Posted tagged ‘winter’

“Why, what’s the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?”

February 2, 2011

Today is the ugliest of days. It has been raining since the early morning hours. Everything is flooded because the water has nowhere to go. My pebbled walkway is a giant puddle. The few inches of snow we had the other day have turned to slush. Even the road is slush rutted. We have fog and a heavy wind. It is 44° out, but it is a warmth we can’t appreciate. When I look out my window, I can see the trees, even the largest oaks, being blown back and forth by the wind. The rain is pelting the windows. Every now and then I hear a bang as snow from the roof falls to the ground. Gracie just looks up each time recognizing it is no intruder then goes back to sleep.

The other day I bought flowers: pink, yellow and red flowers. I wanted dafs but the woman said it is too early, maybe a couple of weeks early. Other people in line also had flowers. It seems we  need a touch of color, a bit of spring.

When I was a kid, I lived my life day by day. Spring would never come to mind in the middle of winter. I just dealt with winter. For walking to school on a really cold day, I layered and walked briskly. I never complained about the weather though I did wish for a snow day as soon as the first flakes fell. The present had all my interest, except for the Christmas countdown and my birthday but they were the only exceptions. Monday led into Tuesday and that was about as far as I went. Life was easier, worry free and self-indulgent.

I don’t remember when I started to long for spring in the middle of winter. I’m thinking the older I got, the less I abided, and it continues that way.

“He’s a gentleman: look at his boots.”

January 28, 2011

Most times I am a quick study and learn easily. Yesterday I overdid and last night I woke up every hour or so in pain, and it’s still here this morning. I guess I keep trying to find the line between okay and ridiculous. Obviously I went over that line yesterday. I do have an addendum about yesterday and locked doors. My plowman was here when I left for an appointment. I told him the de-ice stuff for the steps was inside the house by the door as was his check. He was fine with that and I left. When I got home, I was locked out again. My plowman had noticed my storm door was ajar and he’s a good guy so he closed it. I called my friend Tony and told him he’d need a step ladder. I’m thinking of putting a stepladder permanently against the back porch. In the summer I’ll put plants on it so people will think it a gardening design. How pretty to see the morning glory vines climbing the ladder.

Today is a white day. The sky is white. The trees have a layer of white from the wet snow, and the ground is covered. The sun came out yesterday and melted some of the snow. Last night it froze. Ruts of ice are on the sides of the road and on the pathways. Going out makes for a strange sort of dance of stepping in one place then moving to the side then across and back all with tiny steps which remind me of the Mikado.

I seldom stayed home from school. We, my brother and sisters and I, were all pretty much a healthy bunch. We walked to school on the coldest or the wettest or the snowiest day of the year. It didn’t matter.

This time of year presented to every kid the greatest of all challenges: putting on and taking off boots. Back then they were rubber and they went over our shoes. In the morning, at home, my mother would hold the boots while we pushed and pushed until our shoes were all the way inside then she’d tuck our snow pants into the top of the boot. When we got to school, we’d sit on the floor to pull off our boots. Usually our shoes came with them, but that was just fine. We’d pull out our shoes, put them on and go into the classroom. All of that was the easy part. It was getting dressed to go home which presented the biggest challenge. If the boots were wet, the shoes just wouldn’t go inside all the way, and the bottom part of the boot would flop around. Pushing the shoes in with my hands sometimes worked, sometimes didn’t. Lots of days I’d walk home in my shoes, the boots in my school bag. My mother was never happy when I came home with wet shoes, wet socks and cold feet. Neither was I.

“There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.”

January 7, 2011

The sun is a blur behind light gray clouds. It gives the day some light but provides no heat and only accentuates the bare branches of the tall oak tree behind my deck. I need to go out later, and I’m dreading the cold. Even in the house I’m layered.

The bird feeders are empty, and I miss my birds.  Since my surgery, I haven’t been as faithful in filling them but that ends today. I’ll go out as soon as I finish here as a bit of snow is coming, and I’ll feel guilty if I  see birds checking empty feeders.

My life has had a different symmetry since the surgery. I seldom picked up a book to read; every night I woke up several times because of the pain, and I didn’t go out unless someone drove me. That has begun to change. I finished a book yesterday, drove my car and was up at 9 yesterday having slept through the night. Slowly my life is returning to normal.

When I was a kid, I recognized it when I got taller. I used to compare my height to my mother’s and couldn’t wait until I was taller than she was. It was like a kid’s one-upmanship. It didn’t change the hierarchy, but I felt a bit superior anyway. The first change of any consequence was puberty. It wasn’t my favorite. All of a sudden my childhood was vanishing.

When it finally disappeared, I didn’t notice.

“Summer has set in with its usual severity.”

July 6, 2010

Hot doesn’t quite describe the weather. Both papers this morning were filled with pictures of people in fountains, at Frog Pond or by the shore. Boston will be in the 90’s-we’ll hit the 80’s. The rest of the week looks the same.

Winter has an intimacy summer lacks. In winter, we sit behind closed windows and doors in our private little worlds and try to stay warm and cozy. In summer, privacy disappears. All those windows and doors are left open so we can catch the slightest breeze. Yesterday I heard a neighbor sneeze twice.

When I was a kid lying in bed and trying to fall asleep, I could hear the TV downstairs and the one next door. I heard neighbors argue in raised voices and mothers yell at kids to settle down and go to sleep. The clink of glasses and the murmur of several voices meant a party. We knew most things about each other, but it never really mattered. Nobody mentioned them. We were friends and we were neighbors.

I know everyone on my street, but we are not close. My friends are at the end of the street and in between are the neighbors with whom I chat. We bemoan the heat, compliment each others’ gardens and wonder when it will rain. I can hear them through open windows, and I suspect they can hear me. Bob’s booming laugh from the house at the end of the street is easily identified. My other neighbors are Brazilian, and they speak to each other in Portuguese. Their kids answer in English. I can hear little boys screaming from two different houses. I wish I couldn’t. Dogs bark all the time. Across the street, Herb and Joanne keep all their doors and windows closed all summer. Joanne says it keeps out the heat of the sun. I think it makes them feel safe.

My favorite time is late at night. It is only then that the houses are quiet. The night birds and the peepers from the pond make the only sounds. I sit in the dark, listen to the birds and watch the fireflies. I don’t make a sound. I don’t want to intrude.