More snow??????

I just stepped outside for a moment and guess what it is doing?  That's right - it's SNOWING!  This winter is definitely under some kind of enchantment.

I had the feeling looking at this gate, tantalizingly open, that if I were to walk through, I would emerge into another world; that something magical lies just beyond.  What would it be?  A frozen fairy court ruled over by the Snow King and Queen?  Snow people strolling about, chatting amiably with each other?  ("How's the weather?  Cold enough for you?")  An ice palace inhabited by furry critters who have decided not to hibernate this year?  I may never know . . . but then again, I may.

Snow, snow, glorious snow - every day brings a little bit mo'

My snow-covered house before the new foot of snow fell!

I went for a long walk today in the new snow - all 12 plus inches of it.  Some places, the snow was up to my knees - and remember, I didn't sink all the way down to the ground, so imagine how much snow there was!  I passed a woman sitting outside her house all bundled up, and said hello.  She responded "Isn't the snow beautiful?" and we exchanged a few enthusiastic thoughts about the wonders of the landscape.

Pete took this photo of his backyard at Canal Pointe.  It doesn't look real, somehow; it looks like a magical country, perhaps from the Nutcracker Ballet.

Wednesday afternoon, I saw a troupe of ten or so Westminster Choir College students putting together this gigantor snow person, but my phone camera battery was dead, so I went back today, Thursday, and got this rather dark, gloomy shot.

Selective editing



Kitty here demonstrates his editorial
 prerogative: bad dog, nice mice.

 After writing the previous post about the new snow, I decided take a quick look back at my 2010 posts, and apart from enjoying reading about last winter, I was struck by something in my August and early September posts.

Actually, I was struck by nothing in my August and September posts - reading them, you wouldn't know what had really been going on in my life then, because there was nothing about any of it. 

Such is the power of the editor and the writer to re-shape life, at least on the page!  If only I could control my memories to the same extent!  Change your memories, and you chance your life and along with it, yourself.  If you think about it, it is true.  Our experiences, along with what we are born with, make us who we are.  If we control which ones we remember, and therefore, which ones affect us, we control to a significant extent who we are. 

At any rate, I, at least, know what lies between the lines in my blog, and have other, safer, places to keep those memories.

Brand new snowman socks in honor of more SNOW!

It snowed again today, and in honor of the weather, I put on for the first time my handy-dandy dollar store snowman socks!  (Drum roll and fanfare, please, maestro.)

Then I put on my boots, completely obscuring my handy-dandy dollar store snowman socks, unfortunately, and went outside to clean off my car and shovel, even though it hadn't snopped snowing.  Why? you may well ask.  Why didn't I just romp and cavort and do all those other fun things one can do in the snow?

The sad truth is that I had to go to the store to buy supplies - aaarrrggghhh.  Usually when it starts to snow, I lounge smugly and snuggly at home, pitying those poor misguided fools who panic and run out to the store to buy milk and bread as though they will be confined to their homes for the next three weeks.  However, I realized this morning that as luck would have it, I was out of just about everything but cat food and apples, and neither one has been appealing to me a lot lately, so off I went in search of provender.

It is just beautiful outside.  It has stopped snowing, temporarily I believe, and I am going out for a walk to Harry's Brook.  I am suffering from brook deprivation due to the continuing snow cover, and really need a dose badly, so I am venturing forth into the winter landscape, armed with my phone camera in case I feel moved to take a picture or two.

If we get more snow tonight, perhaps tomorrow will yield a new snowman of more impressive stature than my previous attempt, fetching though his/her hairdo of fern fronds was.

In the mean time, happy snow to all.  Try to take the time to really look at the world and enjoy its frosty, sparkling white beauty while you can.

Climbing out of the rut

Well, this afternoon, fighting mightily against the impulse to curl up with my cats and take - yes - a cat nap, I continued my heroic struggle to climb up out of my rut, and I won the battle for today. 

I dragged myself up and out to a Princeton Symphony Orchestra concert at Richardson which I had been interested in.  It was a choice between that and a concert at Nassau Presbyterian Church, but I decided Beethoven's "Eroica" would be more moving and uplifting.

Actually, I was wrong.  I did successfully resist the desire to remain nestled in my comfy rut, but sometimes the only reward is the reinforced self-discipline, not actual pleasure or enjoyment.  First of all, it turned out that I was really tired, so I kept on furtively digging my fingernails into my hand and wrist to keep myself from lapsing into a coma.  Second of all, the marimba piece, which sounded really interesting, was all in minor key, which I find depressing, and it was thoroughly modern in a strenuous, atonal way, with nothing to connect with.

Then, third of all, the somewhat eagerly-anticipated  "Eroica"  turned out not to be as transcendently moving as I had hoped. As I was walking out of the auditorium and beginning my homeward stroll, I heard an older woman express my feelings to her companion:  "I didn't know that last piece - what was it?  'Eroica'? - as well as I thought I did."

The last two movements were quite familiar; and the rest of it was vaguely familiar, but altogether, I realised I don't know "Eroica" very well, and until I really hear it several more times, it isn't going to be a favorite.

Nonetheless, to concentrate on the positive, I did climb out of my rut.  But when I got home, I jumped right back in again, and no apologies for that.  It's comfy in there.

Happiness discovered yet again . . .

I unexpectedly found happiness tonight.  There it was, sitting on a shelf next to the window in my mudroom in the guise of an old potted hyacinth bulb which had magically and seemingly overnight sent forth two fragrant spikes of white flowers. 

The hyacinth's beauty filled me with wonder and gratitude for life's everyday miracles.  Flowers really are miracles.  Just look at them, really look at them.  How can something that beautiful really exist?

In my eternal quest to understand the sources of happiness, I ran across an article about a fascinating study at Harvard University.  This study did not reveal the sources of happiness - it revealed the complexity and obscurity of human experience.  At one point, though, I read something which both rang true so loudly I could almost hear it, and which also absolutely amazed me that other people feel that way.  The author of the study, in giving a lectures, pointed out to his class that:  ". . . people tell psychologists they’d cross the street to avoid someone who had given them a compliment the previous day."

There have been many times when a relative stranger - a worker at the post office, a bus driver, a bank manager - has said something nice to me.  Not icky, over-the-line nice, just nice and friendly.  And I have not gone back to that post office, have not taken that bus again, have avoided that bank branch afterwards, feeling awkward and ill-at-ease about seeing the source of the compliment again.

Now, I don't react this way often anymore, but there is still a bank manager I find it difficult to look at directly, which I know is ridiculous.  (Reading that article, and writing this, I now resolve to look him in the eye and greet him with an appropriate level of friendliness and enthusiasm next time around, instead of avoiding his eyes and mumbling in response to his hellos.  For heaven's sake, how old am I?  Twelve???  Actually, in a lot of ways, more like 8 or 9, but that's another story.)  I believe it is because I have ceased to read anything in to the compliment, I have ceased to have any expectations of what it might mean, what might happen next;  I have taken it at face value, enjoyed the glow, and left it alone. 

It felt so liberating to discover that I wasn't the only one to feel awkwardness and unease about certain compliments, that this is a well-known phenomenon not restricted solely to nut cases, lifted that feeling of psychological abnormality that can be so oppressive.
The lecturer continued, and again, I understood some of my puzzling reactions to good things as not being bizarre and unique to me, but something others might experience as well.  He pointed out that "Positive emotions make us more vulnerable than negative ones. One reason is that they’re future-oriented. Fear and sadness have immediate payoffs—protecting us from attack or attracting resources at times of distress. Gratitude and joy, over time, will yield better health and deeper connections—but in the short term actually put us at risk. That’s because, while negative emotions tend to be insulating, positive emotions expose us to the common elements of rejection and heartbreak."

It isn't that I didn't understand some of the dynamics before - I had figured out the annoyingly unproductive way my brain sometimes works - but it is so freeing to read that other people - not necessarily raving lunatics and basket cases - have the same counter-intuitive reactions and problems, and to read an "expert's" dispassionate, rather validating analysis.

Winter Welcome

Mehrlicht is coming! Mehrlicht is coming!

Just when you are in danger of being swallowed up by the post-holiday. deep-winter doldrums comes Mehrlicht to the rescue.

An obscure (to say the least!) winter festival with its origins in the folk customs of Denmark and Germany, Mehrlicht celebrates the time of year when the gradually lengthening days become more obvious, and hope begins to stir that spring and redemption will come.

Observances are varied, with lit candles figuring prominently. as well as handmade holiday cards and paper crowns.  I have found a few people potentially willing to march to Palmer Square with me at night, carrying lit tapers, but I'm not sure I'm psychologically prepared this year!

Much more likely is that one evening this weekend I will make my way over to a lake or stream and send a bark boat off onto the waters with a small lit tea-light to drift for a while on the water before I reel it in with a string tether attached to one end.

It looks so much like winter this year, sidewalks, yards, and shrubs all covering in thick snow icing.  THIS is what winter looks like, only we've forgotten over the years.  This year is a forceful reminder of what winter used to be and can be again.  Those of us who love having four seasons have little reason to complain.  We are promised more snow tonight, but so far it hasn't materialized.  The six year old lurking behind my adult exterior is secretly hoping for a foot, but I fear she is doomed to disappointent.  However, any contributions will be gratefully accepted, even an inch or two!

Itty Bitty Snowperson

I don't so much have New Year's resolutions as I do seasons' resolutions.  Each summer, I resolve to have watermelon at least once, to enjoy bing cherries when they are most copious, and to try to get to the beach.  Each winter, I resolve to make a snowperson if there is enough snow.

I didn't make a snowperson the first time it snowed - all that shoveling dispelled any ambition in that direction.  But yesterday, when a client cancelled just as I was about to leave the house to head over, I realized it was an opportunity handed to me on a platter to fulfill my resolution.

When I got outside into the snow, hoever, I discovered one teeny tiny leetle problem, however.  The snow wouldn't pack.  I tried this, I tried that, and I tried the other, and never came up with anything more impressive than a snow was about three inches across that disintegrated if I looked at it threateningly.

What to do?  Wait until the next day?  Who knows what might come up to discoerage me.  So I scooped snow up into a small tower shape, stuck some dried fern tips in for a fetching hairstyle, plugged in eyes and a curved pine needle for a mouth, and presto!  A snowpersonlet.

If I have another oppportunity with more cooperative snow, I will certainly make a full-fledged snowperson.  But at least I can rest easy, knowing I have satisfied my resolution.

I even bought hot chocolate to have afterwards, which was mighty pleasant, I can tell you.

All that remains is to set up a few logs in my wood-burning stove, and it will be official winter heaven.

Not having to worry about getting my walk and driveway shoveled within the legally-mandated 24 hours makes such a difference!  Without that concern nibbling at the back of my brain, I can relax and enjoy all there is wonderful about the winter, which is just about everything except for the bone-chilling cold blowing over my feet and ankles from under the baseboards.

Winter Landscapes

We had 16" of snow on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, and then on Sunday, we had some more snow, although just a couple of inches.  According to the weather forecasters, who are less accurate than a pack of drunken orangutangs, we are to have snow Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday.  I would have mixed feelings about this, were it not for the fact that by chance I encountered Javier and his merry men last night digging out my neighbor as I was heading off to a birthday celebration for my brother.  It turns out Javier and company shovel walks, plow driveways, and clean off cars during the winter, and do landscaping during the summer, and now they work for me as well as for my neighbor across the street.  So I laugh at the snow - HA! - I have nothing to fear from it any more, and I can just enjoy its beauty, confident that my sidewalks will be safe for passersby, and that I will be able to get out of my driveway without a marathon shoveling effort.  I feel a twinge of regret at the lost challenge and physical workout, but I am going to make up for it by going for a 45 minute walk on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and the weekend.  I should get a digital camera, so that I can take pictures as I stroll.  It seems everywhere I look, there is something wonderful I wish I could internalize and remember forever.

This weekend I drove down to Stonicker Road to walk along the brook there, knowing that soon more snow would come and cover any treasures with a white, frosty blanket.  It was cold, and the brambles were vicious, but I found a few stones that I am almost certain when split will have crystals inside.  Today, despite the fierce cold and the fresh snow, I went walking along a part of Stony Brook I haven't explored before. 

The brook was almost entirely frozen; the surface of frosted silver gray, dusted with snow.  In a few places, the rushing currents below had broken through the ice, and I could hear the coursing ripples.  It was beautiful and still.  In several places deer tracks crossed the frozen surface, and I wondered if the ice would bear my weight.  Uncharacteristically, I decided to be prudent, and didn't attempt it.  As I contemplated the frozen beauty of the scene, a though came to me unbidden - "The world is beautiful."  It surprised me, because I often feel that the world isn't beautiful, especially when I am driving past a strip mall or some particularly muddle-headed architecture.    But I have to agree with myself - the world is beautiful.  You just have to know how to look at it.  For example, there were several two or three inch little conifers poking up through the snow.  As I looked at them, I imagined themd as full-size trees seen from a great distance - it was magical and slightly disorienting at the same time - and I would love to photograph it.

As I wandered through the snow, I came upon the remnants of an abandoned bridge!  I have no idea when it was built, where it went, and what vehicles it was meant to convey, but it was somehow thrilling to come across its archaeological remains.

Looking for information about it on the web, I came across information about a different abandoned bridge further up and around the bend on Stony Brook, and as I looked at the pictures, I felt a throbbing of excitement and anticipation in my chest.  I can hardly wait to go exploring there. This is a photograph of the area obviously from the spring or summer.  I will try to take a photo from the same vantage point when I get there . . .