The snowy forest at night
Even though this long winter continues to snow and blow and freeze and fuss, I still think an icy snowfall sparkles beautifully.
This morning, captured under the glow of our deck light, heavy wet snow dressed the woods in grandeur yet again.
The woods before dawn illuminated by our deck light
After many mostly photography-less weeks, I reached for the Canon Rebel and lost myself attempting to capture this view, and that view, and how about this one?
Posted in February 2014
Tagged forest at night, life, photography, shoveling, snow, snowstorm, thoughts, Upper Peninsula, winter, wood pile, woods
White. Winter. World.
It’s so easy to get—ah choo!–a very bad case of–ah choo!–you know what I’m going to say don’t you?–a very bad case of Cabin Fever at this time of year.
It doesn’t matter if you live in a cabin like we do.
Doesn’t matter if you dwell in one of those fancy apartments in a fancy city. Doesn’t matter if you’re milkin’ cows down on the farm. Or driving through those suburbs on expressways wishing you lived down south.
In Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin, the Dakotas, (add your northern state here or maybe your southern state, the way things are going this year) you probably have 1) a teeny tiny bout with Cabin Fever or 2) a burgeoning case of the blues or 3) you’re ready to shoot six holes in your freezer, thanks, Jimmy Buffett.
Lately, oh so lately, I’ve been able to sit with my own uncomfortable inner places much longer without turning away.
Because of this, I can stay with a good friend on the telephone for 78 minutes and resonate with her pain. I will not shirk or abandon her. I will stay with her in that dark underworld of suffering and regret and perhaps eventual grudging acceptance without turning too quickly toward the positive, the optimism, the la-de-da where it all feels okey-dokey.
Oh how I’ve sometimes turned toward optimism way too quickly in my life, grabbing hold of it like a snowshoe, begging it to keep me safe and navigating through deep drifts.
Others embrace the negative too quickly, resisting, fighting fervently against the way the present moment refuses to meet their expectations, digging their boots deep in snowbanks, paralyzing all ability to propel forward.
Lately, oh so lately, I just allow it all to exist, you and you and you, pain and joy and delight and death, negative and positive, the whole compost of it, the whole turning of the seasons.
Through the deck window before dawn this morning
We awoke to another eight, ten, twelve inches of snow. Who knows without a ruler?
I offered to warm up and brush off Barry’s car before he left for work. (He does the same for me many days.)
It’s zero degrees (-17 C) again, supposedly dropping throughout the day. I am blogging solely for entertainment purposes, aiming to ward off Cabin Fever.
Circle of life
I shouldn’t be here today.
I should be listening to testimony from a jury box, attempting to determine the guilt or innocence of a fellow man. Said man is presumed innocent until proven guilty, sayeth the law.
Fortunately or unfortunately–I shall not be determining this. Along with a dozen or so others yours truly was ousted, sent packing, shown the courtroom door. After intense questioning and 2 1/2 hours of jury panel seating yesterday morning, I’m a free woman once again.
I agonize over the thought of declaring someone guilty or innocent. Too many cases exist of wrong decisions. However (before anyone gets started with the opposite viewpoint) I am also glad to live in a society where–hopefully, sometimes–a panel of ordinary folks can assist in coming to a fair verdict.
As for tossing someone in prison without attempting to heal a dark heart, well, that’s a topic for another day.
Since I have to go to work today–no “fun” in the jury box permitted–I am going to issue a judgment.
Against this winter.
Guilty of being too hard, too long (OK, that’s biased, since it’s only January), too cold, too snowy.
Let’s walk to the mailbox, shall we?
Barry is plowing snow today, thank goodness, for last night the tractor stopped dead as he plowed the twelve inches of new snow on the driveway. It simply stopped cold, done, finis.
He plotted repair scenarios all night in his sleep, but this morning–lo and behold, another miracle!, the tractor revved once again. Ice in the gas line, he thinks. (I will correct this diagnosis later, just in case non-mechanical me is completely in error.)
1. First of all, relax. You don’t have to DO anything on another snow day. The Universe gives you permission to relax and lie on the couch all day–in your pajamas–if you so desire. Breathe in, breathe out. Simply BE. That isn’t so hard, is it?
2. Watch the snow fall. Snow descends from the sky in such fascinating different ways. As previously discussed, when the wind is a’blowin’, snow sometimes falls down and then ascends up. Sometimes it scatters sideways. This morning, cuddled beneath the white comforter in my jammies, it seems the flakes fall tenderly. Can you imagine tender snow drifting downward?
From side window overlooking deck
The oddest thing just happened!
I sat upon the couch, meditating, not thinking about much of anything. My gaze settled on our windows. Quietly peered through the windows, noticing how they act as frames for nature.
A house filled with snow frames.
Little frames for window art.
Windows unto the black and white soul of winter.
Sorry, you’re going to have to look at old pics from 2011. It’s too cold for me to go outside and take any new photos.
Good chilly blanket-wrapped morning!
I hope you’re keeping warm, readers.
Let’s pour a cup of coffee–or would you like tea?–or hot cocoa?–and chat for a spell.
So many everyday conversations begin and end with weather these days. Our thermometer shivers at -10 (-23 C) this still-dark Tuesday morn. My husband just warmed the car in the driveway (it started suspiciously with that telltale err-err-err sound even though he bought a new battery last week) and drove through -32 (-35 C)wind chills to his job at the Sentinel.
I, on the other hand, live in the lap of wood stove stoking luxury. Most of our schoolchildren in the western Upper Peninsula stay at home, protected from that wind chill, yesterday and today. Therefore, I stay at home.
Theoretically, that is.
1. It’s the damnedest coldest winter I can remember in many years–and we’re only three days into 2014.
2. The Christmas lights still shine in our Little House in the Big Woods–but I’m taking them down on Sunday. You can hold me to that resolution.