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Slow Snow Going

Slow Snow Going

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It’s not that I want a blizzard, nothing as extreme as that. But a few inches on the grass, enough for the neighbor kids to build a snowman — that would be nice. 

There was a flurry of snow talk earlier in the week, safely couched in disclaimers: It could be rain, or snow, or sleet … 

But the latest forecast for tomorrow sounds more definitive: It will start as snow and turn to rain. If we lived an hour west in the mountains it would be a different story. But here, in the suburbs, we won’t have the white stuff for long. 

It’s early in the season, though. There’s still time.

(The woods in snow five years ago.)

Surprise Snow

Surprise Snow

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Sometimes it pays to forgo weather reports, especially when it means you can wake up to a surprise snowfall like we did this morning. Although from what I can make out, even some forecasts weren’t expecting yesterday’s rain to turn to snow in the wee hours of the morning. 

But there it was, glimpsed first at 4 a.m., when I woke up briefly, and now certified in the clear light of day.

It’s the most snow we’ve had in two years, and I doubt it will last long, but for now, it’s coating branches and grass and making the world outside look just a bit like a snow globe … finally.

Foggy Morning

Foggy Morning

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I woke up to a lovely fog: a world of softened edges and limited horizons. 

Gone is the street behind me, and the house with the long drive beyond. Front and center are the particulars of my yard: the leaf piles at the back, the twisted trunk of the volunteer cherry, the covered garden bench.

Fog makes us all myopic. It takes away the forest and gives us the trees. It provides an excuse for seeing only what is close at hand. 

Sometimes I need that.

Aloft

Aloft

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Wind whips the leaves off the witch hazel tree, sets them spinning down into a pile of gold. 

Wind bends the tulip poplar and the bamboo, which is taking bows outside my office window.

Wind sets the jets on an alternate course, sends them scudding, like the clouds, over this house. 

Trees, planes, clouds — may all that belongs aloft … stay that way. 

A Reckoning

A Reckoning

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The furnace came on this morning. I smelled the heat before I felt it, slightly acrid but warm and comforting, too. The aroma of thick bathrobes and steaming kettles and stepping inside from a cold rain. 

We could have held out longer, but why? It’s inevitable. The cold is coming. Toughing it out won’t keep it away. 

As befits a day of forced air heat, clouds dominate, and the stillness they bring is welcome. They promise seclusion and concentration and a long writing session. They promise cold, too. 

Bowling in the Rain

Bowling in the Rain

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We’ve had some rain lately, which reminds me of one morning in Oban, Scotland, when I was awakened by the sound of shouts and laughter wafting up from the bowling green beneath the windows of the B&B. 

It was pouring — but that wasn’t stopping the lawn bowlers. They were swaddled in rain gear, playing their game with the cool concentration of professionals. Cool being the operative word because it was about 50 degrees in mid-August.

I admired the pluck of the players, and later in the day, when it was warmer and dryer, circled back to watch the game. I still can’t say I understand it. But I do get the spirit of it, which seems to be, forget about the weather — have fun! A good lesson to keep in mind. 

Cloudy Day

Cloudy Day

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A quiet walk on a cloudy day. A rarity here, and I savored it, strolling through the dim light, noticing how still it was, how few sounds I heard. Even the birds seemed to be holding their breath. 

The pavement was damp from weekend rains and wet leaves slicked the path. There were twigs and small sticks, too. It was as if the woods had been partying and had yet to clean up after itself. 

This morning I wake to more rain. I’m hoping it will stop later so I can take a walk. If I’m lucky it will be still and cloudy again.

Open Windows

Open Windows

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The wind has changed, the humidity has dropped, and I’m about to take a walk in a long-sleeved t-shirt.  I may even pull my hands up into the sleeves.

Our September heat wave looks to be at least temporarily in abeyance. 

The best part: open windows. 

Storm Dodger

Storm Dodger

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Storm chasers are bold (some would say foolish) folks who race to observe a hurricane or tornado. I’ve become just the opposite, a storm dodger. Afternoon showers are such a common occurrence here that I plan my days around them. 

I walk the beach in the morning. At 3 p.m. I’m scanning the sky. Are those dark clouds forming in the west? How quickly are they moving? When do I leave the beach and head for shelter? 

There’s an art to this. Depart too soon and I’ll miss out on precious time in the sun and surf. Leave too late and I’ll be drenched. 

In fact, I’m writing this post while waiting for some storm clouds to pass so I can take a dip in the pool. Another day in the life of a storm dodger. 

Summer and Smoke

Summer and Smoke

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For me and for many, summer is a recharging season. A lot of the recharging occurs outdoors. Whether it’s walking the trails, writing on the deck, or dining al fresco, summertime is outside time.

But not this summer. This summer I check my phone first. This morning the air quality index is 153, Code Red. So I’ll write from my office and exercise in the basement. There are plenty of indoor projects — cleaning up decades worth of clutter, for starters. 

I won’t be idle. But I won’t be happy. 

And yet … it’s the way many of the world’s people live everyday, without the privilege of working at (and inside) the home. Missing summer is the least of their concerns. I’ll keep them in mind today.

(Summer in the city, where there was no smoke last week. A tip of the hat to Tennessee Williams for the post title.)