Posted tagged ‘winter uniform’

But you can’t plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through the woods, hooted to frighten you, swept everything away for the approaching winter, whirled the leaves.

November 2, 2015

Skip, my factotum, is here, and the deck furniture and decorations are disappearing, some being covered and others being stored in plastic bins. I was outside for a while just chatting but I got chilly so I came inside. Skip doesn’t need any instructions from me. He does this every year. For him it’s a job, but for me it is the sad ending of movie nights, barbecues, sitting by myself under the stars watching fireflies flit through the backyard and listening to cicadas which always remind me of maracas.

The sun taunted us a bit earlier. It came and went quickly. It’s getting chillier and the sky is cloudy. The breeze comes and goes. Right now everything is still, not even a leaf is moving. I think I’ll read today. I’m thinking cozy under the covers. If I nap, it’s all good.

I’m wearing what I think of as my winter uniform: flannel pants, socks and slippers and a sweatshirt with a pouch to keep my hands warm. When I was a kid, I had pairs of flannel pajamas. When I got home from school and wasn’t going out, I’d change into pajamas because they were comfy and warm. I always wore slipper socks. They and the pajamas were traditional Christmas gifts. My pajamas had snowmen or elves, Christmas trees or even Santa on them. My slippers were usually red. They had a sort of knitted top and leather soles. I liked the scuffing sounds the soles made on the wooden floor. My mother didn’t.

My mother wore slippers, sort of slippers. The toes were open, and they had no backs. I always thought they were useless because to me slippers are meant to keep your feet warm, but my mother said her feet never got cold. The rest of her did as she always had the thermostat up high. We’d complain. She’d get feisty.

I know why the heat was up so high. I’ve learned the older I get the less tolerant I am of cold. My mother’s house would be perfect now.

“I see great things in baseball.”

February 19, 2015

The sun has appeared. The ice and snow are actually melting. How lucky for us it will get cold again tonight and all that water will freeze. We are on a treadmill. Last night there were flurries. Tomorrow night will be the coldest night yet. If I go to a dictionary to look up winter, I’m going to see a picture of the pile of snow at the corner of my street, the icicles on my house and my car stuck trying to get up the hill. Winter has been redefined this year.

Gracie and I are going out later. I need cream for my coffee and cat food. I also need food for my soul. I’m thinking of my favorite sandwich and a whoopie pie. We are going to the dump first as we never made it last week with all the snow. Gracie will be glad. Me, not so much.

I seem to be talking to myself a whole lot more since my involuntary hibernation, but I am not yet hearing responses. I figure if I do, I’m probably too far along the crazy spectrum to find it peculiar. I might even enjoy it.

My inside winter uniform never changes style. I wear socks, slippers (alternating between my two pairs), a t-shirt with a sweatshirt over it and kick around the house pants, mostly flannel. I am not dressed for company, but I don’t worry as I don’t expect any. I am wearing my Red Sox sweatshirt, the most hopeful sweatshirt I own. It speaks of spring and summer, a reminder that someday Fenway will be clear of snow, hawkers will be selling Fenway franks, and we’ll be hearing the crack of the bat hitting the ball and maybe, just maybe, watching the ball sail over the Green Monster.

“Hope is the thing with feathers-That perches in the soul..” I always think Emily Dickinson is right and her description perfect.