Posted tagged ‘Snow’

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“That takes the cake”

March 22, 2011

My jubilant thoughts of spring have had to be modified just a bit. Yesterday it snowed. The flakes started as tiny aren’t they cute (facetiously said) then became thick wet flakes which left the grass with a white covering which quickly disappeared. It was cold. Today the sky has a glimmer of blue, and the sun is fighting its way out of the clouds. The paper says the 40’s for today and much the same the rest of the week.

My car is getting a new tire so I am housebound. It seems we both, the tire and I, picked up some screws. I got a chuckle out of that.

The house is just so quiet. The animals are having their morning naps, no cars have driven down the street and the wind of the last few days has finally stopped.

My sister went grocery shopping for me before she left. I had her buy Rice Krispies which I haven’t bought in years. All of a sudden I had a craving for cereal and snap, crackle and pop is my favorite. I also had her buy whole milk. The watery stuff just wouldn’t do. I remember the top of the milk under the cardboard tab always had a layer of cream when I was a kid. Licking the tab was almost as tasty as licking the beaters after my mother had made a cake and then whipped the frosting. Her mixer was one of those Sunbeam stand alone ones, and she kept it on the counter. When we cleaned out her house, we found it in the cellar cabinets. It hadn’t worked in years, but she didn’t part with it.

My father had bought it with some bonus points from work, and I remember the first time my mother used it. We all leaned on the counter over the bowl and watched as the beaters turned and mixed the ingredients. Even to my mother it seemed like a miracle. When the batter was ready for the cake pan, she emptied the bowl and gave us the beaters. Our tongues got the outside then reached into the middle to get the rest of the batter. We didn’t care that our faces were covered in batter. We had found a brand new treat we could fight over-four kids into two beaters!

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“Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism.”

February 21, 2011

The snow is gently falling in tiny flakes. It’s leaving a coating on the lawns but not the roads. I think it’s pretty. Today is cold but without a wind it seems warmer. Finches have taken over my feeders. Most are goldfinches, but I did see a house finch. A nuthatch flew in quickly, grabbed a seed and settled on a branch to enjoy it. I haven’t seen a chickadee in a while. They used to be my most frequent visitors, and I miss them. The suet feeder is empty. I’ll have to brave the elements later and fill it. I have a couple of woodpeckers who drop by all the time to dine at that feeder.

Today is called Presidents’ Day. It didn’t exist when I was young. We observed Washington’s birthday, February 22nd, as a holiday and always had it off from school because it usually fell during our February vacation. Lincoln’s birthday was February 12th, and we had that off from school too. Later, the powers that be tinkered with the birthdays and decided a Monday holiday combining both was the best idea so today unofficially celebrates Lincoln and Washington. There is no official federal holiday called Presidents’ Day. The federal government celebrates today as Washington’s Birthday and that’s it, nothing else. The other presidents were tossed by the wayside.

I’m okay with recognizing Washington. He was, after all, the first president, and there are some great myths associated with him like his wooden teeth and the chopping of the cherry tree. I went looking and found some facts I didn’t know about Washington. He was the only Founding Father to free his slaves; he is credited with introducing the mule to America; his second inaugural address was the shortest ever given, and he grew marijuana on his farm, never smoked it though, didn’t even inhale. He used it for hemp.

I figure lots of presidents belong by the wayside and ought not to be celebrated so, like the federal government, I’m sticking with Washington.

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“And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of that country know them to be sharp and violent, and subject to cruel and fierce storms . . .”

February 8, 2011

Slush covers the streets and sidewalks. It’s a dreary, cold day, but I have a smile. Yup, the shoots of the daffodils are up in my garden and so are shoots from the bulbs I planted last year. I don’t what bulb went where or how many were left after the squirrels dined, but bulbs are definitely appearing all over my garden. That smile stayed while reading the paper. The Red Sox equipment trucks left Boston today for Florida. Spring training is getting close. Did you notice that adjective? I said spring.

We New Englanders chose to live here and take pride in being hearty folk, especially during the winter. We chuckle a bit when folks living in the warmer states complain about the cold when the weather is in the 50’s, balmy for us this time of year. Well, I admit it. I have a winter complaint, but it isn’t about the cold. I am getting sick and tired of snow, sleet, rain and slush. Every step I take outside is done gingerly as ice is everywhere. My feet are constantly wet. Why don’t I wear boots? I have no answer to that except to say I haven’t worn boots in years. I don’t even know anyone who does except little kids. My plow guy wears sneakers when he shovels my walk. Right now it’s raining and later that rain will turn to ice when the temperature drops tonight. Tomorrow it will all melt, but tomorrow night it will freeze again. I feel like a hamster on a wheel.

I have some must do errands today so Gracie and I will be off as soon as I finish here. I’ll wear a sweatshirt, as it is 37°, well above freezing, and I’ll wear shoes and skirt whatever puddles I can (I bet you thought for a moment there I was going to wear a skirt ).

It’s not going to rain or snow for the next three days, but the high will only be 32°, the low 15°. It is, after all, winter in New England.

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I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.

February 3, 2011

It is later than I hoped, but I had to make the same trip twice but in reverse. After I left the dentist, I went and bought some biscotti and a lemon loaf cake then went to another store for Gracie food. While I was there, my spankin’ new temporary crown came loose. Home I went and called the dentist who was unavailable for fifteen minutes so I decided to have coffee and an anise biscotti. When I looked in the bag from the bakery, my lemon cake wasn’t there. The dentist called and said, “Come right over,” and I did, sort of, as I stopped and got my lemon cake. My temporary crown doesn’t move a bit. I didn’t ask what they used. I was imagining Gorilla glue.

I was driving a lot today, and I loved my ride. On the way home, the second time, I took the highway and all around me was the beauty even a winter’s day can have. I was completely surprised. My view of winter has been a small one, out the window here by the desk. On the highway it was a vista. I could see far in front of me. The sky was bright with all sorts of different grays. A snow shower with its tiny flakes was spun by the wind. The bare branches on the trees along the side of the road were silhouettes. I was driving slowly, unusual for me, as I wanted the scene to stay with me as long as possible. I still don’t like winter, and I’ve had enough snow, but today gave me a whole new appreciation of winter. In its starkness there is a beauty.  Maybe that will help hold me until spring, but then again, so will the flowers I bought the other day.

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“February is merely as long as is needed to pass the time until March.”

February 1, 2011

I woke up this morning at 8 with the intention of going back to bed after a bathroom trip then I looked outside. It was snowing. I remembered I hadn’t filled the feeders so I put on shoes and a sweatshirt, filled a bag with sunflower seeds and went outside. After filling two of the feeders my hands were really cold so I kept putting one in the sweatshirt pouch then switching hands. I can’t wear mittens and do the feeders so I have to bear it and move fast.

I’m been back inside a while. I have a cup of coffee and I’m warm. Five feeders are now ready for the birds. A squirrel amused me this earlier. He was trying to get at the suet which is in a squirrel proof feeder. He moved all around it, reaching and trying to grab the suet. He next tried to chew the wire holding the feeder to the hook. That idea didn’t last long. He went round and round a few more times then gave up and jumped to a branch. I applauded.

When I was working, snow days were the most fun. They were a surprise and a gift. Today feels like that. After the bird feeders, my morning was leisurely. I brewed coffee and read the two newspapers. I turned on the TV which I never do so here I am watching CSI solve yet another murder. Lunch will be crackers with a three pepper dip. I’ll take a nap later. The light is on in here, and I see shadows on the walls. In the living room, the window lights and a lit gourd barely light  the room but it’s just enough to give the room a cozy air. I keep looking out the window and watching the snow. It has gone from small flakes to large flakes and now sleet seems to be mixed with the snow. The birds are huddled somewhere warm. The feeders will wait.

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“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”

January 26, 2011

Batten down the hatches. Snow is coming. It will start this afternoon and continue into tomorrow. We here on the Cape might not get as many inches as it could mix with rain. I have a few things to do before the snow comes. The bird feeders need filling. I’m out of bread and coke so a quick stop at the grocery store is in order, and my trunk is filled for a dump run. Sadly, today looks just like yesterday, gray and bleak. Winter is tiresome and snow has lost its wonder.

I remember when every snowstorm was a gift. Sometimes we got a day off, and that was the best of all because we got to spend the day sledding, and nothing was more fun than sledding. We all had wooden sleds, and the first few runs down the hill left red trails as the snow cleared the rust of summer. At the top of the hill, we’d grab our sleds and run as fast as we could then we’d jump on our sleds. Legs below the knees were in the air so they wouldn’t hamper our speed but they were the best brakes. The snow crunched as the blades ran through it. We’d hold on to the front of the sleds so we could steer. It was always a race to the bottom and to whose sled went the farthest. My sled had a rope attached so I could pull it back up the hill. I remember the rope used to freeze. My friends and I would walk together and talk mostly about the snow and our sleds. The hill was a street, and it was huge and long. Snow plows back then always seemed to leave enough snow for sleds. We’d spend the entire day speeding down the hill then walking back up. Sheer exhaustion finally sent us inside. The sleds were left standing straight up in a pile of snow.

Nothing beat the joy of flying down that hill.

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“Being is like pretending.”

January 25, 2011

I apologize for missing yesterday, but I had an appointment, needed to do a bit of shopping, and when I got home, I finished some stuff around the house, like changing the cat litter. By the time I was done, my leg was pretty painful and I just wanted to take something, lie down with the offensive limb under the covers and have a nap. It helped.

This morning we have snow showers, but they’re not amounting to much, probably just a dusting. It is still cold, but not the single digits it has been. 33° feels like a heatwave. The clouds are a light gray, and from my window that’s what the whole world looks like. It is really quiet. My typing is the only sound in the house, and I hear nothing from outside: not a car and not a dog barking. My list of plans for today is short. I have one chore, watering the plants, and the rest of the day I’ll just relax and read. I could blame my idleness on my leg, but I don’t have to. I can do anything I want.

I forget how old I was when I stopped pretending. Maybe I was a teenager more mindful of boys and clothes and the future. That seems about the right time. I wasn’t a cowgirl any more or a knight or an explorer. I was me.

I have spent a long time learning about me. I came to realize early on that all that pretending was helping me become whatever I wanted. Nobody told a cowgirl she couldn’t ride the range. An explorer is meant to see the world. A knight is honorable and rights wrongs. Who could aspire for more?

I’m still learning.

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“January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.”

January 21, 2011

Early this morning, three or four o’clock early, I could hear the rain falling on the roof.  I don’t know when it stopped, but it left a damp, gray day. Off-cape snow is falling, and the world has paused for a bit. No cars are on the road and many stores are closed. Here, life just goes on the same as it does every Friday.

Let’s just call this paragraph an amendment. Snow has started falling. The flakes are huge and being blown all over by the wind. I didn’t get to my feeders yesterday so I have to brave the snow and cold today. My birds will be disappointed if there is no seed.

We used to stick our tongues out to catch snowflakes. We’d also grab some snow with our mittens and lick it as if it were ice cream. A snow storm back then was never an inconvenience. It was an opportunity. It was a get the sleds out or make a snow fort day. Snowball fights decided who kept the hill. The winners usually overran the losers and pelted them with an arsenal of snowballs. A little extra money could always be gotten by shoveling out a house. The trick was to wait a bit and then ask at the houses still not shoveled. Most times old ladies came to the door. We’d dicker the price then I’d shovel the steps and the walkway. By the time I got home, I was frozen and covered in snow, but I was also rich by a few dollars.

I don’t shovel. I’m now one of those proverbial old ladies. Skip, my factotum, plows my driveway and shovels the walkway and the mailbox. I don’t even own a shovel any more. The last time we had snow it was a dusting, and I used my broom to clear the walkway. The two, the dusting and the broom, were perfect together.

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“Don’t knock the weather; nine-tenths of the people couldn’t start a conversation if it didn’t change once in a while.”

January 20, 2011

Okay, I’ve had enough. Snow is coming tomorrow, the sort you have to shovel, while from Sunday through Wednesday snow showers are predicted. I thought that strange. I always think rain when I hear showers. I wonder what happened to snow flurries? Anyway, it’s cold and it’s going to get colder. The high on Sunday will be 18° and on Monday 17°. The low on Sunday will be 4°. That is not a typo.

It amazes me that when I was a little kid I walked to and from school in all sorts of weather. Single digit temperatures just meant bundling more. Sometimes we’d even walk backwards because the wind was so cold it numbed our faces. Getting to school was a relief.

As a kid, I loved sleeping in a cold house. I’d snuggle under all the blankets to stay warm. The problem was my nose. It was always cold. Sleeping with it under the blankets just didn’t work. I felt smothered. I’d rub it with my hand to try and get it warm, but that never lasted too long. It was my destiny to have a cold nose every winter night.

Even now I love sleeping in a cold house, but the problem is still my nose. It’s always cold. Gracie’s ears meet the same fate as my nose. They are always cold. I guess I should be glad to have company in my misery.

When I was in Ghana, I wanted winter and snow, and I wanted to be cold. It was hot every day, stifling sometimes. I’d shower at night, a cold shower as I had no hot water, and not dry off. After my shower, I’d run to the house, jump into bed and let the air cool me so I could fall asleep.

I figure we all want to be somewhere else when it’s too hot or too cold. I also figure the weather gives us something to gripe and complain about. Stand in line at the grocery store and listen to the conversations. Most times people are talking about the weather. Today, with snow predicted tomorrow, the grocery stores will be filled and the bread and milk will disappear.

The cold weather lets us recognize that there are some things we all have in common. That, I suspect, is its greatest attribute.

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“In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.”

January 12, 2011

Mind you, I’m not complaining, but the snow storm just nicked us on its way inland. It was even raining when I woke up, and my street was covered in slush and had two ruts running down it where some brave soul had driven his car. Right now we have a sprinkling of snow falling, and the sun has appeared a couple of times from behind the cloud where it has been hiding, but I doubt it will stay long. It’s really cold and a wind is blowing the branches and dead leaves. The birds are in abundance at the feeders. Goldfinches outnumber my faithful chickadees. They perch at the feeder and sway with the wind. The rain has pockmarked the snow leftover from the last storm. Today is winter at its ugliest.

Last night, most schools had already chosen to close today, and their names scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. I used to love snow days, especially when I was a teacher. It always seemed a gift even though I knew I’d have to give it back in June. It was a day I could do anything I wanted. I’d stay in my comfy clothes, read, take a nap and eat junk food. Nothing enticed me to leave the warmth of hearth and home.

In Sunday’s crossword in the Boston Globe, one of the clues was a Bobbsey Twin. It was only three letters so I knew right away the answer was Nan, twin to Bert, but I wondered how many solvers had to work around it to fill in the answer. The Bobbsey Twins were a favorite read of mine when I was young. Freddie and Flossie, the other set of twins, were too young for me, but I easily identified with Nan.

You can still find The Bobbsey Twins. Amazon sells them, but they, like Nancy Drew, have been sanitized and modernized. The pony cart, which I envied, disappeared and was replaced by a car. Language was changed to reflect more of a frame of reference for today’s kids. The difficult to read and understand language spoken by Dinah, the cook, and Sam, her husband and the Bobbsey’s handy man, underwent the most changes, and I’m really sorry about that. Their language, rich in metaphors and colloquialisms, has become flat, the same as every other character in the book. They have lost their individuality.

I went through a few of my Bobbsey Twin books and found some Dinah speak. Maybe today’s kids would have trouble deciphering what she is saying, but I don’t remember ever having any problems understanding her. Maybe her language was too ethnic so it had to be rewritten to reflect today’s social standards. The Dinah and Sam I knew and loved are gone.

A sanitized version of Huck Finn will be released next month.

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