Happy Solstice

It's less than a handful of days before Christmas here in Minne-snow-tah, and there's NO SNOW. I'm having a heckuva time getting into the spirit....

Feeling a bit desperate today, I tried wrapping gifts while listening to instrumental holiday music. I enjoyed some eggnog, took a bite or two (or ten) of peanut brittle, and even threw a top hat on my wraith -- "Old Blue Eyes" -- and dubbed him the Ghost of Christmas Future. But his Dickens vibe still didn't put me over the edge. And Dickens always puts me over the edge at Christmastime....

There were cards in the mail and brown paper packages (sans string) on the doorstep. And snow could be smelled on the air....

Still.... No 'holly jolly.'

I stood for a long moment at the front door and breathed in the scents of woodsmoke and the promise of snow. Twilight had come early in tints of slate and lavender. My Little Free Library was a shadow at the curb. Rowanberries trembled on their branches in the chilly December gusts, while a rabbit sheltered beneath the tree in a stand of frozen coneflower heads.... 

Suddenly I got it. And gone were thoughts of Burl Ives and Toys R Us and Amazon Wish Lists and whether or not I should schedule a haircut before Christmas. I'd been focusing on the wrong stuff.

(*Deep breath*)

So now I pour myself a glass of wine and raise a toast to that rabbit, that twilight, those shadows and wintry scents. And to you.

May the season wrap you in its wintry arms and fill your heart and spirit with peace. Happy Solstice.

Love,
...me.

Thoughts of You

Finally. A day of clouds....

The wind outside flutters the evergreen spray on my front door. It sounds like spidery fingers, scrabbling at the window, trying to get in. The ghost of Christmas Future. It knows that shadows of the holiday still exist in here....

In the front room I can hear Miss Lily picking in her food dish for the 'good' bits while Lovey feathers her nest and Thurston preens. He mutters to himself and Lovey scolds him gently. An old married couple.... 

Already Boo's upstairs, curled on her pillow in the bedroom shadows. A princess surrounded by her tower of books.... 

The house is dark. Shadowed. The furnace churns, the refrigerator hums.... I put the kettle on the stove and prepare my cup, then nibble Christmas cookies while the water heats.....
 
Soon it's ready. I carry my coffee out to the desk, inhaling its steam, sampling it in tentative little sips, burning my tongue. Because I'm lost in thought. Thinking of you and how to begin my letter.

And before long, I'm away in my head, visiting with you again in the glow of the computer monitor. :)

Because of you I do this. And because of this I love you. Don't say anything to my art, 'k?, but sometimes writing is even better than drawing. 
...
 

'Tis the Season

Winter Begins

Snow piling up outside. Soup bubbling on the stovetop. Candles casting dancing shadows. Greens on the mantlepiece scenting the house like a woodland walk. Frank Sinatra on the radio, jazzing up the carols. My guy downstairs, enjoying a Snow Day....

Forget hustle and bustle, car commercials and diamonds, and 'stoplights blinking a bright red and green.' I'll take this for my holiday, thank you.
...

Seriously Minnesota?

And it's this dark here, too!

It's Tornado Awareness Day here in Minne-snow-tah (emphasis on the snow) -- the sky is dark, the sirens are blaring, and this is what things look like out my front door.

C'mon, Minnesota....

I'm pretty much a nester. A cocooner. That one lady in the neighborhood who has a cat and doesn't answer her door. Much. So weather like this doesn't bug me anymore; I just brew a cup of tea, put on another sweater, and tuck in closer to the drawing table.

But it used to be that I had to slog to and from a bus stop five days a week in stuff like this (and worse; there's nothing like stepping off the Metro Transit in tornado weather). And I had to do it wearing a dress and heels. I'm a tee, jeans, and Converse girl; writing the words 'dress' and 'heels' gives me hives. And I tellya whut: it got old immediately. Two days of snow in my pumps and I was ready to kill something.

Not so much anymore; I'm better now. But this winter is pushing my buttons.

Still....

There's no denying that my neighborhood -- with its yards full of flattened leaf mold and thawing piles of fragrant dog poop -- is looking a lot prettier right now.
...

Wintry Play

More of a snowlady than a snowman...

Yesterday I shoveled slush, salted walkways, walked in the snow, made a snowman -- the first I've made in years, as I recall; the last being one I created ages ago for James on Valentine's Day.... 

When I initially went outside, making a snowman wasn't my intention; I was really only planning to create a path across the yard for the mailman so he wouldn't have to go back out to the icy street between houses in order to deliver my mail.

Shoveling the path is what I usually do (and sounds easier than it is), but since yesterday's snow was wet and sticky I couldn't help myself. The stuff was perfect! It was a sin to waste a snowman-making opportunity. And as I rolled the heavy snow along the pathway I recalled wintry days from my childhood, little Me desperately working with my wet woolen mittens to pack snow into a ball when it wouldn't stick together.

What began as play soured quickly. Moments earlier my across-the-street neighbor (a contractor) jogged past with his clipboard on the way to another neighbor's remodel project, and he'd already given me good-natured (I hope) grief:

"Playing? Really?? Some of us gotta WORK!"

I know he was teasing, but my ears heard the words like parental scolding and it bothered me that I just couldn't ignore them....

After he'd gone, the street became quiet once more and I quickly finished my task. It was just me in the snow again, my world all cotton wool-ish and insulated. It made me think of the recent snowfall just days before. James and I were outside clearing the driveway (thinking that we could expect much more snowfall and wanting to get ahead of the game), and the entire neighborhood was doing the same thing, burning through the pathetic amount of accumulation with their screaming snow blowers...

(Let me just say that I dislike snowblowers. I wish they hadn't been invented.Yes, I get that they're a godsend and all that. And it's not like I haven't been envious on those days when Mother Nature sees fit to bury me in an avalanche too big for me to dig myself out of....)

...and I couldn't help but notice my neighbor down the way, blowing out his driveway while his teenaged sons stood around talking to their friends. How different would it have been if they'd all shoveled together? Would they have conversed or joked like James and I do? Would they have noticed the birdsong or the sound of snowflakes falling or the rhythm of their shovels? There was an opportunity for something and it wasn't being taken! (It's like doing the dishes together; how many opportunities for conversation/problem-solving/bonding have been lost by the invention of the dishwasher?)

Love the winky face! :)

Anyway, I finished up my snowman quickly, not bothering to round out his edges or brush off the accumulation of grassblades and rabbit droppings. I picked dried hydrangea blossoms and poked them into his head for hair. A row of dotted Echinacea pods became his mouth; two more, his eyes. Milkweed stalks were his widespread arms. A row of withered daisy blossoms were his buttons. When he was finished, he looked more like an old snowlady in curlers than a snowman.

As the day melted on, he listed drunkenly to one side, still with the loopy smile. And when James saw him later that night, he suggested we scatter a couple cider bottles in the snow at his feet for the fun of it.

But today I went back out and straightened him up. I replaced a button and coiffed his hydrangea 'do. And now I'm considering making him a sign to hold:

"Make Time For Play. It's as Important as Work."

...  

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Icy feathers decorate Tumbledown's old windows today, and white crusts of frost line the edges of its weathered doors. The thermometer says, "Stay home!" and I'm listening with both ears. Because it's so cold here in my Minnesota village that I'm half an inch away from wrapping the kitten around my neck like a stole. :)

But regardless of the temps, there's still a lot that's dipping my day in molten gold:

1. A dash of cinnamon in my morning coffee, and cold hands (in fingerless gloves) wrapped around the steaming mug of it.
2. Breakfast slices of holiday fruitcake served warmmmm....
3. Magick pencils and the warm-up sketches they create that never fail to surprise and delight me.
4. Some Wii hula-hooping and a little Zumba to get the blood moving.
5. And you, you, YOU, of course. You, reading my words right now, wherever you are. You with your warm heart and warm thoughts. Thank you. :)

How about you? Is it cold where you are? Then get ready, because I'm sending you a thick, wooly hug:

(...HUG!...)

There!

Now go be creative, my friend. :)
...

My World is Still a Wonderland

Five days later and the frosting's still on the wedding cake!

Finally -- a Snow Day for Unsnowy MN

Yesterday's beautiful storm

Leap Day did a number on us here in the Village. It definitely wanted to be noticed. It was!

 

After a night of heavy rain on Tuesday, all turned to snow; snow that was gorgeous but amazingly difficult to shovel. I rarely regret not having a working snowblower, but about the time my arms were falling off I was giving one some serious dang thought. Returning inside afterward to the comfiness of my chair and the promise of hot tea and a good book was especially appreciated.

 

And now today I'm feeling the effects of that bout with the storm. I only thought I'd been victorious! Threading my arms into my coat sleeves this morning was 'interesting,' to say the least. But all felt better once I ventured outside and greeted the day.

 

My usual route was compromised by puddles and plow trails and meant navigating lawns deep in snow just to get to the street proper to begin my walk. Ankle-deep water rushed along both curbs on its way to the storm drain, bubbling and whirlpooling there as it overwhelmed the narrow grates. Leaping over it all just wasn't in the cards for me, sore as I was.... 

 

Branches overhead -- still heavy with snow -- occasionally dropped slush in my path, and off in the distance droned the buzz of a chainsaw as the occasional homeowner dealt with old tree limbs unable to bear the weight of it all. It made for an interesting walk: in spite of the chaos left by the winter storm, all was white and pristine and made brilliant by the sunshine and singing birds. Even the chainsawers in their flannel shirts and rolled-up sleeves seemed to smile as they went about their work.

 

I rescued leaves rushing by in the torrent. I took pictures of an already melting fort dug from a sodden snow bank by school kids happy to call yesterday a Snow Day. I greeted a man shoveling waves of water down his driveway. I dodged snow 'bombs' and soaked up the sun. I smiled.

Smiled. Smiled smiled smiled.

Doesn't sound like much, I know, but this face noticed and was monumentally grateful.

...