Posted tagged ‘drab winter’’

“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.”

January 1, 2015

Happy New Year, my friends.

I was still awake to say goodbye to 2014 and to give 2015 a hearty welcome then I stayed awake longer and watched Twilight Zone episodes, several of them. I woke up close to eleven this morning and took my time with coffee and the papers. The morning doesn’t feel any different from yesterday’s morning. A new year always begins with parties, noise, funny hats and midnight celebrations then settles back to the usual day by day stuff. The cats and the dog are having their morning naps oblivious to the importance of the day. As for me, I’ve nothing planned, and that makes me glad.

Winter has settled in. Today is cold. It even looks cold. The sky has a pale blue color and some scattered clouds. The dead, brown leaves at the ends of the oak branches are waving in the breeze. Lots of birds are at the feeders. The red spawn was here earlier but has since gone. I haven’t seen any cars on my road. I can’t think of any reason to go out or even to get dressed.

Christmas will begin to disappear tomorrow. It’ll take at least a couple of days and several trips up and down the cellar stairs. I’m never happy to say goodbye to Christmas. It is the one bright spot in a drab, cold winter.

There is a sense of accomplishment left over from yesterday when I actually did two loads of laundry. The basket had sat in the hall for a few days, and I just walked around it. Finally I decided it was time. I even put the clean laundry away, but I’m going to change my bed later and start a new pile of laundry.

Thank you for having spent another year with Coffee. I cherish you all.

“Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so.”

December 29, 2014

I no longer consider myself a loller. Yesterday I went out and did my errands and even brought my laundry downstairs, but I admit it got no further and still sits in the hall waiting for its final journey. I am in no hurry to move it. I just keep adding to it. Doing laundry demands a particular mood or a frantic need for specific clothes like underwear. Maybe tomorrow I keep telling myself.

It’s chilly today. We have sun and a blue sky, but it is pleasing only to the eye, best seen from the warm house through a window.

Getting ready then celebrating Christmas made for an exciting week. It was filled with anticipation and neither Christmas Eve nor Christmas Day disappointed. Now, however, there is a lull. I don’t even have a dance card. I take naps. I still light the Christmas tree every night, but its days are numbered. Soon the house will be boring, bereft of light and color, a perfect reflection of winter.

The ocean in winter looks dark and foreboding. The beach is sometimes so windy and bone chillingly cold you fear you’ll never get warm. The car heater on high makes your fingers tingle as they start to feel again. Your feet seem to take a bit longer, but taking off your shoes and putting your feet by the heater helps. Soon enough hands and feet are back to normal, and it is time to lower the blasting heat and move along.

I always hope no one comes to my door on a winter’s afternoon. I am never dressed for company. Even now I’m in my winter uniform. I’m wearing a sweatshirt, a Celtics sweatshirt, my around the house pants and a pair of new slippers. I haven’t even brushed my hair, but I don’t care. I am comfy and happy, and I’m thinking that’s all that counts.

“In the winter she curls up around a good book and dreams away the cold.”

September 24, 2013

The time has come for the storm door. I have been keeping the back door closed because of the cold so Gracie rings her bells to go out. I trudge to the kitchen, open the door and wait so I can close the door when Gracie comes back inside. No question about it, the screen door is done for the season.

The game Sunday was wonderful. It was perfect fall baseball weather with lots of sun and a cooling breeze. My friends and I were not seated together so I made random comments aloud prompted by good fielding and a couple of home runs. The lady beside me was mute: she didn’t choose to chat. The guy on the other side tolerated my blithering. He had driven down from Maine, but it took him less time than it had taken us. The traffic was so slow going off cape it took us nearly an hour to get to the bridge. That game was the last one at home for the regular season. The Sox will be in Colorado for the next two games, and my family, wearing their Red Sox garb, will be  cheering them on. I’ll watch on TV.

Today Gracie and I will go to the dump then to the farm stand. I’d like some gourds for the basket on the front steps. A small pumpkin is already there, but I love all the different colors and shapes of the gourds. I have some gourds I brought back from Ghana. Some were used when taking a bucket bath while others are ornamental with wood burned or etched designs. I never saw them growing nor did I see any in the market before the outsides had rotted or been removed. Women fill the gourds with rice then stand and let the rice fall in a cascade from the gourd into a pan. The hope is the small stones in the rice will pop out of the pan and be removed during the process. It is not always successful. Stones in cooked rice are pretty common. Broken teeth are too.

The birds are back in huge numbers. It seems I have been forgiven for my lapse of a day without seed. The thistle feeder had three goldfinches on it; none of them were wearing bright yellow. I think the finches are starting to sport their winter color or rather their lack of color. It is time to start bracing ourselves for the season of drab: one of leafless trees, desolate gardens, early darkness and clothes of muted colors.

The good thing is I have recovered.

“I cannot pretend to feel impartial about colors. I rejoice with the brilliant ones and am genuinely sorry for the poor browns.”

February 20, 2012

By this time of year people are usually complaining about the cold and the snow and the whereabouts of spring. You meet someone in the supermarket and right away the conversation turns to the weather where you have common grounds about which to chat as you choose your pasta. The word cold is bandied about as people whine and complain and you pick the ziti. This year, though, is entirely different. Cold has a new definition and complaining has taken a different form. Now we complain when the weather is in the 30’s, a temperature which used to be a reprieve from the freezing days of past winters. Today is 35°, and I think it cold. The weatherman predicts the rest of the week will be in the 40’s and Thursday will be close to 50°. That’s winter, at least this year, and I have no complaints.

This morning I noticed all the green shoots in the garden close to the house. I can see three daffodil bulbs, but I forget what flowers the rest of the shoots belong to. Last fall I planted a bundle of different bulbs so I have no idea what’s coming. I figure that’s like getting a gift from spring.

Summer clothes are always the brightest. Winter clothes seem drab by comparison, and I think that the whole color thing ought to be reversed. In winter we should be dressed as brightly as we can be in orange and yellow and pinks and violets and all their combinations. Usually it is Easter which brings back the color in clothes, and that’s not when we need it. By Easter the world has already begun to color itself in bright blossoms and flowers and berries. The gardens are alive and the tree leaves are fresh and bright. It is in winter when we should be at our most brilliant.

Today I will wear the brightest color I can find, maybe even a Hawaiian shirt. I know I’ll have to wear a long sleeve something underneath to keep me warm, but that’s okay. It’s the color you can see that’s important.

In case you’re wondering, I’m that bedazzling shopper in the pasta aisle.

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