Posted tagged ‘patches of blue’

“In my opinion, too much attention to weather makes for instability of character.”

February 27, 2015

Today is balmy at 24˚. When I woke up, the sun was bright and framed by a deep blue sky, but the perpetual grayness of this winter has reappeared. There are now only patches of blue, and the sun has become a hazy light from behind a cloud. Tonight will be in the teens but with no wind. Next week one day will be in the 40’s if the forecast holds true. I’m expecting a parade and fireworks and picnics on the town green.

Lethargic pretty much describes me. I read a whole book from Tuesday afternoon to Wednesday night and then started on another. I did change my bed and the cat litter yesterday and went to the store as I had no bread. That’s it. That’s all I did, and I exhausted myself. Winter’s cold saps my energy.

I don’t know how old we are when weather becomes an issue, a topic of conversation. When I was a kid, the weather just happened. I got wet when it rained and cold when it snowed, but neither bothered me. It was hot in the summer, but that’s what summer is. Sitting under a tree for a while and running through the sprinklers were cure-alls for a hot day. The hot nights never stopped us from falling asleep. We were exhausted from playing all day. In my early 20’s I was in Ghana where 100+ degrees was the every day temperature this time of year. I didn’t complain about that either. I went to bed soaking wet after my shower and easily fell asleep as I air-dried.

Growing older and complaining about the weather are connected. I need the house warmer than I used to both during the day and at night. 68˚ is my usual daytime high though I’ll turn it higher if I’m cold. 64˚ is nighttime. I used to keep my house at 66˚ during the day and 58˚ at night. The two cats I had both slept under the covers. They were Siamese and liked warmth. Now, I can’t even imagine the house that cold.

Yesterday was snowing when I went out. A lady walked by me and said, “Oh my God more snow,” then kept walking. Weather does bring people together giving even strangers something to talk about.

“There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.”

November 24, 2013

Last night the wind blew then blew some more and whistled and shook the house. It was tremendous.

Today is bone-chillingly cold. Patches of blue dot the sky. The wind is not as strong as last night but it is still whipping the bare branches of the pines and oaks. The sun shines weakly for a while then disappears and leaves behind a bleakness, a wintry feel to the day. Outside is not at all inviting.

I have always believed Thanksgiving is more about family than any other holiday. I remember the Thanksgivings of my childhood and being home together the whole day biding our time until dinner. My mother always woke up in the wee hours of the morning to stuff the turkey then put it into the oven. The huge oval turkey pan was blue with small white dots. Sometimes the turkey was so big it just fit into the pan. I can still see my mother straining to pull the shelf out of the oven so she could baste the turkey. She always took a taste of the hard outside crust of the stuffing before she’d push the turkey back into the oven. Her stuffing tasted of sage and Bell’s Seasoning. It is still my favorite stuffing of them all. The windows were always steamed from the heat so my mother would open the back door to cool the small kitchen. While she worked on dinner, we sat in front of the TV and watched the Macy’s parade. She always put out the same snacks for the parade. There was a bowl of nuts to crack and eat, M&M’s and tangerines. I always like the tangerines because they were so easy to peel. The nuts were fun to crack.

When we were young, the menu didn’t vary much. Mashed potatoes were one of the highlights. I remember the big glob of butter my mother would put on top and how it would melt down the sides of the pile of potatoes. I always made a well in my potatoes where I’d put the gravy. I am still a huge fan of mashed potatoes. Creamed onions were on the menu because they were one of my father’s favorites. Peas were mine. The green beans came from a can because all our vegetables did. My father cut the meat with great ceremony and we all watched. He cut plenty of white meat because it was our favorite, but not my father’s. He was a leg man.

Dessert was always the same. My mother made an apple pie, a blueberry pie and a lemon meringue pie, my personal favorite. Pumpkin  pie was added when we were older.

Leftovers seemed to last forever.