Petticoat Junction

Image via Wikipedia

That’s one of those words (picked up from my New England friends) that perfectly fits today’s weather. Not a lot of snow but man is that cold wind wicked. You think you are prepared, parka – check, boots- check, gloves – check, and hat -check. Then you step outside and the wind zeroes right in on you. It howls around the corner, on the hunt for any exposed skin.

Eyes watering and cheeks burning I head to the barn for more firewood.  Along the way, I start singing  ‘Beast of Burden‘. Frozen puffs of breath puncuate the beat.  I’m counting on the cold keeping people inside, otherwise I would be a little more sotto voce in my vocalizations especially since I only know a few lines of the song. Okay, not even a few, just one, really. That is pretty much the case with my entire repertoire. I know one or two lines, at most. I try to make up for that deficiency with volume and enthusiasm. The real kicker is, the songs I do manage to remember, and remember fully are all those damn jingles from childhood and adolescence. More than a few of my brain cells are crammed full of that kind of dreck. Not Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, not the unedited works of Shakespeare…no, instead I am able to pull up the themes to ‘Petticoat Junction,’ ‘Green Acres,’ ‘The Patty Duke Show‘ and of course, ‘Mr. Ed.’

On my way back, wheelbarrow crammed full of stove wood, I check on the bird feeder. I have a battle raging with a neighborhood squirrel who has recently discovered the feeder. He has managed to figure out how to open the top where I pour in the seed and just sits there, gorging himself. Nearby an audience of seriously pissed off birds keep watch. I have countered each of his moves with my own devious ones, usually revolving around the use of duct tape. So now the once relatively attractive bird feeder is festooned with slabs of grey tape, in the faint hope it will keep the squirrel out.

 

photo by amjwrit

It has been a weird winter with precious little snow and warm temperatures. Having a few days of real winter weather now is refreshing and thhe snow is oh so  beautiful. There is something exhilarating about  the crisp clarity of really cold air. Even as it flash freezes my sinuses, it also seems to crystallize my thinking, sharpen my wits. Of course I am writing all this knowing full well there is little actual snow to shovel, and I  can retreat inside when I grow weary of being exhilarated. Then I can sit by the fire, mug of hot tea in hand and listen to the howling wind as my dog snores fitfully by my feet.

 

 

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