mother usually bought us a treat like a cone or a soft pretzel.

It was those trips which helped make Boston my all time favorite city. When I got older, high school age, I’d make the trip with my friends. Little had changed. We all still looked out the window and we warned each other to meet at the next stop if we got separated.

Looks like this was longer than I expected!

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“Music is what feelings sound like.”

January 29, 2012

It’s colder than yesterday, far more seasonal at 38°, but I don’t mind. Neither does Gracie. I think it’s her favorite sort of day. She runs outside round and round the yard then comes in panting and walks over to me for a pat. I find her fur cold to the touch, especially her ears.

Winter is the easiest season to see because the sun and sky have hues different from any other season. The blue is sharper and the sun looks far more muted. When I look out the window, I can see that cold and feel it in my bones.

In winter, my house is never quiet. Hot air periodically roars through the vents from the furnace. Throughout most of the house I only hear it, but in the living room I see it when the curtain flies in the air, and in the kitchen I feel it at my feet while I do dishes.

On my way to breakfast every Sunday I listen to NPR and do Will Short’s puzzles. The rest of the week NPR is also my radio station of choice, but lately I’ve also been listening to WEEI sports to keep up with the Pats in preparation for the Super Bowl. The only music stations programmed on my radio are oldies. My friends and I play trivia every Thursday night. We groan when the question is about music as none of us know the music of today. I was lucky a few weeks ago when the question asked about Dick Dale and The Ventures and their genre of music. I knew right away it was surf. We got it right. That’s a rarity. Most times we haven’t ever heard of the singer whose name answers the question. If my nephew Mike is there, he is our only hope at knowing any music beyond the 70’s.

I sing along with the songs on my radio stations. They are the songs of my high school and college years. My head bops and one foot beats along with the familiar sounds. I take comfort in knowing the words and sing loudly and strongly. Today is the last of the birthyear songs. It has been great fun for me. I got to sing along.

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