Tag: snow

A New House & A Town Dream

I was driving. Wife with me, I was following instructions to my new home.

There was a twist. I was keeping my old home, but, per the instructions, I’d been rewarded with more space.

Pleased and excited, I drove along winding roads through green countryside, toward…my old home. But slowing within visual of my old home, I told my wife, “It says to turn left here,” so I did.

There…was my new ‘additional’ home, on the right.

Huge, set back on a sprawling green lawn, it startled me. This was mine…too. Yes, according to the instructions. I parked. My wife and I entered the house, walking around and gawking. Furnished, it was ready for us to move in. I discovered it had a pool in the back, which really excited me. Checking out the area, I discovered the road my new house was on looped around back to my old house, making it easy to go back and forth between the two.

My friend, Kevin arrived. He and his family were moving to the area. He said that they needed a place to stay. Happily, I informed him, “You can stay here. I have a guest house.” After I showed him and he agreed, I said, “And I have a pool, so I’m going to take a swim before I dress for work.

The dream shifted. I’d joined a group. We were about to explore our new little town. It was covered in snowy white, and a large map in the sky showed me the route to take. Twenty of us piled into five cars. I drove the lead car. Though the town was supposed to be new to me, I was familiar with it, so I took on the role of tour guide.

Our first stop was at a coffee shop. The young male barista shared a photo with me of a large red coffee cup. This was, he explained, painted on the landing of a local ski jump. It was where he’d proposed marriage to his girlfriend.

I shared this info with my group. Getting back into the cars, I drove us downtown. We jumped out of the cars and ran through the snow on the sidewalk. In a few moments, I realized, we’re at the sky jump. “Look! There’s the big red cup of coffee.” I pointed it out everyone.

We then chatted about that, which was where the dream ended.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Thinking about disasters as I was walking yesterday. Australia is struggling to catch a break this year, going from bushfires to rain to flooding. Indonesia continues having a tough time, quakes in Puerto Rico, and flooding in Chicago.

Then there’s the snow. A winter storm passed through here, giving us a couple inches. Trudging through the aftermath, we’re grateful because it helps the snowbanks, an important source of summer water, even while many mildly rue and curse the snow. Come on, it’s snow, and disrupts our easy ways and pleasantries with its cold intrusion.

It’s impressive how tiny flakes can add up. Our flakes went from normal or average sized to supersized flakes, back to normal before dropping into tiny. All still added up.

These thoughts took me to a Kate Bush 2011 song, “50 Words for Snow”. I enjoy her but I’m mostly aware of this song because Stephen Fry is the one giving the words. Fry delivers them like he’s tasting the expressions. Then Kate goes on with a chorus, “Come on, man,” telling him how many more words he has to go. I don’t hear this song often, originally hearing it by chance on NPR (“Is that Stephen Fry?”) but have since listened to it on the ‘puter, trying to understand all the words for snow. I find it satisfying and contemplative.

Like snow.

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Snow Blame

head feels like lead

you’re stuck in bed

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

you’re feeling low

and have nowhere to go

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

life is passing you by

counting days until you die

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

stuffing your face

with cheese and cake

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

can’t get to work

pet’s acting like a jerk

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

nothing’s on tv

not live or on the stream

blame it on the snow 

blame it on the snow

 

can’t find a mate

being alone is your fate

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

you can’t tell a lie

you ate too much pie

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

it’s a day without sun

now you’ve got the runs

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

1

Floofdance

Floofdance (floofinition) – Dance conducted by animals, often to celebrate an event or in joyous response to the music that they hear.

In use: “Seeing snow for the first time, the gray kitten began a floofdance on the porch as the flakes floated down around him.”

4

Snow Memories

As an adult, snow and I share a difficult relationship. Snow wants to do what it’ll do, and I prefer that it doesn’t disturb my routines. I think these things even knowing that snow is necessary for the snowpack that provides us water throughout the year (so go up in the mountains and snow heavy there, right?) and some of our local industries (like the ski lodge on Mount Ashland) depends on the snow.

But a day of blinding, fat flurries (like today — look out that window — how can you not?) always takes me back to snow memories, especially childish times. When I was a boy in school, seeing snow outside the windows was a harbinger of entertaining times like snowball fights, forts, and sledding. Snow diffused daylight, blending night and day into a special, secret zone of being. Snow muffled the sounds and tamped adult activities, leaving the world to us, the brave, the crazy, the children. Interruptions would arrive – cars stuck on hills, tires spinning in a whining hiss, vehicles with chains clanging past, snowplows grinding by, building new boundaries of small mountains alongside the roads.

Après outings were coming into a warm house where boots, mittens, and layers of frozen soaked clothes were shed. All had to be hung, put onto radiators or into dryers, depending on the era and house. Hot chocolate with marshmallows and cookies were offered, or tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches (white bread and American cheese, in those days) with a dill pickle.

Evening would come with a hesitant stillness, slipping in like it didn’t want to disturb the world. Books were read, drawings were completed, games played, television watched. Popcorn and fudge was made. The television was watched for news — would there be more snow? Will school be cancelled tomorrow? (Fingers crossed, breath held, eyes big as the news was awaited.) And more gazing out the window, at the amazing white world and the wonders of snow, were indulged.

Young and innocent, protected and secure, playful and happy. Everyone should enjoy such a life.

5

Snowfloof

Snowfloof (floofinition) – 1. Animal who is fond of being in the snow. 2. Snow sculpture of an animal.

In use: “The little princess, Her Most Serene Highness – yes, that’s her acquired name – wasn’t a snowfloof, oh, no, not at all, venturing out once. With each step, she shook her her paws from that disgusting stuff on her tiny paws. Within two feet, she’d realized it was falling from the sky and landing on her, and no amount of licking was resolving the problem. Well, that was it. She bolted right back into the house, cleaned herself off, and glared death at the sky for betraying her with this falling wet stuff and hiding her sunshine.”

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New Demands

Pent up by a winter storm, my cats conferred and emerged from their confab with new demands. Each demands that they get at least fifteen hours per day of personalized care and attention. Said personalized care and attention requires me to pet, scratch, caress, play, and feed each one (or allow them to sleep on my lap) for a total of at least fifteen hours per day. They’re calling this the fifteen-hour minimum initiative.

I pointed out to them that the day has only twenty-four hours, that I have other things to do, and there is no way that I can give each one fifteen hours of attention.

They reacted with sad head shakes. Boo, the spokes-cat, said, “Anything is possible, if you set your mind to it.”

They’re boycotting me until I come around, or feeding time, whichever comes first.

0

Two Out of Three

With snow falling and accumulating, my cats have adopted new rules for deciding whether to go outside.

  1. Does it look cold?
  2. Does it feel cold?
  3. Does it smell cold?

If two of these conditions are met, they don’t go out. Meatloaf was wrong: two out of three is bad.

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Pauses

They exchanged greetings, and then comments about their coats, hats, and smiles.

Then they went on, two strangers pausing to chat while they were walking through the falling snow.

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