Posted tagged ‘dusting of snow’

“I sadly want a reform in the construction of children. Nature’s only idea seems to be to make them machines for the production of incessant noise.”

January 5, 2016

I seem to be hibernating. Today I woke up at quarter to twelve and have just now finished my morning coffee and papers. I even had an English muffin, the one with nooks and crannies. During the night we got a dusting of snow. When I went to get the papers, I wanted to hurry because it was so cold, but I figured I’d slip and fall on the snow covered walk so I took my time and froze just a little. I am going nowhere today. I’m going to vacuum and that’s it for industry although I did dust a couple of spots using the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I have a book calling out my name so I’ll get comfy and read the day away.

My house is quiet. I can only hear Gracie’s deep breathing. She’s sleeping at the other end of the couch. The cats are also asleep but they sleep quietly. When I was growing up, I think the house was never quiet except deep into the night when we were all finally asleep. The TV was always on, and at least one of us was sitting in front watching. We sometimes argued about what to watch but not often. The choices back then were limited. My sisters played together, and their dolls talked to one another in weird little voices. By late afternoon my mother was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. I could hear pots and pans clanging, water running and the fridge and oven doors opening and shutting. By then Superman and the Mickey Mouse Club were on TV and we all sat and watched. Dinner was quick and noisy. The four of us sat at the table while my mother stood at the counter.  She always did that. My father was seldom home in time for dinner. After we had eaten, it was back to the TV for a bit then it was time to get washed up and put on our pajamas. My sisters went to bed first. My brother and I were older and had a later bedtime. I used to sneak and read under the covers as long as I could before I’d get caught. My mother knew I did that and was on alert. She’d yell up the stairs to tell me to turn off the light and go to sleep. The house by then was almost quiet. I could hear my parents’ voices from downstairs but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. I don’t think I really cared. Finally I’d fall and stay asleep until my mother woke me up the next morning, and we’d start it all over again, including the noise.

“Everyone needs fudge, Hildy. It’s how God helps us cope.”

February 13, 2015

Run, run for your lives! The world is coming to an end. A bright orb framed by azure has appeared in the sky. Its light is so dazzling I have to cover my eyes. I think it must be aflame.

A slight exaggeration perhaps but the sun has actually appeared, the first time in a couple of weeks or maybe years. I forget. I lost track. Today, though, is freezing cold. The sun is but a ruse. The prediction is 12˚ for the daytime high and 6˚ for tonight. When I went outside to get the papers, the cold took my breath away.

Last night we had a dusting, just enough to cover the car windows, the steps and the walkway. Before I went to bed I threw de-icer on the dog’s steps so they were clear for her this morning. Did I think of front steps? Of course not. I will walk gingerly.

A huge storm is coming tomorrow night. I just shrugged my shoulders at the news and went about my business. We have all become so inured to snow I lost my interest about 6 inches ago. The weatherman says 12+, but he has no idea what the + means in inches of snow. I figure it doesn’t matter.

My usual optimism is a bit buried. I have become indifferent. I am easily bored and drift from one thing to another. I read a bit, watch some TV, play backgammon on-line, clean a little and finally take a nap, exhausted by ennui.

I have to go out later. Gracie needs a few more cans of dog food to last through the storm. I need bread, not the pre-storm rush to buy bread, just bread. Chinese food has been on my mind so I’m thinking I’ll get dinner. I’m also thinking the bakery and a whoopie pie. Nothing blasts away indifference like chocolate.

“Snow’s all right on a fine morning, but I like to be in bed when it’s falling”

January 22, 2015

When I woke up this morning, I could see snow on the tops of the branches of the pine trees. I checked outside my bedroom window and we’d had a dusting overnight. It is the first snow of the season but not much of a showing by Old Man Winter. Mind you I’m not complaining but a fluffy dusting of snow is just annoying. You can’t sled or build a snowman or even make a snowball. The driveway was clear for some odd reason as were parts of the road. Now, an hour or so later, the temperature is above freezing, and the snow is gone from the branches. The sun even made a short appearance.

Gracie and I are venturing out later. I need some of life’s essentials: cat food, light cream and bread. I might also do a bit of shopping. I need a scoop to form meatballs and a metal masher for potatoes.

I’m thinking of a contest. Similar to a random guess of the number of marbles in a jar, I’m wondering how many unanswered calls will be made here before the caller gives up. The calls are from all over the country: the latest was Texas. The phone rings a few times then the caller hangs up. Names have recently been added to the caller ID, but they don’t tempt me to answer. Most calls are just after 9 AM and 6PM. I called the number. Surprise, surprise, the call could not be completed.

Here is a mystery for you to solve. What three well-known, popular to many people, singers have never appeared here. The reason is because I don’t like any of the three despite their popularity. I change the station on the car radio if I hear anyone of them. I’m sure there are many singers I haven’t posted, but these three are the only ones I deliberately ignore. Mrs. Miller is not one of them-that’s my only hint.

“The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?”

January 30, 2014

If someone was giving out gold stars, I’d get a few. I feel so accomplished. This morning I had blood drawn, went to the bank, the dump, the pharmacy and Dunkin’ Donuts, all by 9:30. Yesterday the @#$%$$#dump was closed because of the snow on Tuesday night. My trunk had been filled with potentially smelly trash so I was not happy. Luckily it stayed cold. Now I am done with errands and intend to stay inside cozy and warm. I have earned it. A sloth I will be.

Both my papers had stories about Atlanta. One headline was “City Brought to Standstill by 3 Inches of Snow.” It gave me the chuckle I suspect was meant. We got between 4 and 5 inches overnight on Tuesday which is not even considered a snow storm, a dusting maybe. The schools were even open. I swept the walk all the way to the car which plowed easily through the snow in front of it to the road without needing any shoveling or sweeping. By late morning the sun was shining, and the road was down to pavement. Today the sun is shining again with that shimmering light that only comes with winter and the sky is stark blue, both helping the day take on the illusion of warmth. It was 20˚ went I went to the dump.

The threshold between childhood and adulthood is hazy and comes in steps. Thinking of snow as a bother is one of those steps. When I was a kid and it had snowed, I was just so excited. I’d grab my sled and we all, the whole neighborhood, sledded, and flew down the hill whizzing by those trudging up the hill, those who had already flown. We’d build snow forts and use water to ice and reinforce the walls. They’d last for weeks. We had snowball fights. The world was a giant play-land. Some time or other all that stopped and snow on the ground meant shoveling and not much more. That’s still my current stand about snow. Once you cross the line, it’s usually forever.

The sledding and the snow forts may go, but a few pieces of that childhood and snow never disappear. I think snow is lovely when it falls, when the world is hushed. When I was young, I’d watch the flakes fall in the shine of the street light by my house. Now I turn on the outside lights and stand at the door to watch the flakes falling and sometimes I put out my hand to catch a few.

After the storm, I used to pile on the winter clothes, put on a hat and mittens, shovel the walk and then free my car. Sometimes it took hours depending upon the amount of snow, and I’d come close to freezing. The snow had stopped being pretty and had become a nuisance. Now I stay and wait for Skip, my plowman. The snow is pretty again.

“Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.”

January 10, 2014

The alarm went off at eight as it is breakfast Friday, the once a month get-together of women I worked with for years. I turned off the alarm, looked out the window, saw snow and went back to bed for another half hour. The breakfast is a come-if-you-can sort so I wasn’t expected. I’ll go next month.

The day is dreary. The snow, only a dusting, covers everything. Even the pines look sort of nice with their branches layered in snow. The birds were missing from the deck feeders during the coldest days, probably holed up in tight clumps of bushes or branches somewhere, but they returned in yesterday’s warmth, a word loosely used here, but they aren’t around again today. Only the red spawn was at the sunflower seeds. He does his trick of jumping from the deck rail to the squirrel buster feeder (note the feeder’s name), grabs a seed in flight then lands back on the rail to dine. I get crazed and usually chase him off the rail into the yard. I think I have him so paranoid that the door opening scares him right off the deck away from the seeds for most of the day. Banging my feet on the deck as I run at him probably helps too. I suspect the birds will return tomorrow when it is supposed to be 50˚.

I was all set for a dump run today, but now I’m not so sure. The dump is always cold with a strong wind which cuts to the bone, and I’ve had enough of bone-chilling cold this week. I’ll stave off my conscience by doing laundry, but if the afternoon looks better, Gracie and I can still do the dump run.

Christmas gives such color and brightness to the winter that I miss it terribly when it’s gone. I left my outside lights and my fake inside pine tree lit until the day after Little Christmas. My neighbors did the same. Now we have all gone dark except for my palm tree. It stands on deck near the backdoor and is bright green with a yellow trunk. My neighbors love my palm tree.

I crave color in winter. Even my winter wardrobe tends to be drab, utilitarian. The clothes are meant for warmth, not fashion. I could remedy that I suppose, but since my retirement I am seldom inclined to buy new clothes. I did buy a flannel shirt this winter, but that’s it. Maybe I’ll add a jaunty scarf in brilliant pink to my winter ensemble.

“Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering ‘it will be happier’…”

December 31, 2013

A dusting of snow was the surprise this morning. I first noticed it on the tree branches outside my bedroom window. The weatherman must have been so intent on the Thursday-Friday storm he forgot to mention this dusting, probably too little to notice.

It is cold. We have no sun for the third day in a row, and I’m beginning to forget what it looks like. All I see is a foreboding sky with dark, bare branches silhouetted against it. 

I intent to stay inside all day today. Yesterday I did a couple of errands so I’m all set. Warmth and comfort are all I seek. I have a book to keep me occupied and laundry to do if I feel any need to be industrious, but the laundry has been sitting in plain sight a couple of days so that’s not likely. I am in my coziest clothes, the coffee is freshly brewed and the larder is sufficient. 

I have no plans for tonight. When I was younger, I always celebrated on New Year’s Eve, usually at a party with a few friends. A couple of times I went to First Night in Boston and once in Reading, a town north of Boston. More than not, though, I just stayed home. My mother always called to wish me a Happy New Year. 

I don’t make resolutions. I used to but was horrific at keeping them. Now I just hope that every new year is better than the last and that I stay healthy and happy. That seems to be more than enough. 

I wish you all the happiest of new year’s and thanks for hanging around for another year!