Well, Blow Me Down!

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

Christina Rossetti

Should the wind ever stop blowing, it will be a miracle along the lines of loaves and fishes. However, until then, we are learning to tie on our hats, securely close the outer doors, and leave nothing outside that we don't want to fetch.

Probably the most poignant thing is watching the birds struggle to get to the feeders. We are under siege from blue jays, cardinals, phoebes, house wrens, and chicadees. They struggle to reach the feeder and then to hold on before being swept off by the wind. Finally, they give up and go to the snow to collect a little dinner before flying off to shelter.

Even the cats are disinterested in hunting right now. They are staying balled up on the porch, following the sun as it travels from the front porch to the side before slipping behind the mountain. Tiggie, the 19-year-old cat, has discovered that she can fit just in the crook of Annabelle's (the Pyrennes) tummy and legs if she wiggles down just right. I wish I could catch a quick shot of them sleeping, but they leap up, almost ashamed of being a peaceable kingdom of dog and cat sharing body heat. They adamantly refuse to come indoors, preferring the porch or the shed to the over heated kitchen.

Today at work, after a week off because of extreme weather, my office mates and I agreed to change our door art to spring time wreaths. Holding hope in the sympathetic magic of like drawing like, flowers, birds, and butterflies now fill our office doors. If nothing else, we have brought spring indoors and have planted a little seed of hope for warmer days. Or, we have confirmed that humanities faculty are indeed a little off plumb. Your choice.

In the meantime, I tie on my boggin, layer long johns, sweat pants, insulated bibs, long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, insulated jacket and gloves, go out to the barn with the goats and sit in the sun which surfs between the clouds. And I dream of bees making cleansing flights and honey.

Added at 6:39 p.m.: I know why I have been cross about all the snow. My feet have been really cold. Ends up one pair of boots had a hole in 'em I didn't notice until my feet were noticably wet. So, I put on a pair of my son's (with thinsulate and two pairs of socks). Warm! I love winter and snow again!

Three-Year-Old Wisdom

Joshua looked out the window this morning and turned to his Mother and announced: "Look Momma! It is a window wonderland!"

Ah, to see this snow as a three-year-old!

Stay warm!

Yum!

When I was a wee thing, every time it snowed Mother or Grandmother would make snow cream. There were serious rules to making snow cream. Now everybody knows you never eat the first snow; it cleans the atmosphere. And, you can't eat snow when it first falls because it finishes the cleansing process. At least that is what Grandmother said and I believe her. Since we had such a lovely snow today, last measure was about 12", after feeding the critters, we decided we had earned a delicious treat.

Taking my largest Revere Ware pot and a small pot for scooping, I waded out into a portion of the yard that was untouched by bird, dog or cat, scraped off the top layer of snow in a 3' x3' square and scooped out the center layers of the clean snow. So the middle layer of a 12-hour snow was ideal for our cream.

Grabbing Grandmother's brown lipped bowl, I measured 1/2 cup of sugar, 1/2 c. heavy cream, and 1/2 c milk along with 1 teaspoonful of vanilla. I stirred until it was well mixed, took my snow from the refrigerator and started to slowly add it whilst stirring the mixture until smooth. The smell of vanilla made it challenging to stir the cream until it was done. Just one fingertip full was all I wanted, but I held out until the cream was done. When I was satisfied with the consistency, I heaped some into the brown soup bowls from Grandmother and sprinkled the whole top with Andes pieces.

Oh my goodness! Can you say: tastes like another?

Even I Am Tired of IT

Snow.

Again.

Measurable amounts.

Up to three inches on top of the ice and snow we already have on the ground from THREE WEEKS AGO.

This makes our third week that temperatures haven't gotten above freezing. While I adore winter -- heck, I have three totes of handknits that I can't wait to wear each year --- it has grown tedious.

It can quit now.

The chickens can't get out of their house; Miss Turkey is tired of snow; the ducks have worn a path around the duck house. The goats, well, even they are cross.

I keep trying to remind myself:

For lo, the winter is past; the rains are over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth.

Hold that thought, won't you? I have to grab another pair of socks. Brrr....

No one told me

When I became a Mum, no one told me that I would be one FOREVER!!! Yes, yes, I knew that I would be a "mum" forever. What I didn't know was that I would worry forever!

My son is 27; he is in leaving for Air Force explosive devise training in February. He has lived away from home for eight years, until the past six months while waiting to leave for Texas. He is a free man. He is an adult. He is going to dismantle bombs, for goodness sake.

So, why is it that when he got in my ancient truck (it is older than he by almost ten years!) and took off to spend the weekend with a buddy 50 miles away that I got nearly sick? Could it be that we are forecasted to have between one and two feet of snow??

My son was hard to come by. I was nearly 28 when he was born and he is the only baby I carried to term. He was a very sickly little boy and had gamma globulin shots twice a week for the first two years of his life. During the first six months of his life, he had the diagnosis of cystic fibrous, but it ended up that he had terrible food allergies. The pediatrician had him nurse until he was nearly three; I thought I was always going to have an appendage. Then, amazingly, he outgrew all of it and flourished. He has been sick twice since he was three. He has only had one accident involving an emergency room visit. In short, he is blessed and so am I.

He is smart enough to know to stay in. He will. I imagine he will shoot pool, lift weights, cook, and drink beer. These are his favorite things, next to chasing women. He is 27 and these are things that 27-year-old single men do. I understand that. But, why do I feel the need to protect him? Will I be one of those moms who cries the whole time he is gone in service? Geez. I have to get a grip.

In the meantime, the snow is falling and I am worrying and pondering the weirdness of motherhood.

What I Woke To This Morning

It is the first official snowfall of the season. To celebrate, we always watch The Snowman and have hot chocolate. If you haven't seen Raymond Brigg's book or the movie, you must find time! It is charming! I even show it to my classes the first snow day and bring hot cocoa for each class. I am quite the sucker for snow!

We are forecasted to have up to five inches! If so, there will be snow lanterns and snow people to share. Did I mention that I love snow??

Stay warm and do something wonderful today!

It cannot be!

Snow.

White stuff.

Falls from the sky.

In December.

Not October.

And yet our weather forecaster declares that we shall have flurries this weekend. I am not ready. Not even close to it! I still have One More Row Of Potatoes to dig. There are hostas to divide, bulbs to plant, shrubs to move. How did this happen?

Alright, who made the weather gods angry?

We will return to our regularly scheduled blog post after a short pout.