Yesterday it melted outside big time! Water running in the streets. Elizabeth and I measure each day's height of snow along our driveway. And yes, I chop a little ice in the gutter by the catch basin to hasten the flow of water. (I did that back when I was a kid . . . and convinced myself that it "helped Spring come sooner.")
Here is a poem.
spring will come when . . .
the heavy, sweet scent
of clove currant wakes
the neighborhood
fiddlehead ferns slowly rush
through leaf-covered dirt
toward light
I touch fuzzy,
ground-loving, purple,
wild ginger flower
I hear the
coo of a dove.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Friday, March 7, 2014
The Sport of Snirt-kicking
Folks who live in the Upper Midwest have a variety of winter sports, to which they turn, in order to survive long winters. There is skiing - both downhill and cross-country. Others snowshoe. Some people roar through the woods and across frozen lakes in snowmobiles. There is curling, hockey, and ice-skating.
Ice-fishing is another popular sport, though it is questionable how sitting in one place for hours staring at a hole in the ice can be called a sport. Drinking beer may be an alternative agenda for some of the guys. (Some of the fancier fish houses are equipped with TV's). The more hardy might take the polar plunge, jumping into frigid water through a hole cut in a lake's ice. (They don't stay in the water long). All of this after shoveling our walks and driveways.
As winter ages from February into March, snirt-kicking goes into high gear. For the uninitiated, who live in places like Los Angeles, snirt is the accumulation of dirty snow, road salt, and gravel that collects in the wheel-wells behind car tires. If left unattended, snirt is likely to drop off in your garage or even inhibit turning the front wheels of your car.
Thus, snirt-kicking has become a much loved winter sport. When you get out of your car, in a parking lot of course, since snirt belongs to everyone and you wouldn't want to hoard it, you walk around your car. With a deft kick, you take aim at the accumulated snirt. If done correctly, it will fall off beneath your car. Then you have the pleasure of backing over it, increasing the packed snow and ice that covers most parking spaces.
You do what you have to do to survive winter.
Ice-fishing is another popular sport, though it is questionable how sitting in one place for hours staring at a hole in the ice can be called a sport. Drinking beer may be an alternative agenda for some of the guys. (Some of the fancier fish houses are equipped with TV's). The more hardy might take the polar plunge, jumping into frigid water through a hole cut in a lake's ice. (They don't stay in the water long). All of this after shoveling our walks and driveways.
As winter ages from February into March, snirt-kicking goes into high gear. For the uninitiated, who live in places like Los Angeles, snirt is the accumulation of dirty snow, road salt, and gravel that collects in the wheel-wells behind car tires. If left unattended, snirt is likely to drop off in your garage or even inhibit turning the front wheels of your car.
Thus, snirt-kicking has become a much loved winter sport. When you get out of your car, in a parking lot of course, since snirt belongs to everyone and you wouldn't want to hoard it, you walk around your car. With a deft kick, you take aim at the accumulated snirt. If done correctly, it will fall off beneath your car. Then you have the pleasure of backing over it, increasing the packed snow and ice that covers most parking spaces.
You do what you have to do to survive winter.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
OUR MARDI GRAS PARADE . . .
No kidding . . . Elizabeth and I were actually in an official Mardi Gras Parade in Mobile, Alabama! We had gone on a road trip to "find spring" somewhere south. (It sure was not spring here in Minnesota.) We loaded up all our stuff into our blue Honda Odyssey van and took off and headed to southern Texas. We arrived and found a motel. The next morning the weather report alert announced that a tornado was developing near by. So we beat it out of there. By the time the tornado had petered out we were traveling along the Gulf Coast and eventually found ourself in Mobile, Alabama.
Ah . . . it was spring! There was some kind of a parade starting to form along Mobile's main drag. Always curious, we started to drive closer to the action and, somehow got caught within the barriers set up for a parade route. All the side streets had been blocked off and there were people everywhere sitting in lawn chairs and on blankets. And . . . the plethora of elaborate floats. (I just wanted to use that "plethora" word.)
There was no way we could leave the parade route! We were in the parade and couldn't leave (even if we wanted to) and so we went with the flow along the whole way in our blue Honda Odyssey with all our stuff. We waved and waved to the crowds who probably wondered what celebrities we were.
We thought Mardi Gras was something celebrated in New Orleans - not across the south, silly northerners we are.
Ah . . . it was spring! There was some kind of a parade starting to form along Mobile's main drag. Always curious, we started to drive closer to the action and, somehow got caught within the barriers set up for a parade route. All the side streets had been blocked off and there were people everywhere sitting in lawn chairs and on blankets. And . . . the plethora of elaborate floats. (I just wanted to use that "plethora" word.)
There was no way we could leave the parade route! We were in the parade and couldn't leave (even if we wanted to) and so we went with the flow along the whole way in our blue Honda Odyssey with all our stuff. We waved and waved to the crowds who probably wondered what celebrities we were.
We thought Mardi Gras was something celebrated in New Orleans - not across the south, silly northerners we are.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
WISTFUL THINKING IN A WORLD OF WHITE
It has been much too long of a winter of white. When will it be over?
For Pete's Sake anyway . . . what does a person expect when they choose
to live in Minnesota, the "land of 10,003 1/2 ice dams?
Sure, I still get out in the deep snow (it snowed another 8 inches again the
other night.) I play in the snow by shoveling off the back deck and the front
walk. I use the long roof rake on the eaves and gutters. And, this morning I
fired up our brand-new, bright red, electric-start, Honda HS520A Snowthrower.
(We call this new machine "Snow Pup the Second" after our over-35-year-old,
red Honda-Snow Pup which breathed its last earlier this week.) We tried to
have it repaired . . . but the shop said too many things were wrong and some
of the needed parts were not even available anymore.
Then I had this brilliant idea to go across the road in front of our house and blow
out the snow drifts from behind our neighbor's cars before they realized it had
snowed so much that they wouldn't be able to get to work. (There was another
reason I plowed our neighbor's driveway . . . Last night, we returned with our
just-purchased snow blower lashed down into our Honda's tiny trunk. Our neighbor
saw us get embarrassingly stuck trying to get into our driveway (with the new
Honda HS520A Snowthrower precariously hanging out of our trunk) -and
promptly came over with his shovel and dug us out.
Even though this new machine is a welcome member in our family . . . we sure
do miss our old Snow Pup.
For Pete's Sake anyway . . . what does a person expect when they choose
to live in Minnesota, the "land of 10,003 1/2 ice dams?
Sure, I still get out in the deep snow (it snowed another 8 inches again the
other night.) I play in the snow by shoveling off the back deck and the front
walk. I use the long roof rake on the eaves and gutters. And, this morning I
fired up our brand-new, bright red, electric-start, Honda HS520A Snowthrower.
(We call this new machine "Snow Pup the Second" after our over-35-year-old,
red Honda-Snow Pup which breathed its last earlier this week.) We tried to
have it repaired . . . but the shop said too many things were wrong and some
of the needed parts were not even available anymore.
Then I had this brilliant idea to go across the road in front of our house and blow
out the snow drifts from behind our neighbor's cars before they realized it had
snowed so much that they wouldn't be able to get to work. (There was another
reason I plowed our neighbor's driveway . . . Last night, we returned with our
just-purchased snow blower lashed down into our Honda's tiny trunk. Our neighbor
saw us get embarrassingly stuck trying to get into our driveway (with the new
Honda HS520A Snowthrower precariously hanging out of our trunk) -and
promptly came over with his shovel and dug us out.
Even though this new machine is a welcome member in our family . . . we sure
do miss our old Snow Pup.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Rain on Our Parade, Will You?
What do you do when you'd like to grumble, when you have no right to complain? I was all set to write a short piece about several of injustices currently in the news.
On the political left, the American Humanist Association complained about a local school that went to - gasp - a church to pack food for the Feed my Children program, a way to teach children about giving to others. The Association did not want innocent children exposed to a "theologically-charged" environment. Now I have been in many a church hall or basement where such activities occur, and if these are "theologically-charged," I am an insensitive lout for not noticing all the theology floating around in the air. These spaces have as much to do with theology as a school gym.
On the political right, people have voiced objections in a series of letters to the editor about the idea that children should be fed a hot lunch at school whether their families can afford the 40 cents a day or not. It seems schools around the state have been literally taking trays out of the hands of children - in front of other children and throwing the food in the trash - when the children do not have the money.As one person asked: why am I responsible for feeding my neighbors children - if they don't have the money, let them starve.
So much for the Golden Rule.And taking care of each other rather than hoarding one's little pot of gold. It's Scrooge all over again. A petty version of the growing disparity between those who have wealth and those who do not.
Then my husband discovered our water heater is leaking - on Valentine's Day no less. The water heater is over 17 years old, so who are we to complain. Because we are comfortable financially, the credit card takes care of the problem, just like that. And we have a brand-new water heater. No cold showers for us as we save up our pennies for a new one.
But it did not mean the two of us did not get to go out for lunch and make eyes at each other over the table.
So I felt like grumbling. Despite the fact that we had it replaced within hours of discovering the problem. Despite our having a warm and cozy home, when others have lost their homes due to foreclosure - with some of them now living on the streets. Despite our living in a place where war has not driven us into refugee camps to mourn the deaths of our families. Where the idea of a hot lunch for small children is beyond imagination.
But I still felt grumbly inside instead of gratitude.
How dare you rain on my Valentine's Day Parade! When I have so much for which to be thankful.
On the political left, the American Humanist Association complained about a local school that went to - gasp - a church to pack food for the Feed my Children program, a way to teach children about giving to others. The Association did not want innocent children exposed to a "theologically-charged" environment. Now I have been in many a church hall or basement where such activities occur, and if these are "theologically-charged," I am an insensitive lout for not noticing all the theology floating around in the air. These spaces have as much to do with theology as a school gym.
On the political right, people have voiced objections in a series of letters to the editor about the idea that children should be fed a hot lunch at school whether their families can afford the 40 cents a day or not. It seems schools around the state have been literally taking trays out of the hands of children - in front of other children and throwing the food in the trash - when the children do not have the money.As one person asked: why am I responsible for feeding my neighbors children - if they don't have the money, let them starve.
So much for the Golden Rule.And taking care of each other rather than hoarding one's little pot of gold. It's Scrooge all over again. A petty version of the growing disparity between those who have wealth and those who do not.
Then my husband discovered our water heater is leaking - on Valentine's Day no less. The water heater is over 17 years old, so who are we to complain. Because we are comfortable financially, the credit card takes care of the problem, just like that. And we have a brand-new water heater. No cold showers for us as we save up our pennies for a new one.
But it did not mean the two of us did not get to go out for lunch and make eyes at each other over the table.
So I felt like grumbling. Despite the fact that we had it replaced within hours of discovering the problem. Despite our having a warm and cozy home, when others have lost their homes due to foreclosure - with some of them now living on the streets. Despite our living in a place where war has not driven us into refugee camps to mourn the deaths of our families. Where the idea of a hot lunch for small children is beyond imagination.
But I still felt grumbly inside instead of gratitude.
How dare you rain on my Valentine's Day Parade! When I have so much for which to be thankful.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
E A R T H W O R M S A N D V A L E N T I N E ' S D A Y
I seem to know quite a bit about earthworms. Lumbricus terrestris is the Latin name for the common nightcrawler. It isn't native to North America but was introduced from Europe. Lubricus is one of the animals that was commonly directed in college zoology labs to learn about basic organs of invertebrates. At least it was when I was taking my first comparative zoology classes in the late 50's.
It is early February, and already I'm thinking of VALENTINE'S DAY and earthworms. I know that earthworms have five (5) hearts and that its esophagus passes through those five aortic arches. I think that is very cool. I remember that old saying that "the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." That was a long time before I had learned about earthworms.
Speaking of hearts and Valentine's Day . . . I love my sweetheart Elizabeth with every beat of my heart. It is time to scour the greeting card aisle of local stores for just the perfect card for the special day! I am somewhat hesitant to look for the "just right" card when there are others in the aisle as I most often cry a little (just a little whimper) as I read over the various verses. I try to time it so there are at least two other "whimperers" in the aisle as well. That way the store manager leaves us alone to our card selection ritual.
Elizabeth has had some difficulty in reaching down to put on her street shoes and lace them up. So I help tie them. I am so grateful that I can do this - and hope to do it for a long time.
I'm sure glad she isn't a millipede.
It is early February, and already I'm thinking of VALENTINE'S DAY and earthworms. I know that earthworms have five (5) hearts and that its esophagus passes through those five aortic arches. I think that is very cool. I remember that old saying that "the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." That was a long time before I had learned about earthworms.
Speaking of hearts and Valentine's Day . . . I love my sweetheart Elizabeth with every beat of my heart. It is time to scour the greeting card aisle of local stores for just the perfect card for the special day! I am somewhat hesitant to look for the "just right" card when there are others in the aisle as I most often cry a little (just a little whimper) as I read over the various verses. I try to time it so there are at least two other "whimperers" in the aisle as well. That way the store manager leaves us alone to our card selection ritual.
Elizabeth has had some difficulty in reaching down to put on her street shoes and lace them up. So I help tie them. I am so grateful that I can do this - and hope to do it for a long time.
I'm sure glad she isn't a millipede.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Minnesota Fat Cat Texts a Message
Not having hearing from Minnesota Fat Cat in some time, I grew concerned. (As you recall, he is Minnesota's own official Groundhog). I paced the floor, wondering what I should do.
It has been a brutal winter with huge snowbanks piled everywhere. I wasn't sure how he would manage to climb out of his hole and climb further to gain sufficient altitude to do his yearly patriotic duty. After all, he has put on a bit of weight.
After all, today IS Groundhog's Day!
My cell phone buzzed as I was pondering my options. Fat Cat had sent a text!
He said: U R crazy if you think I'm going to climb out to check my shadow on this sunny day. I do watch the Weather Channel U know. Obvious to every *%#^@% there is much winter ahead. Well I thought - you don't need to get huffy about it. And February is your day in the sun - or other weather phenomena.
Relieved that he was his usual self, I set my phone aside.
Then it buzzed again. Another message from Minnesota Fat Cat, saying: GO AWAY. Am busy getting ready to watch the Super B. (I understand only official sponsors can use the B-word). Comfy couch front and center of TV. A six-pack, large bowl of buttered popcorn, salsa, chips, and little microwave thingies. Gotta cheer on my team. Go Broncos go!
Well, I'm certainly not about to disturb a grouchy groundhog. Or take him away from his pleasures in life. Although I was a bit surprised by his cheering the Broncos. Must be the Manning factor. Or is it because he is leery of real life sea hawks swooping down from the sky and sinking their talons into some poor groundhog.
One never knows how a groundhog's mind works. Especially one who knows how to text.
It has been a brutal winter with huge snowbanks piled everywhere. I wasn't sure how he would manage to climb out of his hole and climb further to gain sufficient altitude to do his yearly patriotic duty. After all, he has put on a bit of weight.
After all, today IS Groundhog's Day!
My cell phone buzzed as I was pondering my options. Fat Cat had sent a text!
He said: U R crazy if you think I'm going to climb out to check my shadow on this sunny day. I do watch the Weather Channel U know. Obvious to every *%#^@% there is much winter ahead. Well I thought - you don't need to get huffy about it. And February is your day in the sun - or other weather phenomena.
Relieved that he was his usual self, I set my phone aside.
Then it buzzed again. Another message from Minnesota Fat Cat, saying: GO AWAY. Am busy getting ready to watch the Super B. (I understand only official sponsors can use the B-word). Comfy couch front and center of TV. A six-pack, large bowl of buttered popcorn, salsa, chips, and little microwave thingies. Gotta cheer on my team. Go Broncos go!
Well, I'm certainly not about to disturb a grouchy groundhog. Or take him away from his pleasures in life. Although I was a bit surprised by his cheering the Broncos. Must be the Manning factor. Or is it because he is leery of real life sea hawks swooping down from the sky and sinking their talons into some poor groundhog.
One never knows how a groundhog's mind works. Especially one who knows how to text.
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