|
Okay, I live in a state west of Ohio that is currently experiencing some of the most beautiful weather. We had a day of falling snow with wind, not too bad, some accumulation, good for kids. The next day was absolutely perfect winter weather. Colorado ski country-perfect. Big, puffy mounding snow with no wind at all and bright light. This I could handle. I have polar fleece lined jeans; I have a four-wheel drive; I have Muck brand boots. Life is good. Then, as is our state's custom, the weather began to change. Thanks to Algore, the temps started going up, which caused my favorite winter precipitation: wintry mix. Who came up with this title--media marketing departments. We can't have the weathermen using terms like, slush, slop, freezing rain and drizzle. All of those have negative connotations. Can you just hear car panels slamming together? Let's find a perky, happy term--I know, how about "wintery mix". That's fun! Let's use that. Our wintery mix continued for several days. The snow did not really melt, it just sort of sagged a little. My children had built a fort in the backyard using a baby pool, a turtle sandbox lid and, of all things, a 16' aluminum canoe (thanks to a suggestion from their father), as the roof. Things were good until #1 showed me the new "addition" utilizing the canoe. It was perched merrily upside down on four piers of snow. "Look Mom, isn't that cool? It was Dad's idea." Meanwhile the thermometer is rising to the point that I am considering looking for daffodils..."Honey, that's seems a little precarious given the temps today. It would crush your head--oh wait, no, your head is a D**** hard-head. Your head won't break, but your little neck would snap, and that is one serious injury, Babe." I let it go for another day. Another glorious day in our tourist-magnet of a state. I verbally hammered my husband; Why do we live here? (We're stuck here. The operative word being "stuck".) When do we get to move away? So, you'll have to start your career over from scratch...big deal. At least there'll be sunshine. Every April I have to trot out this little monologue: Don't look kids! That glowing orb in the sky can hurt your little shrivelled-up white eyes that came about from living in the dim conditions! It's not the rapture yet, it's just our side of the planet is getting closer to that big star that gives us heat. You'll get used to it in a few weeks. Shade yourselves!! Anyway, the pasture was too mucky for horse frolicking. The chickens were pathetic, hopping from one horse manure island of melted snow to the next. The snow kept sliding down the metal barn roof to the very edge, over the doors, waiting for a victim. Then finally, even the kids were afraid of the canoe situation. That and the fact that to get underneath, in their "fort" required belly flopping in the mud. I did four loads of muddy snow clothes. It's a grand place we live in... The horses are stuck on their little island of sawdust, really ticked that they're not allowed out. Then yesterday, we almost got to flip-flop weather, with rain. We routed our downspout from barn roof into the horse water tank and made it into a swimming pool. All snow is now gone and the sun went with it. When I went out for late haying the other night, it was horror movie weather...fog so thick I could not see the house...absolutely no light visible from the sky. Mist rising from the sodden ground. Yuck o rama. I told the kids, one of our state mottos is, mud knee deep by Christmas! I have a couple of gray turtlenecks that I feel compelled to wear on days like this. Unfortunately, I don't have enough of them to keep up. I have a scarf with lovely gold bells on the end, but it just feels really queer to be jingling and wearing mud boots at the same time. The snow has finally left, revealing the doogy doo area in stark reality--thankfully reminding us where not to build snow forts. I'm hoping for a cool-down, not for my comfort certainly. I just want the horses to be able to leave their confinement for awhile, and that's not gonna happen while we live in slip-sliderland. Kids are dreading another green Christmas--I actually consider it more of a baby-poop brown, but I know I need an attitude adjustment. We're here. Our families are here. We love our place. We just miss the sun. By spring I feel like Golum... Oh, and the canoe, resting comfortable, points buried in the yard.
|
Comments
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by
|
|
|
|
|