Posted tagged ‘Snow’

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“Nothing irritates me more than chronic laziness in others. Mind you, it’s only mental sloth I object to. Physical sloth can be heavenly.”

January 20, 2012

Last night’s dusting of snow barely covered the backyard. Under the trees had no snow at all. Now it is melting and all I hear are drops from the roof. When I went to get the papers, I saw paw prints on the driveway. I wondered about them. Might the coyote be back or was it Cody, Gracie’s friend, walking to the school bus stop with her family?

The birds are swaying and spinning with the feeders, and they remind me of a carnival ride, the sort which always made me sick. I filled the feeders yesterday in case we get snow tomorrow. I’m not ready for snow, even the paltry 3 to 5 inches predicted. It may turn to rain, and I’m holding on to that. This winter has spoiled me.

I need new slippers. These are too well-worn. My feet get cold unless I wear socks. I remember never being cold. At night I used to put the temperature down to 58° and it was never higher than 66° when I was awake. Partly for the animals and partly for me, the night is now left at 62°. Even then Gracie tries to steal the covers and Fern huddles or sleeps on my hip. I hate that but mostly I’m asleep and don’t notice. My heat is programmed up to 65° at 7 then up to 68° at 8:30. I tend to sleep late so the house is warm when I wake up. Yesterday I had a fire going all afternoon. I sat in the living room with my book and my laptop, but mostly I watched the fire burn. It was mesmerizing. It was also one of the best fires I’ve made. My father would have called it a Hollywood fire, like the ones in the movies, because it burned so evenly and so long. The house smelled wonderful.

I haven’t been out much this week. My house has been the hub of activity though activity may be just a bit too strong a word. I did clean two rooms, change the litter boxes and my bed and folded and brought upstairs the wash that had been in the dryer since last week so maybe activity works even though I usually think whirlwind and activity go together. Maybe I’ve just lowered my expectations. Since folding the wash, I haven’t done anything. I guess I’m considering my current state of sloth a reward for such exertion.

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“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.

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“The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only.”

December 29, 2011

Winter is here today. It’s mighty cold; it’s bundle up to keep warm weather. From my perch inside here at the computer, I can look out the window and see the sunshine, but I know it’s not the sort with any warmth. It brings only light. I can also see the bird feeders. The birds seem to be taking turns. Yesterday it was the goldfinches. Today nuthatches are at one feeder and chickadees at another. Three flickers dropped by the other day and ate the suet which I’ve since replaced, but they haven’t been back yet. The bird bath is frozen. I’m going to have to look again in the cellar to find the heater for it. Every spring I put the heater away, and the next winter I forget where I put it so I buy another one then I find the old one. This year, again, I found none of them. I am really good at putting things away.

I don’t ever remember feeling cold when I was a kid no matter how long I was outside. I wore ski pants, a sweater topped by a jacket, mittens and a hat. If there was snow, I wore heavy socks and shoes stuffed into my boots. One year we had so much snow the plow left six-foot high piles along the sides of the street. That was the year of our snow cave. We used shovels to dig out rooms and water to make the sides of the cave icy and strong. We went from room to room on our knees as the cave was wide, not tall. We even ate our lunches inside the cave. It kept our interest for days. When the weather got warm enough to melt the snow, our ice cave lasted the longest of any of the snow piles along the road. The top melted first so we could see all the rooms then the walls got smaller and smaller and soon enough nothing was left. I think that one was the best snow cave we ever made.

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“With luck, it might even snow for us.”

December 27, 2011

Okay, I finally figured it out. The sun has gone on vacation somewhere warm and left us with gray skies and temperatures in the high 40’s, which really aren’t so bad, but it would nice to see the sun again.

Today I have a couple of errands to do so no lolling around for me. Yesterday I watched a few movies, took a short nap and was totally unproductive.

After Santa’s visit, Christmas vacation was always my least favorite when I was a kid. There was nothing to do unless there was snow or a new bike needing breaking in. It was just too cold to play around outside so mostly we played our new games inside, and I read my Christmas books. If there was snow, we were out all day and only came in when we were totally soaked and our lips had turned blue.

Our street was the best one around for sledding. It was a long hill. In those days, no salt was added to the roads so the hill always had a layer of snow. The first few sledders helped pack down that snow, and soon enough, the hill was perfect for a mouth dropping ride. Our sleds were the wooden ones, and the runners used to get a bit rusty over the summer so the first few runs down the hill had brown blade marks as the rust wore off in the wet snow. At the bottom of the hill was a street so we used try to stop before we’d cross the the street, but if the sledders at the bottom signaled no cars we’d let our sleds zoom across the street to the field. Then it was walk back up the hill holding the icy rope and dragging our sleds behind us. At the top of the hill, we’d hold the sleds on each side, quickly drop them to the ground then jump on them, stomachs down and feet in the air, to ride down the hill. Our feet were the brakes. We’d drag them to slow the sleds down.

Once we’d had our fill of sledding, we’d stick our sleds upright in the pile of snow left beside the front steps from my dad’s shoveling, and we walk around to the back to get into the house through the cellar. Our wet clothes went on the line. I remember my legs were red from the cold and my fingers were always stiff, but that never mattered. It was all about those slides down a really fast hill.

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“Even as an adult I find it difficult to sleep on Christmas Eve. Yuletide excitement is a potent caffeine, no matter your age.”

December 22, 2011

55° on December 22nd just doesn’t seem right. When I went to get the papers, I stood a while outside and took in the morning. We have sun and blue skies for the first time in days, but it all seems wrong. Where’s the snow? I should be seeing my breath and be clad in wool from head to toe. I’m sure it sounds like complaining, and I really don’t want winter as I’m loving this temperature, but it’s Christmas time. It’s sleigh bells ringing and Frosty dancing. It’s even the first day of winter. Mother Nature is behind her time.

Every kid counted down to the big day, Christmas Eve. The lucky ones, like us, had advent calendars which let us know how many days were left without having to ask. I swear that’s why my mother started giving them to us. We just counted the unopened windows and knew how long. Later, when we were older, we did the math. I have to admit that still being in school until the 23rd helped. We were forced to be busy so the days went more quickly. Christmas Eve is the longest day of the year, not the summer solstice. Just ask any kid.

I don’t remember the specifics of most Christmas Eve days except night was a long time in coming. I bet we drove my mother crazy. It was never a day for us to play outside or wander. It was a close to home day. The TV was always on in case there was a Christmas show, just what we needed to heighten the excitement. We wondered what Santa would bring. Would he follow our list or be creative?

We always got a new game or two for Christmas. As long as I can remember, we were a family of game players. Learning to play cards started with war then we worked our way up to more complex games as we got older. My parents, figuring they had built-in partners, taught my brother and me whist. We also played all sorts of board games either sitting on the living room rug or at the kitchen table. Santa always left the games front and center under the tree leaning upright against other toys. They were often the first things we saw. I don’t remember asking for games on my list. They were Santa’s choice, but we never complained.

I still try to give a game at Christmas. It’s one of those traditions meant to be carried on year to year. The one change is we just can’t manage sitting on the rug to play. It’s too hard to get up.

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“And finally Winter, with its bitin’, whinin’ wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.”

December 18, 2011

No question about it. Winter has arrived. Today is the coldest day so far at 30°, and we have snow. When I woke up, only the deck had a dusting, but since then, the snow has started falling more heavily and can no longer be described as flurries. The ground is getting a light covering. The sky is white-gray, and the day has a dismal look about it, but we’re warm and cozy, and that’s all that counts. My tree is lit and looks beautiful shining through the darkness of the day.

If I were a kid, I wouldn’t get my hopes up for a free day tomorrow. The snow won’t accumulate as the size of the flakes is a giveaway to the impermanence of the storm.  When you’re a kid, a snowstorm is a good one only when there is enough for snowmen, sledding, snowball fights and a day off from school.

I always wanted a white Christmas. It seemed to me that Santa’s sleigh would do its best work on snow-covered roofs, and Santa did, after all, live at the North Pole where it was snowy all year-long. It felt wrong to see grass and streets on Christmas Eve.

When I lived in Ghana, there was never hope of snow. The only time it felt chilly was during the harmattan around this time of year. Nights dropped to the 70’s, and the mornings were cold. Sometimes I swear there was even a crispness to the air. My students hated the harmattan. They had to layer to face the cold mornings to finish their chores. Some wore as many as three sweaters.  I loved that sensation of feeling cold and at night I’d snuggle under my wool blanket. In the mornings, I’d sometimes wear a sweatshirt until the sun rose a bit more in the sky. I’d sit on my porch with my giant mug of coffee and watch the small children cut across the school compound to their primary school just outside the front gate. We always said good morning to each other. It was a daily ritual I loved.

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“And finally Winter, with its bitin’, whinin’ wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.”

December 9, 2011

The wind won’t go away. It is even stronger than the last few days, but it’s a bit warmer at 49°. Yesterday I heard someone complaining about the cold. I guess all those November days in the mid-50’s spoiled us, but we’ll survive. We all know about winter in New England.

Today is errand day, and I have a huge list geographically organized. My cards got done last night, according to schedule, so the post office is first on my list. Gracie will be glad as the dump is second.

I remember when I was a kid and the first snow of the season would start to fall. When one of us noticed the flakes, we’d all run to the window and watch. In front of my house, at the bottom of the front grassy hill, was a street light. We’d watch the snow falling in the gleam of the light. I remember the snow sometimes fell sideways because of the wind. If the flakes were really large, we never held out much hope for a lot of snow. If the flakes were smaller, there was always hope. Snow storms were judged on school or no school and whether there was enough for a snowman and a snowball fight.

When I woke up, I’d run to the window to see how much snow had fallen. If there was enough for a no school day, the fire horn would blow early in the morning. If there wasn’t enough, it meant wearing boots which took forever to get on and off at school. Sometimes my shoe would be caught by the boot, and I’d try to shake it loose. I always thought it was funny to walk with the boot hanging and my foot still in the shoe. I felt a bit like a duck must feel with its webbed feet. The key, we all learned when we were a little older, was to take out your foot then pull out your shoes and then do the reverse in the afternoon. It was a bit harder getting our feet into the shoes already in the boots, but it was far easier than trying to shove the foot filled shoe into the rubber boot which never seemed to dry during the school day.

I remember the days which had snow on the ground were the brightest of all winter days. When the snow was high and there were no footprints yet, everything was beautiful, and the snowflakes shined and glimmered like diamonds in the sun. It always warmer on those days.

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“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

October 10, 2011

This has been the most leisurely of all mornings. I woke up late, read every bit of both papers, had three cups of coffee perfectly brewed to my taste (I’m a does the amount look right coffee grounds sort when loading) and spent some time outside in the sun. When I came back inside so did Gracie, and right now all the animals are napping in here as I write. The dog gets the couch; Fern is on the new chair while Maddie has the cushion at the back of the couch near the window. It is a remarkable day, a beautiful day, a bit of magic pulled out of her hat by Mother Nature.

My sister in Colorado had her first snow of the season last week. She had to clear off her car before she could go to work. I tried but couldn’t conjure an image of the snow and her car. My mind is still filled with sun and flowers. My garden now has its fall bloomers adding color and beauty to my little world. I love to stand there and look and marvel.

The wedding was wonderful. I knew there would be some quirky surprises because Bethany and Brian love fun and laughter. It started with the place card settings which were odd as they were oblong plastic frames, but there was an explanation. The frames were to hold a picture. Bethany and Brian had a photo booth placed in the hall next to where we had dinner. It was similar to the kind you used to find at bus or train stations where you put in a quarter and got a strip of  black and white pictures. My friends and I always crammed ourselves into a booth and made funny faces at the camera. Outside this booth were boxes holding props like sombreros and clown hats. I chose a plastic fireman’s hat and the sombrero. When I went inside the booth, I wore hat after hat until all the shots were taken. When I got outside the booth, I was handed a strip of four color shots of me which fit perfectly in the place card frame. The last shot was me making a funny face, sort of a homage to the old days. The booth man explained that Bethany and Brian would get a copy of every strip as momentos of their wedding and the strangeness of their guests. When the reception was over and the couple was leaving, we all stood outside with sparklers lighting the night giving Bethany and Brian a bit of magic to take with them. It was a wonderful evening filled with fun, laughter and good friends.

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“What he had not learned, however, was this: to find contentment in himself and his own life”

March 24, 2011

All my optimism of yesterday is buried under a couple of inches of snow. I also noticed the bird feeders are empty again so I’ll trudge through the snow on the deck to fill them after I finish here. The snow showers have started again. First there were a few wispy flakes, but now the flakes are larger and falling faster as if they have illusions of grandeur. I don’t want to go anywhere. I figure I’ll shower, put on my cozies and read. I’m thinking an afghan on the couch.

I’m typing and reading out loud as I type. It is my way of hearing the words and proof reading as I go along. Gracie, asleep on the chair, sighs loudly every now and then. I figure she is dreaming of the day she can lie on the grass in the backyard and be warmed by the sun. The cats are upstairs under the bed near the heater. None of us seem to have much energy. Some days are like that.

I just can’t seem to pull my eyes away from the window. Begrudgingly I have to admit the falling snow is pretty. It is not supposed to amount to much, but this is March and this is Cape Cod and when it comes to spring weather, there are no guarantees.

The day is dark, and the light in here is on. In the living room, small electric candles are lit, and in the basket by the fireplace the gourd lights shine through and there are shadows on the wall. The snow is heavier now than earlier. When I started writing, I was feeling a bit bored and a little lonely. Now, I feel a sort of contentment: happy to be home, happy to be warm and looking forward to being lost in a book. Some days just surprise me.

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“Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment.”

March 23, 2011

The sky is white gray, and it’s cold outside. The paper said snow this evening and tomorrow, not much accumulation, but the mere thought of any bit of snow in late March is just beyond the pale. My father always said snow this time of year is poor man’s fertilizer, and that is about as optimistic as I can be with the weather prediction.

My back is hurting so today is a lazy day. My only chores are paying a few bills, watering the plants and refilling the feeders. I miss seeing my birds.

March always seemed the longest month to me even when I was a kid, and it feels the same to me still. We had only one day off from school, St. Patrick’s day, and no special events broke up the rest of the month. Most times the weather kept us inside after school, and I’d spend the time reading or we’d play games at the kitchen table until dinner. Only the Saturday matinee and church on Sunday broke up the week.

April has a magic about it. The air smells sweet, and the grass is a brighter green and soft to the touch. The garden is finally awake, flowers are blooming and the sun seems to shine every day. All of a sudden we too are bright with color. Pastels take over from the winter grays and dark blues and our ears feel the breeze and our hands stay warm even without gloves. Only at night does it feel chilly again, but by then we are warm and cozy inside the house tired from a day of school and from playing all afternoon.

I’m counting the days until April and eagerly awaiting that first warm day when I can sit on the deck, smell the sweetness of the air and close my eyes to listen to the sounds of spring.

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