Posted tagged ‘hibernating’

How much of this day have you already forgotten?”

February 23, 2018

Earlier this morning the sun was bright and was set in a blue, cloudless sky. Since then the clouds have taken over and hidden the sun. I’m beginning to think Mother Nature is really upset with us and is being vindictive, but I don’t know why. All I can hope is the sun fights through those clouds.

Last night we must have had a few flurries as the deck chair cover still had a bit of white on top this morning. It may rain tonight or the flurries might return.

I have a doctor’s appointment today which will get me out of the house again. I’m thinking afterwards I’ll go the long way home and go down Route 28. Maybe an open store will catch my eye, and I’ll stop.

I get bored with winter around this time every year. I’m tired of hibernating. I sit around most days in my comfy winter lay around the house outfit and read, go through cook books, randomly dust or polish and sometimes nap. All my laundry is even clean, all three bags. I also look through catalogs and check out the winter sale items. I bought a flannel shirt for myself yesterday and a Christmas present for a friend.

A favorite fish restaurant is now open for the season. I’m salivating at the thought of fried clams and onion rings. I’m thinking that my Route 28 excursion could very well end at that restaurant.

I’m watching a really bad Japanese movie  from 1965 called Invasion of Astro-Monster. The only non-Japanese cast member is Nick Adams. He speaks English while all the others speak Japanese. The movie is dubbed. I think by watching this I have sunk to a new level of bad movies.

Two things are missing. One is the cat’s ceramic dish. I put it away somewhere and can’t find it. I looked in all my usual places and a few crazy ones like the oven and the napkin drawer. I was actually glad the dish wasn’t in either spot. The other missing item is a decorative tin which was once filled at Christmas with peanut butter balls. It was on the top of a cabinet for weeks then I moved it. I have no idea where it is, probably with the dish.

Broken bones and memory lapses!!! I’d better print my name and address on the tags in all my shirts.

“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.

” Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.”

March 3, 2013

A dismal, dark day is becoming the norm. No change in the weather until Tuesday at the earliest. It’s cold: the temperature was 36˚ when I left for breakfast. I know March can be a raw, snowy month, but I’m hoping for something better. I saw a yellow bud in the garden this morning. I don’t know what flower it will be, but I was excited to see color. My clothes today are blue and grey. Even I am drab.

The feeders are empty, and I noticed the suet feeder must have fallen. I’ll have to bundle up to go out to refill the four feeders and rehang the suet.

I have new mice news. For nearly two weeks, none were in the trap upstairs so either they had become quite cagey (ha!) or there were no more. I chose to be optimistic and figured I’d relocated the whole population so I decided to move the trap to the cellar. Maddie loves to go down there, and I know there are mice in the cellar. When I had the two Siamese cats, they stayed in the cellar for hours. The death count was 17: 16 of theirs and one by drowning. Yesterday I checked the trap and I had caught my first cellar mouse. He is now living a mile and a half from here. I wish him well. This afternoon I will check the trap again.

This is the first winter I’ve ever hibernated. We don’t do trivia on Thursdays, and I haven’t seen a movie in a while. I don’t even grocery shop anymore. I wake up every morning and try to figure out the day and if I have anything on my calendar. When I do, I groan a little. I like being home reading and wearing my cozy clothes knowing I can nap should I so choose. I do other things like an occasional cleaning rampage, and the other day I organized the recipes I had snipped from newspapers and magazines. One of the folders I labeled Make These, and I will.

Sunday used to be my busiest and my least favorite day of the week. I’d empty the litter boxes, run the dishwasher, go to the dump, change my bed, do laundry and correct papers. I’d go to bed early as I used to get up at 5 or 5:15.

Looking at that old list of my Sunday chores gives me a bit of a chuckle. Now it takes me three or four days to accomplish the same tasks. I’m no hurry.

“Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.”

January 6, 2012

A dusting of snow was on the lawn this morning. It was the second dusting of the winter, and both are the only snow we’ve seen. The day is getting warmer, already up 5° since I first checked, and the warmth has made the dusting a memory. Today will be in the 40’s. During previous winters, a day in the 40’s was considered almost balmy but not this winter. 40 during the day seems to be the norm. The nights, however, are still cold, even freezing, and they remind us that this is really winter.

On our way to school on some windy winter mornings, we’d walk backwards when we had to go around the field at the foot of our hill. The wind whipped across that field with such ferocity I used to wonder if my nose would freeze and break off my face. Our coats were blown by the wind and our legs got so cold they turned red. We’d hurry as fast as backwards would let us to get pass that field because beyond the field was a street filled with houses on both sides which protected us from the wind. The cold, though, was something else. No matter how much my mother bundled us we were freezing by the time we got to school. We’d wear sweaters under our winter coats, and my mother shoved hats on our heads, mittens on our hands and scarfs around our necks. I even remember wearing some pink underwear my mother bought me which were like mini-leggings and went down as far as the tops of my knees. They were God-awful ugly but kept me a bit warmer. I prayed no one would ever see them.

Now, I am never outside long enough to get really cold. The other day I brought the bird feeders into the house as it was too chilly to stand outside and fill them. I’m cold only for a few minutes until my car gets toasty warm. I run to the store and run back to the car. I look outside the window here in my den, and I swear I can see the cold. I decide there is no reason whatsoever to go out, and I sit here and read in the warmth of my house. Like bears, I believe hibernating is the best winter survival tool.