MONDAYS MUSINGS—THE MAGIC OF LOVE

Snuggled in my covers in between sleep and awake, I try to identify the sounds. Rain? Whatever. It’s not even eight-o-clock! I burrow deeper under the down comforter and reached for sleep only to be roused not more than twenty minutes later by gravel being thrown at my window.

Wait, gravel? What the hell?

Not gravel. Ice pellets. I pull the pillow up over my head. Doesn't matter. I can still hear old man winter whistling a discordant tune through the windows while scraping his fingers through the last of the leaves on the oak trees. His nasty little sprites, armed with machine guns, are shooting the side the house and windows reminding me that I forgot to lower the storm windows. Again.

Arrgh! I’m cursed this morning. So much for sleeping in.

I grumble as I pull on jeans and heavy socks and rummaged through my winter drawer for my Packers sweatshirt, which I drag over my thermal tee shirt. At least I was warming up. I forgot to turn on the heat the night before so the house was cold. Who thinks about turning on the heat when it’s sunny, warm, and 63 degrees? God bless central heat and coffee. J

I watch the horses through the window as they stomp their feet and blow fog sculptures. They’re waiting for hay. Funny how they know it’s the weather for hay and grain. Yesterday they watched as I offloaded bales of hay with mild interest but went back to grazing. Of course I was sweating like a pig yesterday in shirtsleeves as I worked insulating pipes, leveling and filling the water troughs, unloading the grain and dog food.

No sunshine this morning, just a whistling north wind, dirty cotton clouds and piles of white pellets.

I’m prevaricating. It’s frickin’ cold out there. The temps are still falling. I really don’t want to go outside but my babies are waiting for me. …fresh hay has to be put into the cat’s sleeping boxes and Rex’s new doghouse. We did a pretty good job with that despite not having a floor. Rex hates a floor in his doghouse. He’d rather dig a burrow in the dirt. Still needs a good layer of hay for insulation.

I set the cup down and reach for my wool scarf and gloves and pull on my coat. I stomp my feet into boots I haven’t worn since last February, grab my leather work gloves and head out the door. 

The horses rumble good morning and Sassy, me darlin’ is in fine form this morning arching her gorgeous neck, prancing along the fence line as I head to storage area of the work garage.  Sweet Tea is her usual bitchy self when food is brought out. Mine, all mine. Doctari is dignified and patient. Sassy knows I’ll feed her last and she lays her head on my shoulder and wuffles the edge of my stocking cap. I know what’s coming. She hates my winter caps. 5, 4, 3, 2, there it goes…plop and catches on the fence and she buries her nose in my hair. Damn horse. She makes me laugh and I soak up her love and affection. With a final hug I give her portion of hay.

I work my way through my list. At least it’s a relatively short list. My pride of cats bears me company as I work. A welcome comfort.

My final chore is Rex.  The pride follow me his area. They don’t mind Rex. He’s gentle with them. He sits close at hand, tongue lolling to the side, as he watches while I unload the hay and spread it in his nest. We have a pact you see. He sits patiently, sort of, while I lay the hay. I step back and gesture to the hay and he’s in the house pawing the hay this way and that until he has it arranged just so. Is he done? No. Next, he uses his nose and fine tunes the arrangement, lays down and wiggles around, then gets up again and noses it some more. I stand by grinning while he works. Several of the cats drape themselves along the roof of his house as he works and Jag is on the fence post by my shoulder. Sassy is finished eating and comes over to watch. I lean against her chest as she drops her head on my shoulder. She has such a soft nose. Rex bounds out of the house and back to me wagging his body in thanks. Sassy snorts but doesn't move away. Of course, it must be Pride approved. Couple of the cats jump down and look inside. Rex allows it.

I didn't want to come outside this morning. Cursed because I had to crawl out of a warm bed. It’s wicked cold. I’m already tired. My nose and the tips of my ears are about frozen solid. So why am I still standing here?

It’s the blessing, you see.

Love is a blessing. There is richness in love given and received. It doesn't matter whether that love is from two legged or four legged personalities. It’s something precious.

I close my eyes and give thanks for the blessings in my life. For the life I have today. For the love that surrounds me.

Something soft brushes my face. I open my eyes to big fluffy snowflakes softly falling around me. I feel like I’m floating in the snowfall. It’s beautiful. There is a hush to falling snow. A feeling of benediction. It’s magical.

I’m loved and life is good.

MONDAY MUSINGS: WE INTERRUPT SPRING...

One of the things I love about living in southwesten part of Missouri is the fact that winters are usually short. Most of the snow we get starts late December through mid February. The week of Valentine's Day, in a normal year, we've been known to get a few substantial snowstorms. Mind you, I don't particularly like having to break ice for the animals or tote water, but I can live with it. 

Ask anyone and you'll hear that the weather has been caddywumpus the past few years. Last year we barely got any cold weather and not much more than a dusting of snow and my tulips and daffodils were budding by this time. This year, however, we've had many of the big storms (10 plus inches) passed us by—either tracking a bit north or south of us.  We've not escaped the snow and have gotten 3 or 4 inches, which is usually gone in 36 hours. Valentine Day came with a dusting. Whew!

Well, I breathed too soon. Two days later we got hit with thunder sleet. That's when the weather starts out warm with rain and temps drop dramatically and you end up with icy sleet. Thunder and lightning with, not rain, sleet pebbles. Very strange to hear thunder rumbling across the sky and snow and sleet falling. They closed down the Fort except for keen and essential personnel and the kid missed work too. Hubs has had 4 snow days in the past two weeks. Driving out here, on rarely plowed country roads, is hazardous. 

When it was all done we had probably 3 inches of white on the ground. Nothing fluffy about this white stuff. It promptly froze into solid sheets of ice. You know its ice, and not snow, when you see a 1200 lb horse gingerly walk across it without breaking through and UPS drives up your driveway and slides to your patio—without breaking through the stuff. You should have seen him trying to go out my drive. I thought for sure he was going to keep right on going and end up in the middle of the pasture across road.  I was envisioning either an over turned truck or one of those huge tow trucks having to pull him out of the field. He merely slid; nose first, into the bank. He got real cozy with the shrubs but managed to stay upright and with some careful maneuvering, to slip-sliding his way down the road. Yeah, I was hearing echoes of Paul Simon. It was a real Kodachrome moment. J

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday I watched fresh snow falling while I worked. The sheets of ice were almost gone but ended up with a few inches of wet snow on top. In the past two weeks we've had about 3 or 4 days without snowfall. It could be worse. Forty minutes north they got 19 inches of snow.

 

Cardinals watching  the cats below

The poor Robins, who arrived just recently, were confused. I don’t think they got the memo that spring has been delayed by snow. Feeders have had tons of birds and more than usual. Of course nothing starves at Sia’s house. I've had suet bars for all the feeders and my usual peanut butter bark for the woodpeckers. I buy cheap peanut butter and stir in sunflower seeds and smear it in the bark crevices of the huge oak tree out front. 

Blue Jays thru the window

The Blue Jays and Woodpeckers argue loudly over territory and the yummy peanut butter. The birds love the snacks and my cats love watching the show perched on the window sills within the warm house.

Today,  all the snow is gone (except for some ice piles), but we’re expecting more tonight. I think spring will be delayed a few more weeks with all this white stuff and the deep-freeze temps.

I’m so ready for spring and flowers.

Last year's apple blossoms. 

SNOW DAYS AND WRITING

My blogger was unable to be here today, so I decided to reprise and article I wrote last winter. This week, like last year, was cold (only this year it resembled more of a walkin freezer) and snowy. Funny how the more things change, the more they remain the same, LOL!





When I was a kid, snow days were the thing to look forward to. A time for laugher and fun. No school, snowball fights, snow forts, and using the shovels—after we had shoveled the driveway—and making snow paths in the yard. We used these as trenches in our warfare games.



The not so fun part of snow days was my mom and her list of chores. I now know this was self-defense on her part. It was a way keep six rambunctious kids occupied. Needless to say, we didn’t often whine, “I’m bored and I’ve got nothing to do.” Lord, big mistake and *The List* came out.


Snow days at my house are a bit different. First, I don’t have six kids, thank God, to keep occupied. Back then we stayed outside or found adventures of “lets pretend that…” in our bedroom or the third story attic.


I have one child. Uno only goes so far. Snowboarding outside takes up a few hours, if I’m lucky. Snowball fights still happen but it’s the kid and me. He has TV, movies, 360 Xbox, paper and art supplies, and shelf full of books. I have a computer and projects to get done. Articles to write, books to finish, books to edit. Did I mention editing?

This is a normal workweek for me. I’m trying to keep to my schedule. Four days of no school and a husband who can’t get to work either. It’s vacation time for them. I’m in a groove and I have not one but two housebound males wandering around bored. I am not bored. I have plenty to do. I get up from the computer for a short fifteen-minute break and stretch out my tight muscles, go to the bathroom and get a cup a coffee. My mind is on what I’m writing (in this case, I'm working out the GMC for my next story), working out the kinks mentally, and walk back into my office and there’s my husband checking out Fox Sports. We do have a working TV.


“Oh, I thought you were done?”

I’m dumbfounded. You can tell, dropped jaw, wide eyes, standing frozen in the doorway.


He can tell. “You’re not done?”

“Sweetheart, what part of five open tabs on the computer screen makes you think I’m done?”


I always try for the sweet, reasonable approach first.

So I decide to take out the dog, clear my head in the cold outside air and rid myself of frustration. It’s beautiful outside. The type of day that brings back echoes of laughing kids, snowball fights and snow forts. I feel a pull on the leash and bring my mind back to today just in time to see my poor Great Dane trying to do her business and ever so slowly slide down the incline. This is her second winter and she’s still learning her way on this white stuff. The look on her face is priceless and I can’t help but laugh. It feels good. I’m feeling better, which is a good thing.

I walk back into the house; breathe a sigh of relief when I see my husband watching TV. I walk into my office. And there is my fourteen-year-old son.


At my computer.

“Oh, I thought you were done?”

Oh, yeah, it’s gonna be a long week. Sigh.

~*~*~*~

• How do YOU handle family distractions when writing or working against deadlines? Care to share some tips?

SNOW DAYS AND WRITING

When I was a kid, snow days were the thing to look forward to. A time for laugher and fun. No school, snowball fights, snow forts, and using the shovels—after we had shoveled the driveway—and making snow paths in the yard. We used these as trenches in our warfare games.

• The not so fun part of snow days was my mom and her list of chores. I now know this was self-defense on her part. It was a way keep six rambunctious kids occupied. Needless to say, we didn’t often whine, “I’m bored and I’ve got nothing to do.” Lord, big mistake and *The List* came out.

Snow days at my house are a bit different. First, I don’t have six kids, thank God, to keep occupied. Back then we stayed outside or found adventures of “lets pretend that…” in our bedroom or the third story attic.

I have one child. Uno only goes so far. Snowboarding outside takes up a few hours, if I’m lucky. Snowball fights still happen but it’s the kid and me. He has TV, movies, 360 Xbox, paper and art supplies, and shelf full of books. I have a computer and projects to get done. Articles to write, books to finish, books to edit. Did I mention editing?

This is a normal workweek for me. I’m trying to keep to my schedule. Four days of no school and a husband who can’t get to work either. It’s vacation time for them. I’m in a groove and I have not one but two housebound males wandering around bored. I am not bored. I have plenty to do. I get up from the computer for a short fifteen-minute break and stretch out my tight muscles, go to the bathroom and get a cup a coffee. My mind is on what I’m writing, working out the kinks mentally, and walk back into my office and there’s my husband checking out Fox Sports. We do have a working TV.

“Oh, I thought you were done?”

I’m dumbfounded. You can tell, dropped jaw, wide eyes, standing frozen in the doorway.

He can tell. “You’re not done?”

“Sweetheart, what part of five open tabs on the computer screen makes you think I’m done?”

I always try for the sweet, reasonable approach first.

So I decide to take out the dog, clear my head in the cold outside air and rid myself of frustration. It’s beautiful outside. The type of day that brings back echoes of laughing kids, snowball fights and snow forts. I feel a pull on the leash and bring my mind back to today just in time to see my poor Great Dane trying to do her business and ever so slowly slide down the incline. This is her second winter and she’s still learning her way on this white stuff. The look on her face is priceless and I can’t help but laugh. It feels good. I’m feeling better, which is a good thing.

I walk back into the house; breathe a sigh of relief when I see my husband watching TV. I walk into my office. And there is my fourteen-year-old son.

At my computer.

“Oh, I thought you were done?”

Oh, yeah, it’s gonna be a long week. Sigh.