Posted tagged ‘cloudy’
December 3, 2015
Today is warm for December, in the mid-50’s. The sun comes in and out from behind grey clouds. A small breeze ruffles the few leaves left on the oak trees.
My den is filled with bags and packages. Tonight I will begin wrapping the Colorado gifts so they can be sent. I’m hoping I can finish by Monday. The good thing is no ribbons on the packages as the cats are prone to eat them. I’ve even caught Fern munching.
When I was a kid, we had Advent wreaths, four candles set around a small decorated wreath which my mother always placed on the living room table. Three of the candles were purple and one was white or sometimes pink. Each Sunday in Advent one of the candles was lit. The odd color was for Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, the halfway point until Christmas. I can see the wreath in my mind’s eye. We’d all surround it and take a turn lighting the candles. I know there were specific prayers read from a card, but I have no memory of what they were or even who read them. I just remember the wreath and the candles.
Our house was always decorated. The picture window had snowflakes and stars from stencils and spray on white snow from a can. The Christmas cards were taped around the archway leading to the kitchen. Those were the days of Christmas cards. There were so many the mailman came twice. My mother would let us open them then she’d dutifully mark received on the index cards in the metal Christmas card file box. I remember the box had a green background and white trees and stars. Each year my mother would send cards to the names and addresses in the box and check sent when she did. If none were received back for two or three years, cards were no longer sent to them.
Cardboard Santas were taped on the walls and silver tinsel was hung around windows, but the centerpiece was always the tree. I remember crawling under it to plug in the lights which were big, different colors and burned hot. I also remember so many plugs attached one on top of the other I wonder how we avoided an electrical fire.
I always remember wonder when I think of Christmas as I was growing up. My memories are filled with colors and Christmas carols and wrapped presents under the tree. I remember all the Christmas cookie cutters and decorating sugar cookie Santas, trees, bells and reindeer. It was my mother who brought Christmas magic and gave us all the memories.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 4 candles, Advent wreaths, card box, Caudate Sunday, Christmas cards, cloudy, warm
Comments: 10 Comments
November 19, 2015
In The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe it is, in the beginning, perpetually winter. We are in a similar state, less extreme but still perpetual. Every day is cloudy. The daytime temperature is always in the 50’s. When the days are windy, the trees lose more and more brown, crumpled leaves and become even barer. We’ve had our first frost. The few flowers which still brightened my garden are gone. Overnight the bird bath water acquired a thin layer of ice which slivered when I broken it with my hand. I, however, have stopped whining about the weather because whining seems to make it worse. I’ve adopted a ho-hum philosophy instead.
This morning has been productive. My bed is already made and the first wash is done. It happens that way. All of a sudden I get a blast of energy, and I do stuff around the house. I keep eyeing my low cabinet in the kitchen, but it would take more than a blast to get me to organize it. It would take a miracle. I know miracles happen because I finally organized my closet a while back. I’m thinking maybe it is better to start small. The cabinet under the bathroom sink would be a great first endeavor. I think I’ll give that one a try.
I love my house and did from the first moment I walked in the door. This was, of course, before HGTV so words like open concept, window treatment, bonus room and en suite master did not exist in the common vocabulary. I wanted lots of wood, a downstairs bedroom/den and a dining room. This house has them all. The floors are wide pine planks, now faded and scratched in the same way floors in historic houses are. The downstairs bedroom is the den I wanted so the TV didn’t have to be in the living room. I have a wonderful dining room. It is painted nutmeg, my favorite of all the colors in the house. It is open to the kitchen. The archway between the rooms is outlined in pine. The fireplace is on the left side of the large wall in the living room because the builder didn’t want to have two small corners. My yard is huge or rather Gracie’s yard is huge. I really love this house.
There are only two things I would add. The first is a screened front porch. That’s where you get to greet the neighbors. The second is a pantry. Everything I need would be right there, and I wouldn’t have to move stuff to find what I want. The cabinet I avoid scares me a bit. Moving one thing means several others will fall. I could be buried and not found for days. In a pantry order is easy.
I really have no intention of ever living somewhere else. I’m quite content with my back deck and my totally disorganized cabinet.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 50˚, clean cabinets, cloudy, dining room, extra bedroom, front porch, frost, HGTV jargon, made bed, my house, organize closets, pantry, productive, wash, wide plank pine floors, windy
Comments: 24 Comments
November 15, 2015
Ditto on yesterday morning’s weather, but it’s a bit colder than it was. TV was so bad last night I don’t even remember what I watched. Mostly it was just background noise so I managed to go through and toss away several catalogues and magazines. I even found a couple of gifts for people and a couple of recipes for me.
Yesterday my sister and I were talking and all of a sudden my mother entered the conversation, sort of. I mentioned someone I knew had a tough row to hoe. My mother used to say that, and it sort of just flew unbidden out of my mouth as I haven’t heard it in years. I didn’t understand it when I was really little and later I couldn’t figure out how a farm metaphor became part of my mother’s lexicon. Both my parents had favorite sayings. My dad called someone a good egg, and that was a high compliment indeed. I always understood it, but in Ghana I found out exactly what it meant. When aunties (women sellers) came to my house with eggs to sell, I bought only those eggs which fell to the bottom of my bucket of water. They were the good eggs. Dressed to the nines always threw me, but I finally figured out from the conversation what my mother meant. I did wonder why dressed to the nines, not the tens or the fives. I didn’t find what that one meant until not that long ago. It seems the very best suits used a full nine yards of fabric. The kiss of death was one of my mother’s. I thought it meant Judas at the Last Supper, but the Mafia co-opted it to mean giving a kiss to someone marked for death prior to his execution.
I suspect there are many expressions my grandparents used which may still be around though their meanings have probably disappeared. Some of ours will have the same fate. I doubt my grandnephew will know why we tell him to roll down the window or hang up the phone. I wonder if he knows clockwise. His watch has no hands.
Right now I’m going to turn on the TV.
Categories: Musings
Tags: clockwise, cloudy, cold, dressed to the nines, good egg, kiss of death, lexicon, tough row to hoe
Comments: 16 Comments
November 12, 2015
Cloudy still, but finally the rain has stopped. Even the wind of last night has calmed and everything is quiet. Some leaves still hang from oak branches despite all that weather. Pine needles are everywhere covering lawns, driveways and my deck. If I had awakened from a coma and looked out the window, I’d know it was fall.
Each season has its own identity, but the identities sometimes blur when moving from one season to another. A few weeks ago was late summer and shirt-sleeve weather. My friends and I ate on the deck. Winter then sneaked in for a bit and we had temperatures in the high 30’s. Now, though, summer has finally gone and fall is here. The days are in the 50’s but the nights are colder, into the high 40’s. It isn’t yet jacket weather. A sweatshirt will suffice.
I saw where many places got snow: my sister got 3 or 4 inches in Colorado, but the mountains got far more. She said it was cold, down to the teens at night. It was sort of a run of the mill storm for her because her first snow is usually in late October or early November. She says 3 or 4 inches is nothing. I agree. I think of a snowstorm with so little snow as a sweeper, a broom instead of a shovel.
When I was a kid, any amount of snow was worthwhile. A huge storm was always the best as that would mean no school and a day spent outside building forts, throwing snowballs or sledding down the hill. A storm of tree or four inches meant fun after school, but it also brought the horrors of snow boots and ski pants. I could never get my shoes out of my boots without taking the boots off and pulling the shoes out. The ski pants went under my uniform skirt. I hated the look of the skirt over the pants, but my mother insisted as my legs would be so red from the snow and the cold when I’d get home if I didn’t wear them.
I can remember sitting at my desk looking out the window and seeing branches bent lower from the snow, the outside windows sills holding snow piles and snow falling from an occasional squall. I think all of us, my classmates and I, spent the day sighing.
Categories: Musings
Tags: boots, cloudy, fall, leaves falling, pine needles, seasons, ski pants, Snow, snow squalls, sweatshirt weather, winter
Comments: 8 Comments
November 7, 2015
Yesterday and sometime during the night it rained. The wind was so strong my deck, my lawn and my driveway have disappeared, buried in fallen leaves and pine needles. The sky is still overcast and the day is damp and cooler than it has been. Yesterday was close to 70˚. I even had windows open including my bedroom all night.
A loud noise woke me up last night. When I turned on the light, I found Gracie had rolled out of bed to the floor. I hurried to check her. She seemed fine and had no problem jumping back onto the bed. This morning I checked her again, and she seems fine. I suspect she was as shocked as I was. Fern looked, didn’t move and quickly went back to sleep.
Yesterday morning there was a head-on collision on the Sagamore Bridge. The front page of the Cape Times had a blurb which said the driver of the box truck was seriously injured. The inside, more detailed article, quoted the CEO of the company saying the driver was injured but was okay. It wasn’t the fact of the accident which caught my attention but rather the cargo of the two trucks. One carried fish and the other cranberries. I have to think the cape would be just about the only place where fish and cranberries would be involved in the same accident. The driver was concerned about his two beautiful bluefin tuna. The description of the accident by a police officer in Bourne gave me a chuckle, “Cranberries were observed covering the entire roadway in either direction on the bridge.” After the offending cranberries were removed, the bridge was reopened.
I do love reading my papers, but I often find the language wanting and sometimes even silly. Sadly a woman’s burned body was found on Wednesday near railroad tracks in Bridgewater. Her hands and feet were bound. According to the article, police speculated this was a homicide. There were a couple of quotes from people living in the neighborhood. This was my favorite and clearly indicated the author was starved for copy, “It’s very disturbing to have a dead body dumped next to the house you grew up in.” You think?
Categories: Musings
Tags: 70˚, cloudy, damp, fallen leaves, fish and cranberries, head-on collision, murder, pine needles, rain
Comments: 12 Comments
November 2, 2015
Skip, my factotum, is here, and the deck furniture and decorations are disappearing, some being covered and others being stored in plastic bins. I was outside for a while just chatting but I got chilly so I came inside. Skip doesn’t need any instructions from me. He does this every year. For him it’s a job, but for me it is the sad ending of movie nights, barbecues, sitting by myself under the stars watching fireflies flit through the backyard and listening to cicadas which always remind me of maracas.
The sun taunted us a bit earlier. It came and went quickly. It’s getting chillier and the sky is cloudy. The breeze comes and goes. Right now everything is still, not even a leaf is moving. I think I’ll read today. I’m thinking cozy under the covers. If I nap, it’s all good.
I’m wearing what I think of as my winter uniform: flannel pants, socks and slippers and a sweatshirt with a pouch to keep my hands warm. When I was a kid, I had pairs of flannel pajamas. When I got home from school and wasn’t going out, I’d change into pajamas because they were comfy and warm. I always wore slipper socks. They and the pajamas were traditional Christmas gifts. My pajamas had snowmen or elves, Christmas trees or even Santa on them. My slippers were usually red. They had a sort of knitted top and leather soles. I liked the scuffing sounds the soles made on the wooden floor. My mother didn’t.
My mother wore slippers, sort of slippers. The toes were open, and they had no backs. I always thought they were useless because to me slippers are meant to keep your feet warm, but my mother said her feet never got cold. The rest of her did as she always had the thermostat up high. We’d complain. She’d get feisty.
I know why the heat was up so high. I’ve learned the older I get the less tolerant I am of cold. My mother’s house would be perfect now.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cicadas, clearing deck, cloudy, covering furniture, factotum, flannel, listening to night birds, sweatshirt, winter uniform
Comments: 6 Comments
August 23, 2015
It is so quiet. The animals are having their morning naps, the birds aren’t singing and I don’t hear a sound from any house, not dishes, not voices, nothing. The air is still so even the leaves aren’t moving. The day is cloudy and damp. It rained yesterday and last night. The sun was out once this morning but disappeared quickly. It is the sort of day which saps my energy and makes me want to lie around and read or even nap.
If I were to rate the days of the week, Saturday would be my favorite day and Sunday my least favorite but Monday is close to Sunday at the bottom. This rating hasn’t changed since I was a kid. Saturday was the freest day of all. I had no obligations. I could do whatever I wanted. Cartoons and kids’ shows ruled the morning airwaves. I could eat my cereal in the living room in front of the TV. In the winter I could go to the movies. Saturday did have a few traditions like supper was always hot dogs, beans and brown bread. I think having that menu was a rule if you lived in New England. Saturday night was bath night. I never gave it a thought that we only had a bath once a week. I guess as long as the parts people saw were clean was enough until Saturday.
I can do anything I want any day of the week now so I try not to do much on Saturdays because it is a busy day around and about town. People are grocery shopping, doing other errands and going to the dump. This time of year tourists are coming and going as Saturday is change-over day. If you don’t go out early, you don’t go out at all. Mostly that means I stay home.
Movie night is tonight, postponed from last night. The crowd has two choices: The Haunting and What’s Up Doc? I’m hoping the vote is for the second movie. I could use the laughs.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bath night, cartoons, cereal, cloudy, dampness, favorite day, lie around and read, naps, quiet, Saturday and Sunday, still air
Comments: 11 Comments
July 21, 2015
Today isn’t as hot as yesterday but the humidity is still stifling. Tonight will be cooler, and the cool weather will stay around for the next few days. The sun was out earlier but now the sky is grey, a light grey which hangs around but doesn’t brings rain. The air conditioner is still on and the house is cool. I noticed my neighbors had their windows opened earlier, but they have since closed them and put the AC back on. It doesn’t take long for the heat to permeate the house.
My mother used to keep the shades down when I was a kid. All the rooms downstairs resembled caves. She said it kept the rooms cooler. I remember going inside to get a drink and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was worse going back outside when I had to cover my eyes because of the brightness of the sun. My mother was never one for sun. She wore sunglasses all year, on any day with sun. We used to call her the mole.
Being a kid had such freedom attached. I don’t mean I could go and do what I wanted, but social conventions didn’t kick in until I was older. We laughed at the grossest stuff and told horrid jokes. Milk up someone’s nose was fodder for endless jibes. We thought it hysterical. I remember there was a joke phase involving Helen Keller and kids with no arms or legs and the punch lines would send us into peals of laughter. We weren’t cruel. We were just kids. Being dirty meant nothing to us. I’d grab a sandwich and not even think about washing my hands unless my mother made me. We ate dinner on the fly, no sitting down and taking our time. We wanted to finish quickly so we could take advantage of the daylight.
In summer the street light rule was not in effect. We stayed outside until it got pretty dark. I remember my neighborhood with the windows all open and living room lamps shining to break the darkness. It was as if stars had come to ground. There was a certain beauty to it all.
Categories: Musings
Tags: being a kid, being dirty, being kids, cloudy, cool house, daylight, dinner on the fly, dirty hands, Helen Keller jokes, hot and humid, shades down, street light rule
Comments: 6 Comments
July 18, 2015
The weather is unsatisfactory. It is cloudy and chilly with a strong breeze verging on a wind. Rain is a maybe later this afternoon. Tonight is movie night so I’m hoping for the sun to rise dramatically with a ta-da soundtrack and chase away the clouds. The breeze can stay.
I am not a huge fan of westerns. I suspect it was because I spend enormous chunks of time when I was young watching them on TV. Every Saturday I got to watch The Lone Ranger, Sky King, an odd take on a western with a plane instead of a horse, Roy Rogers with his wife Dale Evans, Annie Oakley, Fury, The Cisco Kid and Pancho, Will Bill Hickok, Rin Tin Tin of at ease, Rinny, fame, and Tales of Texas Rangers. I figure there are more, but this blog entry would go on forever.
Night too was filled with westerns. Gunsmoke was on for close to a hundred years and there were others including Sugarfoot, Cheyenne, Judge Roy Bean, the law west of the Pecos, The Texans, Have Gun Will Travel (for the longest time I thought it was half gun and wondered how he managed), Texas John Slaughter who wore that great hat, The Range Rider, Wagon Train, suave Yancy Derringer and Pahoo-Ka-Ta-Wah, Maverick, a personal favorite, and Wild Wild West, my all time favorite.
TV was where I first saw science fiction jump off the pages of my books to the screen. Captain Midnight, brought to you by Ovaltine, and his sidekick, Ichabod Mudd (with 2 D’s) fought the good fight against evil men everywhere with help from his Secret Squadron (that would be any of us, the TV audience, who mailed in an Ovaltine proof of purchase). I watched the recycled Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serials, Commando Cody who had a jet pack and wore an odd helmet when he flew and Tom Corbett Space Cadet. That last one reminded me we used to call kids who were way out there space cadets. It was not a compliment.
TV program outcomes were never in doubt in those days. The hero would always win. In westerns he’d have a fist fight and generally keep his hat on. It didn’t matter how many times the good and bad guys hit each other as there were never bruises and never blood. The worst thing was a dusty shirt and hat.
I believed for the longest time good always triumphed over evil. Even now I’d like to think it’s true.
Categories: Musings
Tags: breezy, Captain Midnight, chilly, cloudy, Gunsmoke, Roy Rogers, Science fiction, Sugarfoot, The Lone Ranger, westerns
Comments: 14 Comments
June 29, 2015
The morning is sweatshirt weather, cloudy, damp and chilly. Everything is still a bit wet. We need sun, and luckily, the weather report is hopeful: sun in the afternoon. I hope it’s right.
My neighbor and I chatted this morning, and I sat on the damp steps for so long I could get piles. Okay, I know that’s not true, but that’s what I used to hear: sitting on cold ground was never a good idea because it caused piles. It wasn’t until I was much older that I found out piles are better known as hemorrhoids. Their connection to damp concrete was just an old wife’s tale, a bit of a weird one I think.
I have a few errands for later but that’s it for the day. My back is feeling better so I don’t want to chance hurting it again by doing anything. It’s a great excuse to lie around and do nothing, as if I really needed an excuse.
Every now and then I lose a day. I find something to hold my attention and before I know it the day has gone to afternoon. Often it is a good book as I am always loath to put down a good book. Sometimes I sit on the deck, get drowsy and fall asleep on the lounge. When I wake up, the sun is lower in the sky.
I seldom check clocks and I don’t wear a watch. If I need to be somewhere, I leave early enough to get there. My bedroom has a clock because once in a while I need to set the alarm, usually to meet friends for breakfast. My den has the clock on the cable box. I check it to make sure to watch a particular TV program. I think this dislike of clocks and watches comes from my life having been driven by time. I had to get up in time to have breakfast and to walk to school, later to catch the bus to school. Ghana was where time was of the least importance, but I still needed to know when my class was starting, and I had to set the alarm to catch an early bus. Beyond those, time meant little. You waited until the lorry was filled before it could leave. Nobody knew how long that would take. People arrived whenever which was defined as Ghana time. I got used to that. I learned to wait, to while away the time.
When I got home, I was again ruled by clocks and watches. Wasting time was sinful. It was the alarm clock every morning and bells all through the day to start and stop classes. Buses and trains left on time.
Retirement is glorious as time is of little importance. I go to bed when I’m tired and wake up whenever. I list appointments on the desk calendar, the one with Jeopardy questions, the one my sister puts in my stocking every year. I don’t keep a daily calendar in my bag the way I used to when I worked. I am a lady of leisure who has no need to know the time.
Categories: Musings
Tags: appointment calendar, cloudy, errands, Ghanaian time, good books, hurt back, lose time, lost days, piles, retirement, sloth, timeless, waiting, watches and clocks, wet ground, while away the time, while the time away
Comments: 12 Comments
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