Posted tagged ‘rain’
May 12, 2013
I woke up to the sound of rain, a gentle rain. I stayed in bed a while and listened. I could also hear Gracie’s deep sleep breathing and every now and then a sigh. Today is Mother’s Day. It is the day I honor my mother and my memories of her. Last week my friend and I went out to dinner. She mentioned it was her mother’s birthday and how much she still misses her. She said no one told us it would be this hard.
Every year I post the same entry about my mother. At Easter this year my sister and I laughed about the curses she inflicted on us: the love of everything Christmas and never thinking you have enough presents for everyone, giving Easter baskets overflowing with candy and fun toys and surprising people with a gift just because.
My mother had a generosity of spirit. She was funny and smart and the belle of every ball. She always had music going in the kitchen as she worked so she could sing along. She played Frank and Tony and Johnny and from her I learned the old songs. My mother drew all the relatives, and her house was filled. My cousins visited often. She was their favorite aunty. My mother loved to play Big Boggle, and we’d sit for hours at the kitchen table and play so many games we’d lose track of the time. Christmas was always amazing, and she passed this love to all of us. We traveled together, she and I, and my mother was game for anything. I remember Italy and my mother and me after dinner at the hotel bar where she’d enjoy her cognac. She never had it any other time, but we’re on vacation she said and anything goes. I talked to her just about every day, as did my sisters. I loved it when she came to visit. We’d shop, have dinner out then play games at night. I always waited on her when was here. I figured it was the least I could do.
My mother loved extreme weather shows, TV judges and crime. She never missed Judge Judy. She also liked quiz shows and she and I used to play Jeopardy together on the phone at night. She always had a crossword puzzle book with a pen inside on the table beside her chair, and I used to try to fill in some of the blanks. On the dining room table was often a jig saw puzzle, and we all stopped to add pieces on the way to the kitchen. My mother loved a good time.
She did get feisty, and I remember flying slippers aimed at my head when I was a kid. She expertly used mother’s guilt and, “I’ll do it myself,” was her favorite weapon. We sometimes drove her crazy, and she let us know, none too quietly.We never argued over politics. She kept her opinions close. We sometimes argued over other things, but the arguments never lasted long.
I still think to reach for the phone and call my mother when I see something interesting or have a question I know only she can answer. When I woke up this morning, my first thought was of her, and I cried a little.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Big Boggle, Christmas, games, missing my mother, Mother's Day, rain, Shopping, usic
Comments: 19 Comments
May 7, 2013
Some time during the early morning it must have rained but only a little as the driveway under the tree branches was dry. The rain has left the day cloudy, damp and quite still. Not a single branch, not even the smallest, is moving, and I don’t see or hear any birds.
When I went outside to get the papers, the morning had a sweetness about it. I could smell the garden and the flowers: scents made all the stronger by the dampness.
Gracie just chased Maddie but only because she’s bored. Maddie didn’t seem all that concerned. On days like today, Gracie is in for a while then out for a while; she pulls her toys out of the toy box then leaves them to go outside and bark. I left the front door opened because she loves watching the world through the storm door though my street is so quiet I can’t imagine what holds her interest. I think Gracie’s hoping for the unexpected.
We’re going to get our new dump sticker today and later Peapod will deliver my groceries. Sadly, those are the highlights of my day. Gracie and I must be suffering from the same ennui.
I used to drive my mother crazy at times when I’d complain there was nothing to do. I suspect there was really plenty to do, but I was just in one of those moods when nothing held my interest for too long, a lot like today’s mood, the one Gracie and I seem to be sharing. This morning I did the crossword puzzle but I didn’t do the cryptogram. I just couldn’t get my head to focus long enough to figure it out. That happens every now and then.
I know the sort of day I’ll have. There seems to be a routine for days like today: I’ll read a little, go through some catalogs, watch some programs I’ve DVR’ed and take a nap. I’ll sigh a lot.
Categories: Musings
Tags: boredom, dampness, dump sticker, ennui, Gracie dog, rain, sighs
Comments: 10 Comments
April 20, 2013
My bedroom window was open all night. It was finally warm enough. The room was filled with the smell of nighttime and of cool fresh air. I could hear the birds, and I heard when it started to rain, one of my favorite sounds in the whole world. I heard the drops fall from the roof to the deck, and I thought maybe I heard a rumble of thunder but then again maybe not. There I was comfy in bed, reading my iPad and surrounded by Fern and Gracie, both asleep and both deeply breathing, more sounds I love. I was totally content.
The top of my Cape Times was wet though it was in two plastic bags. The Globe was dry. I took my time reading the papers and drinking my coffee. Days like today invite leisure, a slow savoring of the morning. The rain stopped a short while back. Out my window I can see the pine trees, and I can’t remember the last time their branches were so still. I can hear birds singing and very now and then a bright yellow goldfinch flies by my window. Their color is in such contrast to the gray branches of the pine trees that I can see every one of these small bright birds who are sitting on branches waiting their turns at the feeders.
If I could change my life, I don’t think I would. Well, one thing maybe: a bit more money so I could travel more often. I imagine my doorbell ringing, and, there, standing on the steps, is a burly man dressed in a suit holding his fedora. He introduces himself as Michael Anthony, the executive secretary of John Beresford Tipton, Jr. In his hand is a cashier’s check for one million dollars made out to me, taxes already paid. I sign what we’d now call a non-disclosure agreement and the check is mine. I remember when I was young I’d watch that show, The Millionaire, and dream about what I’d do with the money. I don’t think I understood the magnitude of a million dollars, and I suspect my dreams back then would have been fairly inexpensive to fulfill. I do remember, though, that one of them was to travel around the world. Sometimes dreams stay with us forever.
Categories: Musings
Tags: a million dollars, deeply breathing, Dreams, John Beresford Tipton, Jr, night sounds, rain, reading, stillness, The Millionaire
Comments: 13 Comments
April 13, 2013
Spawns of Satan is already taken so I don’t know what to call the bird that pecks the side of my house and wakes me up. It has found the most inaccessible spot for me to get at it to shoo it away. I’m thinking a hose with the water at its strongest will reach the spot and scare away the bird. I wouldn’t dare try a stone because I’d probably break a window though it isn’t really all that close to the bird’s spot. It’s not a woodpecker, but I think it’s a nuthatch. Whatever it is doesn’t matter. That bird is going down!
It is still a damp day though the rain has stopped. The temperature is supposed to be in the 40’s and by mid-week close to 60˚. I think the sun would help if it would only come out of hiding.
I have to venture onto the deck later to fill the feeders. I watch the birds from the window while I wait for my coffee and have noticed how bright and beautiful the male gold finches are. Today I also had two house finches and a flicker. My stalwart chickadees have returned though they are fewer than usual.
The mornings are alive with the songs of birds. I woke up at one point and couldn’t see the clock but knew it must be close to dawn as I could hear birds welcoming the day. That is one of the best parts of spring: that the days are again filled with sound. Winter tends to blunt them. We all stay warm and secluded in our houses. The decks and yards are empty. We go from the house to the car to the store to the car and then home. Warm spring days, though, call to us to come outside. The sun is inviting. The world is alive again. It’s as if we’re shedding our winter coats and, like bears, leaving our caves. The long hibernation is finally over.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, bird songs, birds, damp, flicker, gold finches, mornings, rain, spring, sun
Comments: 21 Comments
April 11, 2013
The other day Margaret Thatcher died. The Iron Lady is no more. She was, in so many ways, a trailblazers for women. She was the first woman to become prime minister of Britain and the first to lead a major Western power in modern times. She led her Conservative Party to three straight election wins and held office for 11 years — May 1979 to November 1990 — longer than any other British politician in the 20th century. Her obituary says it far better than I could.
“…by the time she left office, the principles known as Thatcherism — the belief that economic freedom and individual liberty are interdependent, that personal responsibility and hard work are the only ways to national prosperity, and that the free-market democracies must stand firm against aggression — had won many disciples. Even some of her strongest critics accorded her a grudging respect. ” Here is her entire obituary.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/09/world/europe/former-prime-minister-margaret-thatcher-of-britain-has-died.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&ref=obituaries
Today is a damp, rainy day perfect for my mood. I’m a bit cranky. The dog and cat had a standoff and the lamp fell and the bulb was a casualty. Naturally I have no extra bulbs. Both of the animals ran in different directions, and I cursed the two of them. The three phone calls I’ve had so far this morning were all medical. My new glasses are in, my prescription is ready and would I like to save money by switching prescription providers. Not a pleasant call in the bunch. My other cat has appeared and so far she has escaped my wrath. I am blaming my back for all of this. I used to be pleasant, the sort that sings and has birds land on her finger to sing along. Okay, I stole that one from Sleeping Beauty. See, the day is so bad I’m even plagiarizing.
I want a season all by itself. I don’t want a winter’s night and a spring day. When the windows are open and fresh air fills the house, I almost can’t get enough of it. Everything the sun touches looks new. On a sunny day Gracie stays out most of the day. Right now she’s sleeping on the couch and snoring.
Yesterday I did errands and today I have more to do. That is so wrong. It ruins my day inside and my day outside pattern. I should not have to get dressed and should be able to sit around and read all day today interrupted only by a nap. See, I warned you I was cranky!
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad back, cranky, Dleeping Beauty, grumpy, Margaret Thatcher, rain, spring or winter?
Comments: 20 Comments
March 28, 2013
The morning is cloudy and was rainy earlier but it was a small rain, droplets. I would moan and groan about the sunless world in which I live except this morning was different. Over the sound of the rain I could hear birds singing. They were greeting the morning, and rain didn’t matter: it was the joy of the morning.
I stood at the kitchen window and watched the flicker pecking at suet in the feeder I bought just for him. A bird I don’t know waited its turn. I’ll look it up later in my bird book. One goldfinch was bright with color, the first to break out of winter drab. I noticed the thistle feeder is empty. I’ve had more goldfinches than ever, sometimes seven or eight at the same time, and thistle is a favorite of theirs. The chickadees are few, and I miss them. They, the titmice and nuthatches are the sunflower seed birds. I have three different feeders for them. The sole woodpecker is either at the suet in the small feeder or tapping a pine tree. The small suet feeder looks like a house. It’s kind of cool and the birds grab on upside down.
I don’t remember people having bird feeders in their yards when I will little. The few times we went to Boston in the warmer weather, I remember feeding the pigeons and the ducks at the Public Garden. I also remember feeding the squirrels. That was before their spawn days. I thought it was really neat to see them so up-close. Pigeons are still fun to watch. Drop a few pieces of bread and they all move to the same spot, pushing and shoving and even taking to the air. They are very noisy birds. I always feel bad about pigeons. They’re nobody’s favorite bird. They have squat bodies and are dull in color. Pigeons seem to hang around in large numbers so the odds of getting bread are slim. I always try to throw some to the back of the pack which then makes all them turn just about at the same time and they all squawk about the inconvenience.
My mother used to get pigeons at her feeders, city birds we’d call them. It frustrated her to no end. She wanted cute little birds like chickadees, but, instead, she’d get sparrows, almost as common as the pigeons. The crows dropped by often because my mother was always throwing out something for them. “Save it for the crows,” she’d tell us. Once she got a seagull. That was a puzzler. She called to have me guess the bird which had visited. I didn’t guess seagull. That’s one bird which has never ever stopped at my feeders. I guess my mother’s was a country cousin of sorts visiting its city cousins. She never saw another seagull in her yard.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, bird songs, chickadees, ducks, goldfinches, pigeons, Public Garden, rain, seagull, sparrows, squirrels, sunless world, thistle
Comments: 25 Comments
March 19, 2013
The snow started last night and left about an inch before it stopped. The rain started early, before I woke up, so now we are a slushy place. I left watery footprints from the house to the driveway and back again when I went to get the newspapers. The birds aren’t even around. They don’t like this weather any more than I do and the filled feeders aren’t at all tempting. I have three quick errands today and have mapped out the shortest route so I can hurry home to warmth and coziness.
My sister got around 10″ of snow, and she is welcome to her winter wonderland. My father would call my snow poor man’s fertilizer. I never knew what he meant then I found out it is a spring snow when the ground is soft. It is good for crops and helps everything turn green. The nutrients and moisture in the snow penetrate into the soil and benefit the plants that will grow later on in the year.
Poor man’s fertilizer got me thinking about sayings and pearls of wisdom I don’t hear any more. I think they’re generational, and many disappear when each generation is replaced by the next. My mother had a whole arsenal of things she’d say to us. We were all pretty much subjected to the underwear accident warning, but there was also the peril of going outside with a wet head because we were bound to catch a cold. A little “birdy” told me drove me crazy. I wanted the source, and I knew it wasn’t any bird. A few times she was talking to brick walls, and she found that annoying. Her next question was,”What are you, deaf?” One of my favorite warnings was,”Don’t touch that. You don’t know where it’s been.” I was a kid. Where it had been was of little consequence. Because she was squeamish we were denied the pleasure of some wonderful find. If I told a lie, my tongue would turn black. I dare not make a face as it might just stay that way, and I was afraid I’d have to wear a hat with a veil the whole of my life. I would never join my friends in jumping off a bridge. I’d have to find one first. My town had no bridges. My favorite, though, was always the,”It’s not what you say. It’s how you say it.” My mother could pick up even the tiniest hint of sarcasm. Though I was too young to know the word sarcasm I knew the tone she meant. I said it on purpose.
I still turn out the lights when I leave a room, and I keep the outside door shut. My mother always reminded us in that voice none of us wanted to hear that we didn’t own the electric company and we didn’t live in a barn.
Categories: Musings
Tags: a little birdy, brick walls, jumping off a bridge, motherisms, mothers, poor man's fertilizer, rain, sarcasm, sayings, slush, Snow, wet hair and a cold
Comments: 46 Comments
March 18, 2013
Monday has always been my least popular day. Because work started again, the horrific sound of the alarm jolted me from bed, disoriented me and made me bemoan my fate of five more days until the weekend. I was always tired on Mondays regardless of how much sleep I got on the weekends. I don’t work now, but I am still not fond of Mondays. The papers are thin. It seems there is never much news on a Sunday to write about on a Monday. I suffer from lethargy, not as severe as on a work day Monday but it’s still a lack of enthusiasm to do anything of substance. I keep staring at the laundry bags sitting in the hall waiting to go downstairs to be washed. This would be the perfect time for laundry elves who would leave my clothes cleaned and folded. I have to fill the bird feeders, a small task grown out of proportion by the day of the week. I’m already tired or maybe I’m just still tired.
It was sunny when I woke up, a strange phenomenon, but the world has righted itself and now it’s cloudy. A rain snow mix is expected tonight. We’ll have mostly rain, less than a half-inch. North of us will have snow.
I could do an errand today, but I won’t. I’m staying home. I’ll get it done tomorrow. Tuesdays are nothing days which have no innate negativity, no descriptions of any sort and no nicknames. Nobody says TGIT and hump day is Wednesday. Tuesday is the forgotten day unless we count monumental events like Black Tuesday or Super Tuesday. I don’t.
Yesterday I watched a baseball game. It was the Sox and the Jays. The Red Sox wore green hats and green shirts for St. Patrick’s Day. Lester pitched six great innings. I was envious of the people in the stands who were dressed in summer clothes. I hoped they were hot and sweaty. I am not above a bit of spite.
My coffee this morning was monkey poop coffee my nephew brought back from Bali.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Clouds, disorientation, elves, Laundry, lethargy, Mondays, rain, Tuesday
Comments: 18 Comments
March 8, 2013
Earliest I sloshed my way to the mailbox and then to the driveway to get the papers. My road is slush covered. Tire marks show the route of my paper delivery, and when I got inside, I could see my footprints. It is lightly snowing, slanted and from the northeast, but I can also hear drips on the deck from the roof. The weather for today is rainy and cold with temperatures in the 30’s. I just hope it stays above freezing. The wind was with us all night but has since pretty much disappeared. On the early news was a house which had fallen into the ocean. I suspect it won’t be the last as the rain pits and wears away the dunes. This is just ugly. The only bright spot is I have heat and electricity.
I stood at the back door while the coffee perked. The storm is a bit mesmerizing with the snow coming across rather than down. The railing on the deck outside the door has an inch or more of what used to be snow and is now slush. That slush is the color of cement and Gracie’s paw prints look permanent as if she walked across the new part of a sidewalk. Lots of birds are hovering around the feeder, the squirrel buster feeder. I filled it the other day so there is plenty of seed. All of the birds are gold finches still clad in their dull winter feathers.
March is a difficult month. It doesn’t know whether it wants to be the first spring month or the last month of winter. Easter is at the end of the month so March best make up its mind. Light dresses and pastels don’t work as well with winter coats.
I know they’ll be snow and frost and windshield scraping. I have lived in New England all of my life and haven’t thought about moving anywhere else. Winter is the price we pay for spring and fall, especially fall. All I ask is a sunny day, a winter’s sunny day is fine with me. I know the winter sun is sharper and colder, but sun is sun, and it makes me glad.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, cold, Easter, flooding, gold finches, March, New England, New Englanders, rain, slush, Snow, spring, sun, Wind, window scraping
Comments: 23 Comments
March 7, 2013
The wind is howling and twisting and turning the pine branches which seem to bend enough to touch the ground. The rain began falling last night, and when I woke up, I could hear it on the roof and windows. As I’m writing, wet snow, slanted by the wind from the north, is beginning to fall, but it hasn’t the look of permanence. The rain will be back, and the wind will howl all day into tomorrow.
The wind is the sort which is the backbone of every tale told by the fire, tales of creatures who roam the night, their sounds muted by the wind. Branches against the windows become scratches made by disfigured hands or even hooks. I remember those stories my father told us. We knew they weren’t real or at least pretended to know, but fear is more easily muted in a warm house with lots of lights and closed doors and my father to protect us.
We did a couple of errands yesterday and today we’ll stay home. It is a day not fit for man nor beast. I had to push Gracie out the door this morning, and the trauma has kept her napping on the couch for hours. Maddie and Fern, neither of whom had any trauma, are also napping. I imagine theirs are gestures of solidarity.
Today is laundry day maybe. I did bring it down from upstairs, but that doesn’t mean anything. The laundry bag can sit against the cellar door for a day or two without me caring. The old me, the before I retired me, would already have had the laundry washed, dried, folded and ready for upstairs. The retired me just dropped it by the door.
The day is ugly. I have no ambition, but I don’t really need any. I have a new book that seems to want my attention. I didn’t make my bed on purpose, not out of laziness but rather because the thought that today, a dark, dismal, rainy day is perfect for a nap in a cozy, warm bed.
Categories: Musings
Tags: errands, fear, howling, Laundry, napping, night creatures, rain, scary stories, Snow, the hook, Wind
Comments: 10 Comments
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