Tag Archive: snow

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.




It started snowing earlier than predicted yesterday. Whopping big flakes, any one of which looked capable of taking down a moose. The temperature plummeted and with perfect timing we went to switch on the heat and… no heat, nada. I feel guilty writing that as I know millions are still without power. We were very fortunate and  lost it only briefly. Plus we have a wood stove for heat. In advance of the storm, I wheelbarrowed up a few loads of last year’s wood from the barn and piled it (well, dumped it really) in the garage.

A shopping trip was postponed as the weather and roads worsened and we settled in for a peaceful snow day. With the fire finally lit, no mean feat without kindling, and a chicken stew simmering in the crock pot, it was an ideal day for reading, resting, a game of scrabble and good conversation.

This morning kitted out with parka, gloves and warm knitted hat, I ventured into the backyard. The dogs and I crunched through the glazed snow and slowly walked the fence line. This was not powder so spotting tracks was not easy — for me at least. The only definitive evidence I found of an overnight visitor to  the yard was a solitary set of deer tracks on a direct line from one side of the property to the other. Probably heading for the apple tree next door.

Overhead a line of geese was headed somewhere, the rising sun reflecting off their plumage. To my eyes they seemed a bit off kilter and out of sorts. I imagined a lot of bitching going on up there about whose great idea it was to put off heading south for an extra week or two.

The sound of geese on the wing, especially in the early days of migration when I have not heard it for a while, tugs at my urge to be on the move. I never thought I would end up so close to the town I grew up in. I’ve lived in different places throughout my life and spent most of my time with one foot out the door. I always felt like I was on my way somewhere else. Maybe it was not so much on my way somewhere else but rather on my way to be someone else.

I am peaceful here and there has been a lot of healing and growth. I feel safe, cared for, loved…yet when the geese call I feel a yearning…for what I am not sure.