It might be in the single-digits outside, but I know Spring is coming. I know this because I have my seed catalogues. I’m putting the finishing touches on this year’s order; the seeds are chosen, but I have to determine what other seed-starting supplies I need. Within the month, I should be waiting for seeds to sprout.
Short of flying to a desert spa, it’s the surest way to get through February.
This year’s order will be mostly vegetables, with just enough flowers to fill the planters on my deck and patio. Even those planters will hold a lot of veggies this year; I’m thinking of some beautiful mixtures of chard and kale and other edible greens, possibly with (edible) nasturtiums.
I don’t mean the metaphorical dogs that are my feet. It has to get a good bit colder than single digits to keep me entirely indoors, and I’m confident I’ll reach my daily step goal today (Though I readily admit to bundling up when I go out.)
But for the hound dogs, definitely too cold. The Puppy will go to the back yard ready for a romp with her brother. But the brother, The Beagle, gets only as far as the 4th step down before turning around and heading back to the door. And so back we all go indoors, as the puppy also doesn’t want to be out there without the brother.
Which makes snuggling on the couch all-important. The dogs snuggle together, and they snuggle with whichever human being will sit with them. Usually that’s my husband, but in the early morning hours, when only I and The Puppy are up, I head to the couch so she’ll have company. And occasionally, just occasionally, The Beagle joins us. He’s the one who snores, ever so softly, ever so sweetly. He also leaks out little moans when he’s awake and we pet him. He’s a talker, and I don’t pretend not to love that.
Reading while snuggling
Indoor days are good for cleaning, cooking, and reading. Not in that order. Today I finished devouring Amor Towles’ The Lincoln Highway: 576 pages in three days, not because I’m an amazingly fast or devoted reader but because the story and the characters and the prose just pulled me through. I’m still processing the ending (no spoilers here) but loved every minute of the read.
Dinner will come from the freezer, where I need to free up space for many leftover portions of a delicious ham-and-bean soup filled with more vegetables than you can imagine. That was dinner last night, along with a pound cake that I made intending to share at book club, only to be reminded just before it went into the oven that it requires several hours’ rest after baking. That rendered it moot for book club, which started 1/2 hour after the cake came out of the oven, so that’s something else that needs me to free up freezer space. This is feeling like an endless cycle.
Yesterday’s book club discussion was about Kairos, by Jenny Erpenbeck, which I found both beautifully written and a fascinating look into East Germany just before the fall of the wall, but perfectly excruciating to read because of the utter toxicity of the relationship it centers on. Thumbs up and thumbs down at the same time, if that’s even possible.
The snow gremlins have been out. Also the snow fairies.
A new winter storm came in last night right about dinnertime, dropping a couple inches on top of the couple that had fallen earlier. We awoke to a snow-covered canine playground in the back yard, and sometime early this afternoon I went to the back deck and discovered graupel—a word I learned only a couple of years ago from a fellow writer and immediately absorbed into my vocabulary because it is both useful and celebratory. I’m not sure I ever saw graupel—basically, snow pellets—as a child, but we see it quite a bit now. (On the other hand, I saw a good share of hoarfrost growing up, and I can’t remember the last time for that. It’s a shame; I remember hoarfrost to be miraculous. Alas, winter is changing. Heavy sigh.)
So yesterday and today, snow, more snow, graupel. And in between, while we weren’t looking, our neighbors shoveled our sidewalk twice. Truth; we have that kind of neighbors.
We do the same for them, actually. When I go out with the shovel (or broom in a light snow), more often than not I clear more than one segment of sidewalk. Usually two or three houses’ worth, sometimes more. I’m already out, it’s a simple enough act of kindness, a gift to both the neighbors and anyone who will walk by, including the mail carrier. And sometimes, like today, they shovel our walk.
This is the way to live in the world. Act with kindness, and kindness is more likely to come back to you.
And so today’s #frontstooppoetry is more thank-you than poem, but it defines this day.
Also…the snow was packable!
This may have been the first truly packable snowfall since we got our second dog a few months ago. She’s Tess, aka the puppy because we didn’t intend to get a puppy. We intended to get a companion for Elwood, the 6-year-old beagle. He’s the one who chose a 10-month-old. Or they chose each other. In any case, she joined the family.
And she is a lover of snow, running and frolicking in it. Today, I threw her first real snowball to her. Suffice it to say her instinct is not to catch. We’ll see if that might change.
But in between doggie play events in the back yard, I came across this sweet, royal snowman while walking through the neighborhood. I’m a lover of snowmen, perhaps a connoisseur. They bring me joy at every stage of their lives, from pristine newness to melty end of life. This one stands out for his crown and his very happy expression.
Yes, grateful
For nice neighbors, happy dogs, snowmen, and the library system that allowed me to walk just a few blocks to get a book I only learned of this morning, I’m thankful. My small blessings are everywhere.
I was walking the neighborhood today, a podcast in my ear as I collected my daily allotment of steps in advance of a winter storm, when I looked down and remembered that it was Valentine’s Day. There in front of my feet was a nearly perfect heart, made of snow and ice. I snapped a quick photo, went on my way, and forgot all about it. For a few hours.
I remembered as I sat over dinner with the husband in our local. And though it be dark outside already, I just finished telling the neighbors about it on my front stoop chalkboard. It’s still Valentine’s Day for another 3 hours, and #frontstrooppoetry is posted for the day.
It counts even when it’s dark out.
What am I grateful for?
I almost forgot to add this! Today I’m grateful for these things and more:
We woke today to a forecast of rainy drizzle. Never one of my favorite weather conditions, it was especially inconvenient on this day because we had promised our dogs much-needed exercise. Our car was in the shop all week, rendering us unable to take the puppas to the woods or the prairie, and neighborhood walks are mere placeholders for them. They love long walks with no traffic nearby, and the beagle lives for the scent of deer.
Having picked the car up from the mechanic too late yesterday to take them anywhere, we really felt we owed them a trip to the woods.
So after feeding all of the household critters while downing only a short portion of our morning coffee, the husband and I piled both dogs into the car and headed for the river path through the woods. There we saw geese, woodpeckers, cardinals, squirrels, and yes…plenty of deer. There’s no sound like the sound of Elwood on the trail of deer, and no frenzy like it, either. He darts to and from, tugging the leash and yelling. The sound that comes out of him is neither bay, nor howl, nor bark, but a unique mixture of the three, and it’s sheer joy for his people.
Tess, the maybe-a-year-old, maybe greyhound-cattle dog mix, is interested in the deer, but not frenzied. I think she cares more about the other dogs, all of whom she wants to be her friends. Alas, she didn’t get to play with any others this morning, but she still had a grand time leading and following her adoptive brother through the woods.
Back home, predictably, they collapsed together in a pile of legs and bellies and heads and fell fast asleep.
If that’s the only good thing that happens all day, it will be enough.
I have been less than reliable in posting daily poetry to the front stoop, and even less reliable adding it here. So today we have a double edition of #frontstooppoetry.
It turned back to winter after teasing us with false spring. First cold, then snow flurries, then a freezing mist last night that made everywhere a skating rink. I learned this morning that an icy-coated rubber welcome mat is even slipperier than an ice-coated wooden deck! (Good news: I did not fall.)
I had to acknowledge the mercurial weather on the chalkboard, with “Snow Flurries.” It did really feel kind of like Mother Nature was reminding us who’s in charge.
That was two days ago. This morning’s ice rink thawed fairly quickly, and I was able to walk down my alley and front sidewalk safely by about 10am. By late afternoon the temperature felt spring-like again, and shortly before sunset I spied a beautiful, slightly hazy half moon peering down at me from far above the pine tree in the back yard. I was happy enough when I went outside; the moon lifted my spirits even further.
Today I’m grateful to be re-establishing a podcast habit while walking, grateful that my hound dog tried to leap into my lap while I worked at my desk this afternoon, and grateful for the inspiration to post a new poem on the porch this evening. All in all, a good day, and it’s not yet over.
