winter to spring

this winter has been so gloriously mild. lots of greens and browns on the landscape rather than white. when it has snowed, it's been a flaky snowfall that accumulates in miniscule inches and is gone the next day. crocus and daffodils already poking up in soft soil. more sneakers, less boots. walks on grass and asphalt, wearing thin gloves, going hatless. i have been spoiled by this winter's weather. 

until now. here we are only four days past the vernal equinox and we have snow. lots and lots of all day, all night snow. now that it's spring, comes the storm i've been dreading all winter. tonight my body aches from hauling in extra wood and shoveling to keep the walkway clear. it's snowing still and i know that tomorrow will hold more of the same. 

but as i write this, i am distracted by the forgotten beauty beyond my window. in the soft glow of the back door light, the snow sparkles as it flies through the air and settles in high drifts. it silences the night air and insulates this old house in a white blanket of warmth. it makes me remember what i have always loved about wintertime. 

sleepless

it's a dark and stormy night and i can't sleep with the driving wind and the sound of rain battering the window beside the bed. i listen to the stove beep off and back on several times, a sign that power may soon go out, and i get up to draw some water into the kettle so it will be there in the morning for coffee. out the window, the wind bends the lilac and blows leaves horizontally, a sure end to foliage season.

i light a beeswax votive, contemplate and quickly dismiss the idea of a cup of tea at this late hour, and i settle into the wingback chair to try to read a little. the quilt around my bare feet soon warms me and my head sinks into the left hand wing where it always rests now when i read. this is gladys taber, a writer from another era who lived by the sea. her writing reminds me of my mother and her mother before her, and of quieter, simpler times in our world. eventually, as they always do, her words bring me to a calm and peaceful place, far from the night's raging storm and far from the storms that have raged for years. and i blow out the candle, lest i fall asleep sitting right there.

older than dirt

i had a landmark birthday this year. i celebrated the day - nay, the weekend! - with glee and wild abandon. i joked about my age, and embraced my newly grayed hair. but, now that the hoopla is over and reality sets in, i just don't know how this could have happened. i remember my mother and my grandmother at this age, and they were so old! just a few short years ago, i was a teenager, a young wife, a working mother. now here i am faced with home safety matters, downsizing, and end of life decisions. i'm too young for this to happen!

my dad used to quip about his age...i'm older than dirt...i don't buy any green bananas...i have suits older than you...and i've started to adopt them. so happy big, ole birthday to me! now where are my teeth and my housedress?

tea time - or coffee?

seems more and more, i turn to tea over coffee in the wintertime. it warms these bones, soothes a dry, scratchy throat, and smells fragrant and light. earl grey, ginger, english breakfast, lemon zinger, chai, all served steaming hot and laced with local honey from a young friend's bees. for breakfast, i need hot coffee, at least one cup, all year round. in summer, i'll drink iced coffee, and likely too much of it! but on sharply crisp, bright winter afternoons like this one, i'll take a mug of hot tea. how about you?

a birthday in june

this is my grandfather, my mother's father. as a small child, i believe he was my favorite person. he talked to me and he made me laugh. he took me to church, and on trolley rides to boston and ferry trips to nantasket. he called me on the phone and showed me off to my great-aunts and uncles. he spoiled me with banana splits. when i was learning to drive, he gave me his old green two-toned ford. when i needed furniture after college, he gave me his maple bedroom set and didn't mind that i painted it navy and lime. on the day of my wedding, when i went to the hospital to see him, he cried because he was too sick and feeble to come and watch me get married. i adored my grandfather - he was huge influence in my life. although he's been gone now for most of my life, i still think of him quite often and silently thank him for making me feel so loved. he'll always hold an important place in my heart.

the little girl was born eight years ago this month, on the day of my grandfather's birth. i wish they could have met. he brought so much joy to my young life, and she brings so much to these waning years. i love that the two of them are connected in this very small, very special way.

preparing for christmas

the weeks since thanksgiving have flown. i find myself with too much to do yet i'm unable to get out of my own way. as much as i don't like winter, i'm almost looking forward to the calm that is january! but life is good - and so am i.

at the window

on the left, an old tool for grading maple syrup. the finished syrup was poured into bottles like these then held up to the light. the amount of light that passed through the syrup determined the grade.

on the right, a canning jar with lint from the drier tucked inside. i always start a jar like this at the beginning of march. when the weather warms and the birds come back, the little girl scatters the contents at the edge of the field, hoping someone will use it for nesting material.

outside the window, spring hasn't even thought about returning yet.

deep freeze

so much for the january thaw. we are back in startlingly cold weather once more. i fill the wood stove several times a day and still wear fleece and scarves in the house. i bury myself under the covers at night and wake up with a cold nose. i even bought long underwear! i'm about to throw caution to the wind - and money out the window - and just turn the heat up to 75°. if anyone catches me complaining about the heat this summer, remind me of days like this one!

it seems all i do in winter is write about the weather. but in extended periods of cold like this one, it's a big part of what goes on around here. it occurs to me, though, that i never seem to remember from one year to the next exactly how cold it's really going to get. and would i leave this area because of it? nah.

a fine new year

happy 2014 to you! i remember watching and reading science fiction that referenced years like this as being in the far distant future - and here it is - and we are in it!

despite my best efforts, it's been a slow start to the new year. christmas came down on new years day. extra holiday food was minimal because i didn't bake much. i skipped after-christmas sales because i don't need anything. but our weather has been dreadful and that's impacted my new year's momentum. we've had snowstorms and ice storms and bitter cold. scarf-in-the-house cold. fingerless glove cold. socks-in-bed cold. but the cold has made for beautiful nightscapes. one sub-zero midnight i got up to find the moonless sky bright with a zillion stars.  i sat in the window wrapped up in a quilt watching and waiting for an aurora. but, as much as i wanted to, it was just too frigid to get up, get dressed, and go out with the tripod to try to photograph anything.

but there has been enough snow just recently to bank the base of this old house in a tight heavy blanket of white; it makes a big difference in the comfort level here. i am thankful for that warmth and for so much more in this fine new year.

holiday musings

cozy and warm this stormy winter night, a week before christmas. even though i'm behind with my plans and i'm rushed with self-imposed deadlines, tonight i'm feeling so thankful for life the way it is right now. 

simple pleasures

so many times today, i smiled and thought to myself, this really is an amazing day. i was up and out early, my walk finished in the clear early light of morning. it was scarf and glove weather, the first such day this fall, but skies were cloudless and blue with brilliant sunshine. by midmorning, a problem weighing heavily on my mind had been lifted. later i made a bit of a dent in christmas shopping. a frame i bought at 40% off was eligible for my 20% off coupon. during lunch, i read four chapters because the waitress brought me a whole pot of decaf. i received a wonderful email from an old friend. a wrong turn took me to the cutest little consignment shop and a sweet little basket. i visited a new bookstore. i listened to my thanksgiving playlist several times, whistled a lot, and felt grateful for all the good things in my life. and, on the ride home, i watched the first star appear bright in the sky.

rhythm of days

it seems i'm beginning to find my retirement "groove", to establish some structure to my days, a bit of a routine in my life. i am working a lot, lazing a bit, and certainly taking time for myself that can't remember ever taking before. today as i was walking, as i watched a bank of clouds give way to bright blue sky, i was momentarily flooded with a sense of sweet contentment, and felt like i belonged right where i was at this point in my life. i sure hope the feeling lasts.

fact

this is the first opening day in over fifty years that i have not gone back-to-school.

just marking the day. 

finished.

for the most part, tonight was my final time at school. i filed documents, deleted folders, finalized lists, covered shelves. i took down the stuffed seagull that's flown over every desk i've had. recycled the remains of my personalized notepad. left treasures for colleagues. turned in my keys. reminisced, and cried.

here's a motley collection of things i had set aside during the days i spent clearing out and packing. together, it forms a collage that represents everything i believed in as a teacher, all the things that were important to me: kids, knowledge, wisdom, books, curiosity, colleagues, developmental stages, wonder, laughter. and fun. always fun.

getting closer

bittersweet days of late as i finish up a life-long career. a friend tells me i am milking it, taking too much time to finish up and get out. perhaps he's right - but i like the slow, deliberate pace, the empty spaces, the quiet reflecting, the reminiscing and remembering that goes along with all the sorting and packing. so many years. so many kids. so many memories. oh - and sooo much stuff! but more about that in another post...

almost the end

a week from tomorrow will be my last day of school. my last last day of school. i've had forty last days now, and there will be no more.

some of my students tell me retiring is the same as quitting, and i wonder if, in some respects, they are right. in an odd way, i feel a bit like i'm giving up on my profession - not on kids, just on the the way they're guided through the education process. i have always tried so hard to make learning fascinating, fun and joyous for kids, as it is for me, and i'm just not convinced that's happening any more. sometimes i feel responsible, like i should stick around and try more, try harder. and sometimes i feel like i should just move on and attempt to find a better way. clearly, i have chosen the latter and, at this point, there's no turning back. but i can't help but wonder if i'm doing the right thing.

i have taken a part time position that involves children and books, two elements that are a huge part of my present job. although this position will be very different than what i'm doing now, i am hoping having those two constants will help make my transition easier. 

as i blogged last fall, i am not a fan of change. i've been trying hard to be excited about this next stage of my life, and i hope and trust i eventually will be. but for this next week, i think things might just be a little scary and uncertain. and, most likely, a little bit sad. 

sad times

there has been so much bad news these past weeks. the shootings. the tragic death of a colleague. grave illnesses for friends. the hospitalization of a neighbor. families so sick. the prayer list grows by day. and as it does, it makes the wondrous events even more so: a friend is pregnant, another recovers from complex heart surgery, a healthy baby is born, an old classmate has been declared cancer-free.

these sad days, i'll take a little bit of joy any way i can.

solstice 2012

it's the longest night of the year. we welcome the return of light. darkness has been with us long enough.

comfort food

tomato soup and a grilled cheese cheese sandwich. 

it just seemed like a good idea on a cold, snowy, sad weekend. 

holiday's end

a lovely day. 

so blessed. 

so much to be thankful for.