It’s the Midwest. Winter. Someone must have really made Mr. Winter upset to have him send this frigid frozen tundra our way. It’s the first time since I moved in to this 130 year old house that I have not had my pellet stove running. The furnace is set to a warmer 70 in order to allow the heater itself to run more to keep the house warmer and to keep the pipes from freezing. After having lived in the south many years where colder winters were few and far between, I learned to let the water drip ever so lightly to decrease the chance of frozen pipes.
As I sit here in my studio writing, I hear the frozen breath running through the tree limbs outside. The wind chimes with a voice that calls for a little warmth. The floors and walls creek as the cold grounds allow the house to shift, hopefully only slightly.
If it weren’t so dark right now I would be able to see the ice crystals in all their magnificence on the window panes. If it were sunrise, they would be sparkling in a cheery but cold ‘morning’ voice as the sunlight hit them in a rainbow like way. Promises of warmer days.
The breeze…not so much a breeze but a gust of wind is enabling the cold air to come through the little gaps in the older windows that surround me. All of this creating the heavy desire and burdensome thoughts of the need to put the house on the market again in hopes that it will sell this year.
Not a sound of a bird. Not a scamper of squirrel feet on the roof top. Only the whirl of the wind and the snow flakes that might still be a bit fluffy. Off in the distance I can see the ski hill lights dancing between the swaying tree branches. I often wonder how those skiers can really enjoy swooping down those cold slopes even when it is slightly below freezing. I’m guessing those slopes will be empty today.
I woke early this morning in order to be able to begin my hopes for myself of being productive and creative going forward in this life. All the while my body yearns to be back under the warmth of the covers snuggled with my pup who didn’t even think twice of following me up to the colder areas of the house. She instead snuggles on the warmer floors of downstairs, belly full and bladder empty. Dreaming of biscuits and warmer days when the kong can be thrown more.
I listen quietly over the whirlwind for a telephone ring…possibly in hopes that work might be called off. The radio communicates of temperatures 45 below, blowing snow across the highways creating ‘ice skating rinks’ for those careless drivers that believe nothing can get in their ways. Knowingly, realistically, I know that within the hour I will have to wrap up tightly in a winter coat to warm the car. Dashing quickly in hopes of making it without a wind blown hair to drive ever so cautiously to work. Once arriving, the dash from the car to the building will be a bit longer and possibly more dangerous with ice laden parking lots.
No phone ring. Hopefulness of no work today is probably just that. Hopefulness. Wasted energy thoughts. It’s time to finish preparing for the day and bravely confront Mr. Winter.