Snow...and the trees drop their arms

Had a peculiar day yesterday with the nice fall giving way to the first big snow, one so heavy that it downed power lines and we were without electricity for most of the day. It’s amazing how one such day shows you how addicted you are to the usual. I kept turning on lights, putting my coffee in the microwave, even bagels in the toaster. I had Henry all day and he had to have asked at least a dozen times for me to turn on the TV.

So it was a day of full engagement. I knew the day with Henry was coming…just not the shape of it. We played dinosaurs and cleaned out some cabinets – the ones under the china closet. They had enough interesting stuff in them that he enjoyed that for a while. I’d forgotten what was in there and little of it was precious. I let him un-box a Japanese tea set with a bunch of little cups, and play with those little appetizer/butter knives that come in a boxed set with Christmas trees for handles (all the while wondering where these things came from and what to do with them). I did a few reduction things like take the four crystal glasses that were still good out of a big box and throw away the box and the chipped glasses, sniffed sachet that had been in there forever and threw it away, and I found candles for the latter part of the day.

Donny was out shoveling and plowing and helping neighbors who had no heat. I envy him his usefulness sometimes. He’s such a “can do” guy.

We were in the middle of making chicken and dumplings with the cabin’s lantern sitting on the stove when the power came back on.

Around me today – outside the cabin – there are bangs and thumps, thwacks and great whooshes, as the heavy snow drops and branches shift. It comes down on the cabin’s roof like the foot steps of bears, and snow showers pass by the windows. The clumps that hit the ground make plopping noises, and holes in the surrounding snow.

Power lines and tree limbs come down with nothing more than the weight of little crystals of snow all piled on at one time.

I feel solidarity with my trees as they go through this enforced dropping of their arms and the release of weight that is too heavy a burden for them to carry.

On our own two feet

On my way to the cabin

As I was walking out to the cabin this morning, the coffee pot in one hand, my coffee cup in the other, and my camera bag slug over my arm, I thought, ‘The reason women need purses is that we’ve always got two hands full.’ It seems sometimes as if men travel lighter through life, but then again it just cracks me up that I’ve got to make two trips most days, just to sit for an hour or so. Last night I left my laptop here, so today I didn’t have to make two trips. But then, as soon as I got here, I had to go to the bathroom.

I’ve just started bringing the coffee pot and have been thinking about getting a coffee maker. But then I’d have to bring water. I could get a dorm-sized refrigerator, but I’ve less need for cold drinks. I’d like a more comfortable place to sit, but then, with any of those things, I feel as if I’d lose the charm or the simplicity. Walking back to the house isn’t a big deal, it’s just that, other than for in the early morning, I know I can get stuck there. If Henry wants to see me, if a meal is being made, if I notice something that needs doing…I feel that conflict between coming back out and staying inside.

I had another one of those mornings when I woke up early, about 4:30, and thought how lovely it would be to get up and have a little more time out here in the dark. But I stayed until I realized my cell phone wasn’t on the table next to my bed. I didn’t get up long before its alarm would go off, or get out here much sooner.

The cabin door creaks like one of those in a scary movie and Simeon just came in and creaked it as he came.

The sky is white and the ground dark back here at nearly 6:30, but when I look out toward the yard the day is evident, the stucco of the house visible, the tall yellow galardia a spot of color in the green.

I’m slowly realizing people won’t change until they’re ready. You’ve got to feel the pain of being disorganized enough times before you’ll get organized. You’ve got to feel the pain of the sedentary life before you get moving.

I’ll walk today. It’s Saturday. I take Henry (and Sam) on an adventure early on Saturday mornings. We go to the neighborhood park and walk the trails. So far Henry’s not keen on the mud but he knows mornings are wet and that the ground will dry. I ask him how it will dry and he says “From the sun.” That thrills me. He wants me to carry him over the muddy places and I tell him that explorers have to stand on their own two feet. When his grandpa came with us one morning he whined about being carried practically the whole time…when it’s just him and me he doesn’t keep that up.

Donny feels like he is here to meet the needs of his family. That’s been a pretty tough job and he’s getting worn out. Men have their burdens too.

But we’re all on an adventure and have to stand on our own two feet. That’s what I’m discovering anyway.