We dodged the "hurricane" effect of the latest snow storm. We've got 13 inches of fresh snow in the back yard, but the fierce wind gusts we'd been warned about didn't reach our neck of the woods. We didn't even lose power.
Still, we spent the day after the storm hunkered down at home, making the best of a messy situation with sledding, snow angels and birdwatching. Good thing we didn't have to go anywhere: The first plow through here didn't arrive until after 9 a.m.
I headed out early to attack the fresh 6 inches of snow that had fallen overnight. An hour later, I decided that half a cleared-off driveway was better than none. Still, it felt good to be outside in the morning air, getting my day's exerise out of the way.
Now, sitting in the den with the 3-year-old in my life, I'm just as glad to be warm, dry and, well, not exerting myself. There's a mug of Ovaltine waiting to be made and a new bag of marshmallows in the cupboard.
Somewhere under all that snow, a patch of small white flowers called snowdrops is waiting to push through the soil. In a few weeks the plants could be in bloom. And a week or so after that, winter will be over -- at least, officially. (We know better than to believe the calendar.)
But right now, looking out at the quiet woods decked with snow, thinking about that mug of hot chocolate, I'm almost glad there are a few more weeks of winter left.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Snow-icane
At least, that's what the local paper is calling the storm that's supposed to hit here tomorrow. To hear some of the hyperventilating weather people on TV you'd think we were facing Armageddon.
Or snow-mageddon.
Me? I'm ready for it. Not in the sense of having all we need to stand up to what Ma Nature throws at us, but ready to slow down -- even if it involves some shoveling.
I'd love to wake up tomorrow and find that every place I normally go is closed -- school, day care, stores, highways. I'd love to roll over, turn off the alarm and go back to sleep.
There is something magical about such a day. Humbling, too -- nature's way of saying she's still in charge.
So bring it on. Snow us in. We'll make snow angels once the wind dies down, and gallons of hot chocolate with marshmallows to keep us warm as we watch the flakes fall.
It's the end of February. We're not likely to see many more such storms before the crocuses push through the soil and tell us to shake off our winter selves and get moving again.
Or snow-mageddon.
Me? I'm ready for it. Not in the sense of having all we need to stand up to what Ma Nature throws at us, but ready to slow down -- even if it involves some shoveling.
I'd love to wake up tomorrow and find that every place I normally go is closed -- school, day care, stores, highways. I'd love to roll over, turn off the alarm and go back to sleep.
There is something magical about such a day. Humbling, too -- nature's way of saying she's still in charge.
So bring it on. Snow us in. We'll make snow angels once the wind dies down, and gallons of hot chocolate with marshmallows to keep us warm as we watch the flakes fall.
It's the end of February. We're not likely to see many more such storms before the crocuses push through the soil and tell us to shake off our winter selves and get moving again.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
T-shirt weather
I saw a boy on a bicycle today. Not that remarkable, I suppose, though it has been a long time since I saw anyone riding a bike.
What was remarkable was his choice of attire: He was wearing a T-shirt.
It is sunny in my part of the world today, sunny -- and in the high 30s. Not exactly T-shirt weather.
Still, seeing that boy thumb his nose at winter by riding his bike while wearing a short-sleeved shirt was a welcome reminder that the dark days and dreary skies can't last forever.
Ride on.
What was remarkable was his choice of attire: He was wearing a T-shirt.
It is sunny in my part of the world today, sunny -- and in the high 30s. Not exactly T-shirt weather.
Still, seeing that boy thumb his nose at winter by riding his bike while wearing a short-sleeved shirt was a welcome reminder that the dark days and dreary skies can't last forever.
Ride on.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Score one for parents
USA Today carried a story last week that ought to give anyone attempting to raise a teenager a shot of confidence.
Citing a couple of recent studies, the writer notes there is growing evidence that parents who set limits and enforce rules really do make a difference in their children's lives. In an age when "experts" seem to second-guess parents at every turn, it's encouraging to see parents being given credit for, well, acting like parents.
What caught my eye was the conclusion by researchers that "authoritative" parents seemed to have the greatest impact on their children -- not those who rule with an iron fist ("Because I said so, that's why") but who set firm rules AND take the time to explain them, the USA Today writer says.
Some parents, the writer notes, don't set limits or hesitate to enforce them because they fear conflict. A friend who works with troubled teens says too many parents want to be their kids' pal. Too often, she says, the teens in such situations gain the upper hand. Not a good thing.
No doubt it's easier to loosen up on the limits. No doubt your teenager will conclude that you're "cool" if you do. But as a parent who survived -- just barely -- the raising of two teenagers, I promise you it's a mistake.
It's often said that limits equal love. Believe it.
Citing a couple of recent studies, the writer notes there is growing evidence that parents who set limits and enforce rules really do make a difference in their children's lives. In an age when "experts" seem to second-guess parents at every turn, it's encouraging to see parents being given credit for, well, acting like parents.
What caught my eye was the conclusion by researchers that "authoritative" parents seemed to have the greatest impact on their children -- not those who rule with an iron fist ("Because I said so, that's why") but who set firm rules AND take the time to explain them, the USA Today writer says.
Some parents, the writer notes, don't set limits or hesitate to enforce them because they fear conflict. A friend who works with troubled teens says too many parents want to be their kids' pal. Too often, she says, the teens in such situations gain the upper hand. Not a good thing.
No doubt it's easier to loosen up on the limits. No doubt your teenager will conclude that you're "cool" if you do. But as a parent who survived -- just barely -- the raising of two teenagers, I promise you it's a mistake.
It's often said that limits equal love. Believe it.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
S'no joke
I have steadfastly resisted the temptation to chortle over the tizzy much of the East Coast has been thrown into by the recent blizzards. (Amateurs.)
I mean, what good would it do to gloat as I watch the videos from Washington -- the stranded motorists, the shuttered government buildings, the weary Washingtonians shoveling snow? (Cry-babies.)
Here in the frozen north we laugh at snowstorms that dump a measly foot of snow on us. Hah! we say, as we glide down the road in our 4-wheel-drives or crank up our snowblowers. We are made of sterner stuff, we who know what it is to go months without seeing a blade of grass. (Softies.)
It would be rude -- nay, heartless -- to scoff at the mess these winter neophytes are contending with, even as we dust off the latest 6 inches of snow to grace our neck of the woods. No, these victims of what has been dubbed "snowmageddon" need our understanding, our patience, our compassion ...
(Aw, suck it up.)
I mean, what good would it do to gloat as I watch the videos from Washington -- the stranded motorists, the shuttered government buildings, the weary Washingtonians shoveling snow? (Cry-babies.)
Here in the frozen north we laugh at snowstorms that dump a measly foot of snow on us. Hah! we say, as we glide down the road in our 4-wheel-drives or crank up our snowblowers. We are made of sterner stuff, we who know what it is to go months without seeing a blade of grass. (Softies.)
It would be rude -- nay, heartless -- to scoff at the mess these winter neophytes are contending with, even as we dust off the latest 6 inches of snow to grace our neck of the woods. No, these victims of what has been dubbed "snowmageddon" need our understanding, our patience, our compassion ...
(Aw, suck it up.)
Sunday, February 7, 2010
It's 4 a.m. ...
... Do you know where your dog is?
Actually, I did know where my dog was at 4 a.m. a couple of mornings ago. She was standing at the front door, barking her head off. When I heard her, I hopped out of bed and headed for the stairs, hoping I wasn't too late.
I was.
The living room carpet was dotted with, well, let's just say the dog had had diarrhea since the night before and had already given our carpet steamer a serious workout. Silly me, I thought she was over her intestinal distress. But no.
Two days earlier I had taken our 17-year-old cat to the vet for her annual checkup. As usual, she freaked out. This time was extra special, though: It took three adults to hold her down while the vet gave her her rabies shot. I was not one of them, by the way. Having already had my hand bloodied by this tyrannical old feline, twice, I was excused. In fact, the vet thought it best that I step out into the lobby and wait. Several loud screeches later (from the cat, that is), the deed was done and we were on our way.
Back to 4 a.m. ... As I was scrubbing the living room carpet by hand (because I didn't want to wake everyone else up), I thought about the dog. I thought about the cat. I doubt they were thinking about me.
So it goes.
I've brought animals into my life because I appreciate their companionship, because I don't know whether I would like my life as much if I didn't have pets in it. I would, no doubt, have cleaner carpets and fewer scratches on my hands if I didn't have pets. But it sure would be quiet around here.
Especially at 4 a.m.
Actually, I did know where my dog was at 4 a.m. a couple of mornings ago. She was standing at the front door, barking her head off. When I heard her, I hopped out of bed and headed for the stairs, hoping I wasn't too late.
I was.
The living room carpet was dotted with, well, let's just say the dog had had diarrhea since the night before and had already given our carpet steamer a serious workout. Silly me, I thought she was over her intestinal distress. But no.
Two days earlier I had taken our 17-year-old cat to the vet for her annual checkup. As usual, she freaked out. This time was extra special, though: It took three adults to hold her down while the vet gave her her rabies shot. I was not one of them, by the way. Having already had my hand bloodied by this tyrannical old feline, twice, I was excused. In fact, the vet thought it best that I step out into the lobby and wait. Several loud screeches later (from the cat, that is), the deed was done and we were on our way.
Back to 4 a.m. ... As I was scrubbing the living room carpet by hand (because I didn't want to wake everyone else up), I thought about the dog. I thought about the cat. I doubt they were thinking about me.
So it goes.
I've brought animals into my life because I appreciate their companionship, because I don't know whether I would like my life as much if I didn't have pets in it. I would, no doubt, have cleaner carpets and fewer scratches on my hands if I didn't have pets. But it sure would be quiet around here.
Especially at 4 a.m.
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