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.
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