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 . . .

With apologies to my atheist friends

I encountered this verse, from a poem by e.e. cummings, years ago.  It spoke to me then, and it speaks to me now, and if you like, just take out the word God - it isn't necessary for the verse's evocation of that feeling of transcendence and exaltation the beauty of the world and life can inspire.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

Musical Exaltation

Tonight I went to Richardson Hall for a concert of the complete Brandenburg Concertos.  They have been my favorites since I was very young - eight or nine.  I remember discussing which one was my favorite with the influential German philosopher, and member of the Vienna Circle, Paul Oppenheim, who was to me "Uncle Paul."  I think we agreed on the sixth, but I have never been able to choose as an adult!

I have listened to them countless times, but I have never attended a live performance.  When the music started, I was suddenly overcome - so many memories of listening to the Brandenburg Concertos in so many different circumstances, most especially with my father, who loved them also, and whose musical tastes I shared.  In fact, had it not been for my father, I don't think I would have developed the love for classical music that I have.

My eyes filled with tears that welled and then spilled over. I felt a hot flush of embarrassment spreading over my face. Luckily, after the first movement, my emotions settled down, and I was able to feel myself sinking into the music.  It adds such dimension to attend a live concert.  I promised myself  I would buy more tickets soon, and also that I would play the Brandenburg Concertos for myself when I got home.  I was amazed at how much of the music I had missed; I had enjoyed the surface, without knowing what was going on beneath.

The night before, I went caroling.  A violinist and mandolin player accompanied the group.  It was wonderful to listen to them.

At some point, watching the musicians, I wondered at human beings:  at our inventiveness, our creativity, the culture we have constructed to keep ourselves entertained.  I saw, just briefly, the musicians on stage as though I had never seen musicians before - a group of people holding wood and sinew and hair and metal that had been fashioned as if by magic into instruments and using them to make pleasurable sounds for the entertainment of other people, sitting and listening.  It all seemed so improbable, and so amazing.

Tonight I got my holiday present



Me as Marie Antoinette, in honor of the showcase we may do.



Tonight I drove down, way down, to White Pine, New Jersey.  Pete Berlin, my financial advisor (goodness, just typing that makes me feel like a zillionaire; would that it were so!) was throwing a celebration party* for his clients, and I had rizvipped that I would go.

Not that when the time came, I was unequivocally enthusiastic.  Far from it.  I had received an invitation to join friends of mine at a free concert a two block walk from my house, and then to go for a late-night breakfast at PJ's Pancake house, where we would share an order of buckwheat pancakes (be still my heart!).  Giving that up wasn't easy, but I had said I was going, and by golly, I was going.



The traffic on Route 1 was hellacious.  For half an hour, I made a turtle look like Speedy Gonzalez.  I breathed deeply, listened to Beethoven and Bach, and told myself whenever I got there, it would be fine.  Then my GPS system displayed its puckish sense of humor and took me around and around until it finally had mercy on my despairing soul and deposited me at the fancy schmance Trump Golf Country Club.



When I entered, my advisor, Pete Berlin, and his wife were there and greeted me warmly.  We chatted for a while, others chiming in, and then I saw an old ballroom dance acquaintance of mine.  I sat with him and his mother, another ballroom dance pal, and we had a wonderful, energizing, totally copacetic time.  I basically forgot to eat - I begrudged the time it would take me to go get the food from the buffet.  (And believe me, my advisor pulled out all the stops.  The food was terrific and gourmet in the best sense of the word.  I wish I had some now for a midnight snack!)



We made plans for the three of us to do a dance showcase together involving Marie Antoinette era costumes, complete with powdered wigs and minuets, and to have dinner together sometimes before rehearsals.  I felt, at the risk of sounding really sentimental, that the universe had given me a great gift; a gift of friendship, with people who are creative and excited about working on new projects as well as being thoughtful about life, with its ups and downs, its delights and despairs.



What a reward for doing the right thing and driving down to this dinner!



And by the way, because I don't want to slight his impact on my enjoyment of the evening, Pete Berlin was an incredibly thoughtful host.  I spilled my diet soda at one point due to an importune gesture, and when I found my way over to the bar to get another, he was already there getting a replacement for me!  Now that's thoughtful.



As I drove home, I felt so filled with gratitude and also energy - the energy that comes from spending time with kindred spirits.

I have gotten a wonderful gift for the holidays this year; there could scarcely be a better.  Thank you.



*He was celebrating moving to Ameriprise near Marlton, NJ from another firm whose ethical standards were quite a disappointment.  Pete Berlin, in addition to being a really good financial advisor who thinks about each client's particular needs in depth and anticipates things that may come up in the future and suggests plans for them, is a truly ethical, decent human being.  I respect him enormously.



So there, Lorenzo the Magnificent!

As I explain in my amended post about a space alien visitor for Thanksgiving, my friend Lorenzo the Magnificent was appalled by the computer-distorted photo of myself I posted, and yielding to his horrified entreaties, I have banished the photo to the outer reaches of cyber-space.

Stung by his (and other's) implication that this photo remotely represented me, I immediately grabbed my obsolete cell phone, which has a camera included (the only camera I use) and, pausing only to brush my hair, but not even to put on makeup (this was at the end of a long, trying day), or take off my coat,  I took my photo.  So this is me, as of Tuesday, December 14, 2010, after a day of editing, tutoring, erranding, and Stony Brook brook exploring.  It may not be my best photo ever, but I don't believe anyone would accuse me of being a space alien - based on my looks . . .

Magical Explorations

I had plans for this afternoon; plans which I entirely forgot until I was headed to dinner with my brother and sister-in-law.  I regret the forgotten plans to go to Drumthwacket for early music concerts, 18th century festivities, and cookies and cider; it would have been different and social.  But I cannot find it in my heart to regret my afternoon's occupation, which yielded enchanted finds to treasure.

I found a new secret stream and forest, today, one which I had no idea existed, and one which has a rushing brook, moss-shrouded boulders, and bramble-protected bowers.  It seems to go on and on, twisting and turning, rushing and babbling deliriously through the rocks and boulders wedged in the stream bed. I wanted to follow it through to its end, but didn't have time.  The stream itself was protected by a wall of brambles, then a wide wooded walkway, and another wall of brambles, making it truly seem like a world apart.  I would have loved to have strolled on the other side as well, but for that I would have to wade through the water, and and I deemed it imprudent.  Now I wonder why.   I can hardly wait to go back, with boots. 

Then I explored a different stream, getting much further down than I had ever gone before, discovering in the process a sand-bank strewn with quartz and pebbles with vari-colored inclusions.  The woods did not yield up their secrets without a fight, however.  The brambles were astonishingly vicious and animated, twide they scored hits brutal enough to make my blood literally flow; my fingers were covered with blood.  But the battle and the wounds were worth it.  Rootling around the sandbank, I found, among other nifties, a pale rose-quartz, a quartz pebble so clear part of it is transparent,  a fossilized whelk(?) shell, a large semi-petrified oyster shell, and - a geode with sparkling crystals exposed!!!!  Yes, it is tiny, the crystals are tiny, but it is a geode, naturally eroded to display the crystalline interior, and I found it; I didn't buy it, I found it in the stream! 

I love rubies and emeralds and sapphires and opals and amethyst and diamonds and the list of gemstones goes on; but the clear quartz pebble, the petrified shells, and the geode are just as exciting to me; as dear to me as a royal diadem, because I found them, and because they are natural magic.  I want to go back to this second stream - again with boots, and in this case, with a tough set of pruning shears for all the brambles - and explore more pebbled sandbanks and find more treasures. 

There is no end of excitement in the world if one simply peeks behind the veil obscuring the thrilling adventures awaiting us.  I was eight years old again today, and it felt wonderful.