“Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and earth below, Over the housetops, over the street, Over the heads of the people you meet. Dancing, Flirting, Skimming along.”
The sun is shining, but the day still looks bleak. When I look out the window, I can see the dead leaves and stark empty branches of the trees which shaded the deck all summer. I don’t like winter, not because of the cold but because of the lack of color.
The other night I had eggs and toast for dinner. The eggs were scrambled with cheese, and the meal was delicious. Toast to me is comfort food. When we were sick, my mother would make us toast. She always served it cut in half on a small plate. The toast the other night made me think of her.
I have a new pattern going: a day out of the house then a day inside to recuperate. Yesterday I went to the movies and saw The King’s Speech. Last night my muscles screamed, and I woke up several times. Each time I did, I moved around to find where the pain seemed less so I could go back to sleep. Poor Gracie had no choice but to move with me. She and I went from one side of the bed to the other. I could slide around until I found a spot, but she’d have to get off, wait, then join me. She was kind enough to sleep in with me. Both of us slept until quite late.
When I was a kid, January always seemed a let down. Christmas was over, and we were back in school. No days off loomed unless we were lucky enough to get a snow day. I remember when snow started in the early evening, and I’d watch from the picture window in the living room hoping to see the sidewalks and streets disappear until a white blanket. Big thick wet flakes never gave much hope. They were usually teasers. The smaller flakes had the best potential. I’d watch a little TV then check back at the window hoping I’d see nothing but white. At bedtime, I’d hope that while I was sleeping the snow would pile as high as the hydrants so we could stay home and play all day. Back then, the fire station alarm announced no school, but I don’t remember the call signal. I just remember my mother telling us not to bother getting dressed for school: there wasn’t any.
We’d eat breakfast as quickly as we could, put on all our winter layers and head outside. Snow was never to be wasted.Explore posts in the same categories: Musings