Wednesday whine of winter woe

January is the longest month of the year--in the Midwest--as far as I'm concerned. It's the coldest month, and the days fade away in a bleak gray haze. Yes, the days are growing imperceptibly longer, but without any sun in the sunset, it's hard to tell. I huddle in front of the fireplace wallowing in self-pity and remorse and salty snacks. When I look outside at the backyard I feel guilty to see my birdfeeders swinging empty on their poles.

When we first moved into this house, I fed the birds religiously, even throughout the most bitter days of winter. We keep our birdfeeders hanging from a pole in the scrap of woods behind our house, because that's where the birds nest and shelter all year. Why have I ceased to keep the birdfeeders filled during the winter months? I believe it's because of the Hillside of Death.

I don't think my cell phone camera captured the depth or steepness of the hill that our house is built into.

Does it help to see the basement wall of our house on the left?

Anyway, it's a damn steep slope, especially when covered in snow or ice. The first couple years we lived here, it was kind of an amusing Winter Olympic challenge to plow through the snow to get down to the backyard to fill the birdfeeders. I could never discern the depths of the snow drifts, so I never knew when I would plunge up to my knees--or higher--in snow. Getting my legs stuck in the snow and pitching face first into the drifts wasn't pleasant. Getting my legs stuck in the snow and twisting my ankles or knees was less pleasant.

One rather icy winter Meester was heading down the hill with a shovel in his hand. He slipped and rammed the handle of the shovel into his chest. With the wind knocked out of him and in fear of freezing to death, Meester staggered back up the hill and collapsed inside the back door. All he could do was grunt "Ugh, Ugh, Ugh" and weakly tap his chest. I was screaming "Are you having a heart attack?! Should I call 911?!" over and over.

Had he been attacked by Ice Weasels? I checked for signs of blood. Eventually we both figured out he was going to live.

Another icy winter--for some dumb reason--I went down the hill, got the birdfeeders, and brought them back up the hill into the garage to fill them. Usually I just carried a bucket of seed with me when I went down to the feeders. On my trip back down the hill, I slipped and fell--on the birdfeeders. OUCH!

Why don't I move the pole and birdfeeders up to the top of the yard for the winter? Because I am lazy the pole is anchored firmly into the ground down there. Why don't I buy another pole for the top of the yard? Because I never think of it until the first snow has fallen and I am lazy. Bad me. Poor birdies.

A sobering moment

image courtesy of FromOldBooks.org

In the midway of this our mortal life,
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray.....
~Dante's Inferno - Canto I

We had a sobering moment last week. I really wish this post was just about not indulging in too many adult beverages, but it isn't.

We have a retired neighbor couple "Mr. J" and "Mrs. J". We've lived near them for about 11 years. Like most middle-aged and retired couples, we and the "Js" like to spend a lot of time puttering in our yards and gardens...pausing to wander over to each others yards to chat about weeds and flowers and garden pests. For the first 5 years we lived here, we were on the neighborhood Landscape committee, of which Mr. J was the chairman. He always hosted the committee meetings at his house, and Mrs. J provided refreshments and thoughtful landscaping suggestions. For several years, Mr. J promoted a "Neighborhood Cleanup and Landscape Planting" weekend event.....which consisted mostly of Mr. J, Mrs. J, Meester, me, and a few other couples picking up litter and planting flowers around our subdivision.

Over the last several years, Mr. J has declined in health and cognitive abilities. In the beginning, Mrs. J told us the doctors seemed unable to pinpoint exactly what was causing Mr. J's decline, and we haven't wanted to press for medical details. We could see for ourselves that Mr. J was barely able to walk in the yard this past fall and had difficulty engaging in conversation.

We didn't realize how grim Mr. J's situation had become until one afternoon last week. Mrs. J had gone down to their basement to do some housekeeping tasks, leaving Mr. J asleep in his wheelchair. (We did not know Mr. J now uses a wheelchair.)

When Mrs. J came upstairs to check on Mr. J, she felt a cold draft of air and realized in horror that the front door was open. Mr. J had woken from his nap and somehow managed to get up from his wheelchair and make his way to the front door. None of us can believe he found the strength and ability to pull open the front door and the screen door and make his way outside. He had crossed the narrow front porch and pitched headlong into a snow bank beside the house. For once, I can be grateful for snow and the cushion it made for Mr. J's fall.

The temperature combined with the wind chill outside was almost -10 degrees Fahrenheit! Thankfully it wasn't long before Mrs. J found Mr. J, but she was unable to lift him to bring him inside. She called our house because Meester usually works at home and was the nearest man likely to be home. Fortunately, Meester was there to rush over and help carry Mr. J back into the house.

It is sobering to see that life has been unfair to such a nice couple. Mr. J always had a twinkle in his eyes and a droll sense of humor. One summer our neighborhood was overrun with moles tunneling everywhere. Several of us were out in our backyards futilely stomping down mole tunnels and wondering why our lawns had been invaded. Mr. J said "I've read that male moles will tunnel for miles during mating season to find females. Horny little bastards!" It was a pretty funny comment coming from a retired gentleman like Mr. J.

Now age?, illness?, what?, has taken Mr. J from the simple pleasures of a stroll in the garden and witty chatter with neighbors. It's too simple and trite to make this a morality lesson to "live each day as if it were your last". I just feel sad.

What I've been doing, or not.....

My office was closed Monday in observance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, which gave me 3 days off from work. It was an odd three days. You know how weird you feel when you have things all planned, and then nothing goes as planned, and you just end up wondering what happened to the time, like were you in some time warp or something?

Saturday I didn't know what I wanted for lunch, so I filled a bowl with Erin Baker's Double Chocolate Chunk granola and milk, then microwaved it till hot and threw some dried banana chips on top. Yummy hot chocolate that's good for you!

It was especially good after those apple cider donuts for breakfast. Nothing like a power breakfast and power lunch!

Sunday we attended a funeral visitation for a friend's father who had been a Mennonite farmer. Along the highway we passed several buggies with their horses at a fine trot heading to the funeral home. I felt weak and pathetic riding in my car with heated seats.

Monday it snowed.

And there was freezing rain, too.

And more snow.

Yes, that's Meester in the background with the shovel - putting the finishing touches on his snow blowing job. Yes, I helped shovel, too...although I mostly wandered around taking pictures with my iPhone camera.

Then I went inside and made cocoa and I don't know why, but I decided to use some pretty holiday tissue paper to line the drawers where I keep my underwear. Can you see the pretty vanilla-colored swirl design?

Oh, and I changed my Blogger template too. I'm still working on it. I can't get all the colors right...maybe because this wasn't on my list of things I had planned.....

A fine fruity mess I got myself into

Should I be filled with joy or despair that there are so many things in my life that I have not yet experienced?

For example, I have enjoyed pomegranate juice, but I had never opened a pomegranate to get out the lovely little ruby arils (the seeds, I think?) I finally bought a pomegranate, and just left it sitting on my kitchen counter for a long time, just so I could admire its opulent red color and sensuous curves.

image from Google, not my kitchen

I finally decide that it was time to ravage this beautiful fruit to get out the little arils, which are supposed to be loaded with vitamins & antioxidants.

What is beige and red all over?
My kitchen, after opening that *@#! pomegranate!

I guess the most worthy prize is the one that is most difficult to obtain. Those little arils tasted like a red rainbow of sunshine. It was like eating precious ruby jewels.

Why does there always have to be a little agony thrown in with the ecstasy?

P.S. I should add that a little instruction brochure came with my pomegranate. I followed instructions and it was still messy. That would explain the latest pomegranate product, which I will be buying next time.

Who's broken their New Year's resolutions already?

Me!!!
My resolution for 2011 was to not be so obsessive-compulsive about house cleaning. Being slightly "punch-drunk" from being up so late on New Year's Eve (sadly, midnight is not my finest hour anymore), I reeled around the house on New Year's Day looking for little OC projects to do so I wouldn't fall asleep. I decided to clear the Christmas cards off the kitchen counter, and then I decided that I simply must dust and rearrange my bowl of wooden fruit.

Well, the fruit only gets dusted once a year, and it was so furry with dust that it looked like moldy real fruit. Years (decades really) ago, my mother and my two sisters got seriously into collecting wooden fruit. For several years, we gifted pieces of wooden fruit at Christmas time. The wooden fruit may not be exactly my decorating style, but looking at that wooden fruit brings memories of being with my mom and sisters and trips together to gift shops to discover some new pieces of wooden fruit to buy.

And look how clean my counter is now!

Why, yes, that is a Christmas tablecloth in the background, and I am on my way to put it in the washing machine right now.....