Executive Changeover

            He spun his chair slowly and looked out the window on the darkened world, an almost empty glass of champagne in his hand.  He could see light snow falling.  Nuisance snow was what drivers called it, enough to make roads wet and slippery once it began to accumulate even a little.  But, he never saw it that way, never had to deal with it that way.  He just got to enjoy watching it fall.  He leaned back in the chair, his feet braced against the sill of the panoramic view of the window behind him in a rare moment of relaxation in his final days.  While he continued to look beyond the glass to the outside, he couldn’t help but see his own reflection as well.  His face was wrinkled, his hair white with age, his body left less than perfect by the passage of time.  A definite change from when he first entered this office.  But his expression showed tired satisfaction as he reflected back on his tenure for a few more moments before the door behind him burst open.

            “That’s it!” the young man bellowed.  “Clean out your desk, pack your box, you’re done!”

            “Hallelujah,” the man quietly said with a smile just before finishing off his drink.  As he turned to face his proclaimer of the obvious, he asked, “Is my replacement here?”

            “On his way in as we speak,” the younger man replied, an intuitive twinkle in his eyes.  He knew the old man was ready to go and was honored to have the duty of being his final escort.  He looked around the room in quick inspection.  It was as it should be, everything in its place, in order and ready for his successor.  Everything except for one item.  He cocked his head in puzzled amusement as he looked at the handwritten “Out of Order” sign on the coffeemaker.  As he looked closer at it, he saw that the metal pad under the pot was blackened and pot itself was cracked.

            “What happened?” he inquired.

            “Ran it into the ground,” the old man replied.  “Lots of long hours.  He’s not going to need it first thing and  deserves a new one, anyway.”

            “Yes, he does,” the younger man agreed as he sat down in the chair in front of the desk.  “At least you didn’t trash the place before you left.  Some do.”

            “Not my style, “ the executive replied, then pointed to the coatrack and added, “Oh, and speaking of style, I’m not wearing that out the door.  I don’t care if it is tradition.” 

            The young man looked back and saw the ceremonial garb, tattered and grey, looking more like a dust-rag than a garment befitting the rank.  He was a little disappointed by the choice, but gave a conceding shake of his head and admitted , “It’s not required.”

            “Good,” the man said, then stood up and prepared to get another glass so that he could share his final celebratory drink with his visitor.  The younger man protested, saying that he should be pouring for the administrator, not the other way around.  The old man graciously smiled.

            “I’ve been catered to for my entire time here, barely able to do anything for myself,” he explained.  “Let me perform this last cordial gesture.”

            As he walked over to get a second champagne flute, the younger man couldn’t help but notice the changes in the older man since he had seen him last.  While he knew the exuberance was still there, most of the executive’s vitality had left him.  The job had taken its toll.  It was normal to see and sense with each changeover.  While this was always a joyous time, the younger man couldn’t help but always feel a twinge of sadness in these final moments.  He then brightened and asked, “So, any observations you’d care to share?”

            “It was interesting,” the white-haired man replied as he poured the two drinks, then looked to the man in mock puzzlement and asked, “Have you heard that one before?”

            “A few times,” his visitor replied.  “Good interesting or bad interesting?”

            “A good mix of both,” the executive responded philosophically as he returned with the champagne and gave one glass to his escort. 

            “Regrets?” was the next question.

            “Not really,” the old man responded.  “Some of the actions I had to take seemed to be cruel and without explanation and some cursed my name in these last few days without understanding the true nature of this position.” 

            “But conversely,” the other man pointed out, “Other actions were greeted with incredible happiness and were bestowed without consideration of person or their place in things.  Some might call it arbitrary …”

            “But, it’s never arbitrary,” the old man said in unison with his final visitor, then added, “There are always certainties, but they don’t always see how their choices impact on even the most seemingly written in stone moments.”  He then looked out on the falling snow.  “I always tried to soften my blows when I had to be less than kind in my actions.  But more often than not, the impact was the same.”  He looked back at the younger man with a gentle smile and concluded, “I guess that would be my one regret.”

            “Nature of the beast,” the young man said.  The executive gave him a mildly surprised look, which brought further explanation.  “The position calls for everything you described and more.  You don’t know that coming in, but you learn it as time goes by.”

            “Oh, this has definitely been an on the job training experience,” the old man observed, making the younger man smile.

            “Some handle what’s required in stride, others – well, they destroy the place out of frustration with what’s necessary.  You have handled this with wisdom and grace and it’s been an honor to be your guide through this year.”  The young man raised his glass and toasted, “To a job well done and well handled.”

            “I’ll bet you say that to everyone,” the old man joked as the glasses clinked together.

            “A select few get the accolades. Sir.”

            “I even get a ‘Sir’,” the old man said jokingly.  “Considering I’m not the most senior in the room, that is indeed a compliment.”

            They both took a sip of the champagne.  The old man closed his eyes and savored this last shimmering taste before downing the contents of the crystal flute.  The other man also quickly consumed the liquid, then prepared to smash the glass into the ornate fireplace off to the side of the room.  But the white-haired man stopped him.

            “Somebody’s going to have to clean that up before he gets here,” he said, taking both glasses and placing them carefully on the front of the desk.  “Let them have a few minutes without work before the new regime.”

            “They’re all waiting to say goodbye,” the escort said with a smile.  “Are you ready?”

            “I am,” the executive replied. 

The young man nodded in acknowledgment , then asked, “So, what are you wearing if you’re not wearing ‘that’?”, pointing a thumb toward the rejected article of clothing.  The old man thought about it, then smiled and raised his hands to show the slight tattering at the end of the sleeves of the once pristine tailored shirt he wore.

“Frayed cuffs,” he replied, then showed off similar wear on the trousers over slightly worn wingtips.  “And scuffed shoes.  As accurate a testimony of the job as the robes.”

 “Indeed,” the other man said.  He then saw the weariness increase in his protégé, smiled, and waved him on to the door.  The executive gathered his strength and composure and walked out of his office for the last time.

The staff which had served him so well during his time there lined the hallway to the elevator and each said their goodbyes as he passed by them and thanked them for their help and care.  Most smiled, but there was one who didn’t who caught his eye.  She looked down as he approached and he knew why.  Some of the actions he had to take had touched her life and hurt her.  He stopped and waited for her to look up at him, but she wouldn’t.  He then gently lifted her chin with his hand and she looked at him through tears.

He felt the pain she felt, relived the events which caused it.  He wanted to apologize, but knew it would have no meaning for her.  He gently smiled as he withdrew his hand and said, “It gets better.”

The young woman, knowing his place in things, asked simply, “How do you know?”

Well, there was a question.  That was beyond his tenure, so how would he know?  With a puzzled look, he turned to his escort, who smiled in silent response.  The executive then understood and replied, “I don’t know how, I just do.”  This brought a small smile to the woman, who took some comfort in this prediction.  This in turn brought him a final satisfaction with the job he had done, and he continued on his journey down the hallway.

As they approached the elevator, the doors opened and he saw his successor, who smiled and gave a small happy shriek at seeing him.  The old man tried to echo it in comradery, but it lacked the genuine vitality of his young replacement.  As he and his escort entered the elevator and the infant crawled out, he reached down and patted him on the head and whispered, “All the best.”  He turned and watched as his replacement instinctively headed for what was his office.  As the door closed, he added, “Sorry about the coffee pot.  They’ll get you a new one.  You’re going to need it.”

The escort chuckled at this last remark, which made the old man smile.  Again, the weariness caught up with him, but he recovered once more.  The two then rode in silence as the elevator made its descent and the old man relived his year of life in all its wonder.  So much had happened in those days and he grew up very quickly, able to manage and make the decisions, both good and bad, which were required of all who sat in that chair.  He reflected again on the question of whether he had any regrets and he decided that, ultimately, he really had none.  He was proud of his time in the office and his escort knew this as well.

As the doors opened, the two were greeted by the sounds of horns and bells, of people yelling and singing outside.  The escort opened the door to the outside world and the chilly air of the midnight hour caught the old man by surprise.  But, his escort was ready and he reached over and grabbed a long grey coat of the finest cashmere and helped the executive put it on, who couldn’t help but joke, “You’re really into the symbolism of the grey garb, aren’t you?”

“I’m allowed,” the man answered.  “Ready?”

“Yes,” the old man replied.  He then looked appreciatively at his guide through the year and said, “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you.  You truly did an excellent job.”

The old man nodded at this last compliment, then asked, “So, Father Time, where do I go from here?”

“Into history, 2015,” replied the legend with a cordial smile. “Into history.”

With these last instructions, the old man walked out and vanished into the night as his successor crawled up into the chair and looked out the window on the darkened world.

On Flying Solo on Thanksgiving

I am stuffed past the food fill line this evening.  My Thanksgiving feast was more than bountiful for the one person it fed and there will be leftovers into next week, to be sure.

Yes, I said one person.  It’s been just me since 1998.  That was the year my mom passed away.  The first two Thanksgivings, I chose to be alone with my grief and memories of Thanksgivings past.  After that, I didn’t have enough money to make the trip to be with any family member until 2009, and after declining invitations for the first two years, no one was invited me after that because they thought I wanted to be alone on the holidays.  Volunteering for various activities on the day didn’t work out well, either, and I’ve been a solo act on the day for the past 17 years.

Don’t feel sorry for me.  It did ultimately become a choice.  I like the whole planning and cooking thing of the day, but my home isn’t exactly company friendly.  I’m not insisting cooking alone, but I have yet to find a friend who’ll either let me have a portion of their kitchen or at least let me do more than bring a side-dish, a dessert or a bottle of wine.  Never ask me to bring wine, by the way – I don’t drink and therefore know little of what’s good and what goes with what.

So, it was just me at the table on this fourth Thursday of November again.  For the very first time, I roasted turkey breast on the grill.  I read up on how to cook it by the indirect heat method and I had moist, smoky and flavorful turkey, carcinogenic aspects of such a method aside.  For the first time, I made dressing in the slow cooker, with enough vegetables in it to be at a 1:1 ratio with the bread.  Mighty good stuff it was, too.  The cranberry sauce was store bought as usual.  I like the smooth jellied sauce that Ocean Spray® does so well.  It’s comfort condiment – sue me.  Finally, the pumpkin pie was also store-bought, but it’s the first time ever.  Last minute decision.  Last time, too.  Aside from the fact that store-bought never has enough spice for my tastes, I’ve rediscovered how much I don’t like pie crust.  I’ve been making the pumpkin filling as a standalone item for years and never missed the crust.  Back to my dessert tradition next year.

Before I sat down, I engaged in another annual tradition – I raised my glass in toast.  I toasted family who had passed away and family still here but far away.  I toasted friends, some also departed, some old and some new.  I then gave thanks for what I have, as bountiful or meager as it may be, and for the fact that I am still here and able to make a contribution to this world, as meager as I might perceive it to be.

I believe that I will once more play planner, chef and hostess to more than myself on this and other days.  For now, though, I will continue as a solo act and try to keep my skills sharp.  I know I’m not the only one eating alone by choice, but I also know that there are many who are alone on this day or far away from home and don’t really chose to be.  These are the ones to open hearts to.  We all forget that sometimes – even me.

Veterans' Day

I detest war.  This human race has gone to war over the silliest of things at times in its history and the devastation that's left in war's wake, both in the short and the long term, can regularly make us wonder what we were thinking.

But, I have not and will never detest the soldiers who fight those wars.  They served our country when it called for them to be there.  Sometimes stationed stateside, sometimes stationed elsewhere.  Sometimes in combat, sometimes in waiting, sometimes in support of those further up the line.  But, ultimately, they served US.  They were there for those left behind waiting for their return and for our way of life, as imperfect as it may be or seem.

You can wonder why we got involved in the world wars and in the world's wars after those.  You can question and protest our involvement in any and all conflicts in which our country has become involved.  But, never EVER question or protest the ones sent to war.  Our presently serving military and our veterans have shown loyalty, honor and a sense of duty that should never be denied, downplayed, or insulted.  With or without medals, with or without visible or silent scars, they are all heroes.

To W. Dale Swartzmiller, my grandfather who served in the U.S. Navy during World War I,
To James Swartzmiller, my father who served in the U.S. Army during World War II,
To Shawn Swartzmiller, my brother who served in the U.S. Army during the Vietnam War,
To Ethan Swartzmiller, my nephew who served in the U.S. Marines during the ongoing conflicts in the Middle East,

and to all veterans of all the military branches of all wars and conflicts, a huge thank you from little ole me.

Ah-Choo, Sniffle-Snuffle

Every year about this time, I get a cold.  It’s almost like a rite of passage that must be endured in order for the immune system to handle the winter season at its best.  Once it’s over, I’m good until next year about this time.  Unfortunately, getting there is not half the fun. 

It’s starts as a sore throat which makes me sound kind of gravelly and sexy for about a day before I start making those little coughing and sniffling sounds that make anyone on the other end of a phone glad they’re not in the same room with me and those who share my space wish they were anyplace else.  Along with a head that feels like its painfully overfilled with wadded cotton, there's also lots of sneezing from a stuffy, runny nose – who would have thought that stuffy and runny could so happily coexist?  It’s the only time of the year I have to buy Kleenex in those pretty decorator boxes that don’t make me feel any better to look at or use them.  Eventually, the sneezing and clearing of throat turn to full-out coughing, and I can bark with the best of the seals – go ahead, throw me a fish.

I may or may not have body aches and a low-grade fever, although if I do, guaranteed I’m cranky, which turns to a cranky and whiny combo as the cold progresses.  No, I’m not good at being sick.  My infirmed persona is likely enough to make any prospective love of my life think twice before getting involved with me.  Okay, that’s not the only reason, but seriously, one practically needs the patience of Job for about the middle 48 hours of the total 120-150 hours that the cold runs its course.  Best bet is just to leave me alone with lots of fluids, ibuprofen, and whatever other cold symptom remedies I might need demand. 

It mercifully starts to subside around Day 4 and I’m back to being my normal sounding sweet self in no time.  I’ll even be nice and not tease those around me who are now getting sick, possibly the result of contact with me during the contagious phase which started even before the first throat tickle.

There are a number of viruses which cause the illness we call the common cold, but for some reason once I’ve had one, I seem to be stay healthy and immune from all of them for the rest of the cold and flu season.  Yes, I do get the flu shot now, but that doesn’t protect against every sniffling, sneezing, coughing, sore throat making microorganism out there.  I wash my hands, use hand sanitizer, cough and sneeze into my sleeve as much as I can, and can only hope that all those around me will do the same. 

In the meantime, I can only apologize to those who must be around me while I’m working on my one and only cold this season.  I’ll try to be good and not get on your last nerve, but remember – you’ve been warned.

Halloween Silliness

Walking Companion – Poetry for a Sunday Night

Walking Companion

My staff called me today

It needed to feel the earth

Instead of the floor

of the corner

where it quietly waited

And so we walked

Into the woods

Among the trees and their falling leaves

And we felt the earth beneath us

Instead of the floor

We wandered meandering paths

Up and down

There and back

Leaving behind civilization for a time

Surrounded by nature’s majesty

Simpler sounds silenced mental clamor

Peace and joy returned

And on the walk home

I thanked my staff for calling me

To feel the earth once more

                                                                        © 10/11/2015 Lauren Swartzmiller

Countdown to Fall – The Final Entry

The autumnal equinox began in the early morning hours today.  The sun rose and the day looked just like yesterday.  Well, that's the thing about seasons changing. They generally don't look, sound, smell and feel what we remember them to be until a few weeks in.

Since I began writing this short series the day before Labor Day, the sun has traveled a little more southward and is a little lower in the sky.  The south window in my main room is now getting direct sunlight, something it hasn't gotten since, well, March.  Our little bit of Sol, which is another name for our sun, rises later and sets earlier by almost 15 minutes each way now.  The days are cooler and will continue to cool and soon we'll start to bundle up in warmer clothes. Well, here in New York, anyway.

I thank all those who have been following the series.  It's gratifying to know that my inane musings in the theme of the change of seasons have been at least a little readable.

So, even if the world around you doesn't look like fall, perhaps never looks like the fall in the picture above, here in the Northern Hemisphere, it has arrived. Get out there and enjoy the day.

Countdown to Fall–The Final Observations of Summer

And so, as the sun sets on the final full day of summer, even though I can’t see it because it’s been cloudy all day, the sights I’ve seen show that, while things are still mostly green in my area, the summer solstice is definitely losing its grip on our physical reality.

It isn’t just the color changes which are slowly overtaking the shrubs and trees.  Plants which were thriving in the late summer have now matured and are dying back, some with roots that will survive to send up growth next year and some which have dropped seeds to begin again.  In their place, the fall asters, goldenrod, late morning glories and the like are giving us color which will also fade in a matter of weeks.  For those who mow, you probably have noticed and are thrilled that your lawn or experimental weed factory isn’t growing as quickly as it was just a few weeks ago.  Sure, just when you don’t work up a sweat during mowing, you don’t have to do it so much, although I do know one fanatic who mows right up until the first snow. 

As I noted earlier, the bird songs have diminished.  The migration has begun and a number of species have already begun the trip south.  In their place, the songs of the birds which remain year-round become more noticeable.  The variety of singers may be less, but their songs are still welcome.

There are several marinas nearby and boats are slowly being hauled out of the water and either prepped for winter storage or hitched onto pickups and taken home for the season.  The people hanging out at beaches aren’t swimming anymore.  The land activities now rule.  Home improvements to prepare for the cold are now in full swing.

Speaking of cold weather, the fuel oil trucks are starting to roll in greater numbers than they did just a month ago.  People are stocking up on wood and wood pellets as well.  They’re having all manner of house heating equipment serviced to make sure it starts and keeps going.  Everybody want to be prepared for that chilly morning when they can no longer avoid cranking the thermostat up just a few degrees.

The first day of fall will likely look a lot like today, although it is supposed to be sunny tomorrow in my area.  The changes which are occurring aren’t going to suddenly speed up just because September 23rd has arrived.  It might seem like it in some ways, but really, the season comes in on its own timetable.

Only 1 day until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – The Seasonal Clothing Conundrum

As temperatures slowly fall, we are starting to give thought to putting away the warm weather clothes and hauling out the cool weather styles.  Not the real cold weather stuff, mind you, as that's too much of a reality check.  If it's not snowing, you don't need to get out the insulated parka that will protect you down to -20°F just yet.

Thing is, the weather can still get quite warm and the clothing apparel this time of year has to run the gamut from short to long, from light to medium weight, and there is often a need for layering to allow for a cool morning warming into the afternoon and back down to chilly in the evening hours.  Judicious planning for the day can keep the summer wardrobe going for at least a few more weeks.

But there's something else.  There's a psychological aspect to giving in to washing, folding and putting away the summer duds.  To put the clothes away means that summer has really gone.  No more beaches, no more barbecues (I think I just heard a howl from the diehard BBQers), no more summer fun.  It's an admission that we're sliding toward cold weather and we're into the final months of yet another year.  We can say that we're simply making the most of all our wardrobe options by keeping out the tank tops, the shorts, even the sandals, when it's really a case of defying, or denying, the season ahead.  Each of us has their own timetable for when all the things that represent summer shall be stored away with a heavy sigh and heart until next we see them.

Mine's around the end of October – how about you?

Only 2 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Closing Down

A cold front passed through earlier today, bringing with it a fresh, hearty breeze and lower humidity.  It was wonderful and my longer than usual walk this morning was a delight.

However, my joy slowly diminished as the day went by.  The temperature in the very early hours of the morning was in the 70s.  As I write this at close to 3 in the afternoon, it’s now in the mid 60s and the breeze coming in the windows is getting more bracing than refreshing. 

I checked the forecast for the next couple of nights, and much as mid to high 40s and dry makes for better sleeping weather than low 70s and humid, it also makes for chilly surfacing from the covers first thing in the morning.  Brr, Baby.

And so, it begins.  The closing of windows to keep it warmer inside than out.  I only had six windows open to allow for cross-breezes.  I’ve now closed three and there may be one more shut down before I head for bed.  I really don’t want to.  It’s a concession that a) colder mornings have arrived and b) I’m not as young as I used to be and don’t tolerate the cold as well as previously.  It may be eye opening to feel at 5 AM, but it’s also cold on the toes.

However, to keep my denial going for a while longer, the screens and the fans which have sat in front of them all summer will not get put away just yet.  After all, the sun can still warm things and 70s and 80s are still possible, right?  Right?

Only 3 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Crickets in the Night

The sound of crickets outside is part of the night choir of August and September, with cricket sounds slowing down as the temperature decreases and then fading out entirely as fall progresses.  The male rubs his forewings together to make that chirping, done to attract a female, and the competition between the males for the lady cricket’s attention can be fierce.

It’s fine and dandy when it’s outside.  But, when they get inside, it’s another matter.  There are differing opinions as to whether crickets coming indoors is an accidental or deliberate action, assuming someone doesn’t actually want one as a pet.  There is also some question of how much of a nuisance they can be as house guests.  They don’t bite, but they do chomp on natural materials, things like clothes, books, etc.  However, their numbers inside tend to stay low, at least in my area, so that’s not really a problem, either. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if they were silent while inside, but they’re not.  One male cricket incessantly playing a love-sick song gets annoying after a while.  Two or more and it can very quickly become mind-numbing and not in a good way. 

Try to find them and put them outdoors or simply put them out of your misery?  Good luck with that.  Thinking you’re a predator, they go quiet when you get near them.  You can narrow down their location by being slow and light-footed, waiting for them to begin again, but that doesn’t mean you’ll catch them.  They’ve got the rapid retreat left, right and away almost down to perfection.

I had two male crickets wooing a female in the house this morning.  One was in the hallway behind a heavy table and one was in the bathroom behind the radiator.  Goodness knows where the female was, but the way they were going at it, she must have been midway between them.  I was glad I had to leave this morning because they were driving me nuts.  When I got home around noon, though, the noise had stopped.  Noise stopping doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve died or gone away.  It may have meant that someone won the dueling forewings competition, if you get my meaning. 

Cricket sex – what a concept.  Now, get out of my house, you noisy, horny insects!

Only 4 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Speaking of Migrations …

I’ve been spotting Monarch butterflies in the past week, especially in the last two days.  For those who aren’t aware, they are migrators.  They begin their journey in late August to early September, taking about two months to get to their final destination in Mexico (California for the western states).  I’ve never seen a cluster of them hanging together on trees, their way of conserving heat in cooler temperatures, but I’ve definitely noticed an increase in their numbers as they singly and in groups start to leave the area.

I counted about a dozen in different locations over the last two days, which is more than I’ve seen of them the entire summer.  They are wonderful to watch, so delicate in form, yet strong enough to fly up to 100 miles in a day.

Most will make it to their winter haven and most will make the trip back in the spring.  Sadly, their numbers have been dwindling through the years, so there may come a time when they’re not around anymore.  Take a moment if you see them and enjoy the sight.  They are as much a sign of the change of season as their travelling feathered counterparts.

Here’s a link to learn more about them and perhaps even help prevent their disappearance from our lives.

Only 5 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Migration: Poetry for a Thursday Night

Migration

In case you haven't noticed

it's gotten quieter out there

Not so many bird songs 

are floating through the air

The days are growing shorter

and our feathered friends all know

That soon their food will go away

and soon there will be snow

Some will leave and head on south

some will stay on here

But make no mistake they'll all return

To sing for us next year

                                                                         Lauren Swartzmiller

                                                                         © 09/17/2015

Only 6 days until Fall

Countdown to Fall – The Re-Domestication of Diva

It’s happened every year for the six years she’s been with me.  This beautiful and quite social long hair, Diva by name and attitude, becomes an exclusively outdoor cat from May until October.  Mind you, I don’t insist she or any of the other cats stay outside during this time.  There are cat doors and they can come and go as they please.  This one not only doesn’t want to use the cat doors, but seems to forget how to use them.  Feeding her just means doing it outdoors, which wasn’t an issue until this year.

Now usually, she stays close to the house.  This year, she’s taken to perching in trees in my neighbors’ yards.  The reason why she doesn’t do that here is because I have tall trees which branch out too high for her comfort.  The trees she’s been calling her summer residence have cat-friendly limbs starting at six feet.  Easy to get up to, easy to pop down from.  Both gave her vistas of the neighborhood, but kept her hidden from view. 

About a month ago, I noticed that she wasn’t coming up to the house for meals on any kind of regular basis.  Turns out a fellow cat lover saw her in the trees and felt sorry for her and started to bring her food.  Make no mistake, this cat has the sad cat face and meow act down to a science.  This woman, a fellow exercise walker who normally walks up and back down the hill once a day was now doing it twice a day even when she wasn’t feeling up to it.  I finally saw her doing this kindness for Diva last Sunday morning.  I explained that she was my cat, not a sweet feral feline.  We had a good laugh about it and she stopped bringing her food.

So now, Diva was cut off and had to start coming home again for he meals.  I still have to call her, but now she comes to to the house and eats and drinks heartily, heading back down to her favorite spot after being fed, petted and scratched.  She still prefers being outside and that will likely continue until the night temperatures start dipping down into the 30s.  Then, all of a sudden, she’ll run in the front door and stay in until the weather turns warm enough for overnight outside habitation again.  She has to figure out the cat doors once more, but once she does, she’s completely self-service.  She locates the cat litters and uses them appropriately.  She’s always gotten along with the other cats except for her first year when she was establishing herself.  While she does like to glue herself to my bed (they all do), she also varies her in-house location periodically.  She likes a change of scenery, after all.

Only 7 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Summer’s Back

Well, technically, it never left.  As I stated so emphatically before, it’s still summer until September 23rd.  But having those 70s during the day and 50s at night (ah, sleeping weather returns), which is more in line with where it should be this time of year, was really nice.  Granted, I had to throw the comforter back on the bed a few weeks earlier than expected, but it still beats trying to find a cool spot on the sheets for a few more winks of broken sleep due to the overly warm overnights.

This morning, it was a bit nippy in the house post-shower.  When my house cools down, it holds it in for a while.  This afternoon, the temperature was back up in the mid-80s, although a lot drier than last week.  The chilliness of my home’s interior this morning made it a sanctuary from the heat this afternoon.  It’ll likely be the same weather scenario for the next few days, but then return to nicer 70s by the weekend. I don’t plan on spending all my time inside, but it’s nice to know I can retreat to cool when it gets toasty and not have to worry about my electrical bill taking a jump.

Of course, nice temps in the 70s soon lead to 60s, then 50s, then 40s …. well, we all know where this is going, and pretty soon, we’ll miss those 80s,  90s and 100s.

Yeah, sure we will.

Only 8 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – That Touch of Color

I'm not talking dried up brown leaves on limbs and whole trees that I was seeing as a result of our drought locally.  I'm talking twinges of yellows where there should be yellow, with reds here and there and not just on the poison ivy, either (take a moment to feel the itch).

The colors I saw were vibrant.  I'll take that as a good sign of intensity to our change of seasons, although I wouldn't bet on it being too long before we'll need to start raking them up.  Still, we might get pleasantly surprised.

Only 9 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – When it Rains …

While for the most part it’s over, it rained last night and I do mean rained.  As I write this, I think it’s still raining very lightly.  Either that or water is dripping off trees and hitting the top roof right now.
 
While it let up a few times, for the most part, it downpoured from the slow moving storm system that passed through.  I checked online a short time ago for an approximate precipitation total for my area and AccuWeather is estimating at least 4” inches of rain fell locally between Saturday 6AM and now.  That sounds about right based on what I was hearing and seeing during the night.  I miss my rain gauge, though.
 
Talk about making up for lost time. While a lot of it will be runoff, it was still a good soaking and our drought status has definitely been taken down a peg or two.  Now, maybe we can get back to the normal season at hand.
 
Only 10 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Rain, Rain, Come Our Way

This is going to be a mercifully short entry.

My area has been very dry for most of the summer.  Most streams and lakes are below their normal levels by a noticeable amount.  Those with gardens have had to depend more on bringing the water to the plants instead of letting the rain do the job.  Foliage normally looks a duller green starting about now, but this year that dullness began back in early August.  We were starting to look kind of like a tinder box waiting for the flame.  I feel for anyplace with wildfires right now, knowing full well that, without relief, we could be next.

However, tonight into tomorrow and at least two more times in the next ten days, they're predicting rain for the area.  I welcome those little drops of relief despite the fact that I have a leaky back roof and rainy weather now makes my joints ache.  In the larger scheme of things, we need it.

Only 11 days until Fall.

My Editorial Error

I got a very nice e-mail from a friend regarding my post today in my other blog.  For those not following it, it's a countdown to the first day of fall, with me blogging blandly on a daily basis on one subject or another in the theme of the seasonal change.

My friend commented that it was a good entry, "But, Lauren dear, change the title."  Huh?  Now, why in the world should I change the title?  I looked at the entry in edit mode and still didn't understand.  Then I went to blog view and it hit me like a smack in the face.

The date, September 11, directly above the blog title.
The blog title:  Countdown to Fall – Bombs Away

Any other day, it might have been a clever take on the fact that black walnuts, which the entry was about, drop loud and hard and can do some damage in their fall to Earth.  Yeah, any other day.

I scheduled this entry to post the day before.  Due to poor sleep over the last several days, it didn't even register that I was posting something with such a poor choice of title on a day which still resonates so strongly with people, including me.  To my tired brain on September 10th, it was just tomorrow.

I've heard some say that it's been over 10 years and it's time to start moving on from that part of our history.  It's time to stop tolling bells and reading names.  It's time to stop visiting these sites like a sojourn in painful memory.  It's time to stop pussyfooting around the 9/11 date and return to normalcy.

Uh, no, it's not.  When the loss of thousands of lives in coordinated attacks in the matter of a morning starts to mean nothing, then we'll have lost a huge chunk of our humanity in that moment.

I thank my friend for knowing I hadn't really become desensitized to the significance of the day and for giving me that prod.  While the blog entry remains, the title has been changed.  My apologies to anyone who might have been offended by it.

Countdown to Fall – Aw, Nuts

On my property are two black walnut trees.  They’ve been there since before I was born and are now about 3 feet in diameter.  From them, many nuts have dropped through the years and between Mother Nature’s planting and squirrels forgetting where they left them, about two dozen trees have arisen in various locations.  By the way, if anyone would like some really good lumber or firewood (black walnut is excellent wood for either purpose) and actually knows what they’re doing, come get ‘em.

If you’re not familiar with black walnuts, once hulled and cracked (more on that in a minute) they are similar in appearance to regular walnuts.  Their taste is much stronger, though, sort of the walnut family equivalent of espresso coffee.  Some like them, some don’t.  I like them in small amounts.

To get to the nutmeat is a two-step process.  First, you have to break through the soft thick green hull outside.  That’s the easy part, and the pulp stains everything a yellowish-green that dries to brown.  It makes a great dye that’s been used for centuries, but it’s not all that nice looking on the hands over the following 1-3 days.  Once the outer hull is removed, there is a hard shell surrounding the nutmeat.  You know that neat little triangular shaped nut cracker that comes in holiday gift sets and works really well on regular walnuts?  Well, forget it.  Even before the nuts dry and cure for about 4 weeks (yes, really), cracking the inner hull requires industrial strength methods, although perhaps not all that sophisticated.  There are tools available which nicely split the hull and leave the nut halves intact, but I’m into the old adage of, “When all else fails, hit it with a hammer.”  You may get smaller pieces, but they’re still edible, and you get to take your frustrations out on a poor little well-armored nut.

Needless to say, with two dozen (and counting) trees on the property, the squirrels are busy.  But they don’t generally harvest them off the trees.  They wait for them to drop, then chew the soft hull off and scurry off with their bounty.  Now, consider this – each green-hulled black walnut is about the size of a tennis ball and it’s solid.  There’s a whole physics and math thing going on here involving mass and velocity which my brain has never done, but trust me – when these things fall from even 10 feet above, they land loud and hard.  You know when you’ve been hit by one (yes, I have), and if your car is parked under them, there will be little craters left in metal, although car windshields tend to survive the impact with only a stain of green smoosh left behind.

I gather, hull and store a few dozen nuts for use around the holidays and I do highly recommend trying them if you get the opportunity.  However, I'd try to avoid remaining under the trees for long amounts of time during September.  This year isn’t a bumper crop due to the lack of rain, but there’s still enough lurking in the branches above to be wary of.  The trees are also losing their leaves at the same time (last to get them in the spring, first to lose them in the fall), and many times there are still nuts on the trees even after most of the leaves are gone, and you get to see where each little round weapon of minor destruction is waiting just for you.  Be careful.

Only 12 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Revitalized

Well, sort of.

It took a while before things cooled off last night after a most-welcome line of rain and thunderstorms blew through my area during the early evening hours.  I slept better than I have for the past week, but I can't say that it was completely comfortable sleeping.  While it got into the the low 70s and will likely remain there today, it was and is still pretty muggy.  There is another line of rainy stuff expected this evening, and then it should get nice.

From the rain that we got, however, came another revitalization.  The ground has been very dry, but with the change that came yesterday came that wonderful earthy smell that accompanies the season.  Granted, it's the smell of decaying leaves combined with a few flowering plants, etc., but with it being so dry before, the fragrances of autumn just weren't there.  Yesterday and today, there is a hint of them returning.

The leaves still on the trees also look a bit better as well. Perhaps there will be something more than them drying up and dropping off as I've been seeing the last two weeks.  While it isn't as simple as adding water to the mix, not having water in the mix at all would have guaranteed a short and dull change of color to all the foliage.  Since the colors of fall are part of the joy of the season, one can only hope that the rains we're expecting will make the difference between boring and brilliant change.

Only 13 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall – Sleep Deprived: Poetry for a Too Early Wednesday Morning

Well, I was going to write on another topic today, but my brain is too fried from lack of sleep to properly turn the phrase.  Too many days of too much muggy heat finally caught up with me.  I've been awake more than usual during the night and finally gave up and got up at 3 AM.  I'm presently listening to cicadas and crickets at full throttle, which can barely be heard over the two fans which are also running at full throttle.  It's like trying to sleep on an airport tarmac.

While I know I've posted my old friend's picture on the subject here before, bless me if I can find it here.  I think I also posted the bit of poetry below before as well, but also couldn't find it.  Still, both are appropriate to the day(s).

The break in the weather is actually coming a little earlier than expected, but it's still not going to be today.  So, let's get back to normal September weather, shall we, before I start writing gibberish.  Well, more than usual, anyway.

Only 14 days until Fall.

Sleep Deprived

3 AM and reluctantly up out of bed

for sleep eluded this weary head

Foggy mind and tired body are mine for today

will the dog days of summer ever go ' way?

Heat and humidity with no A/C

makes sleeping as hard as any chore can be

Sleep and wake, toss and turn, murmur expletive deleted

for the minutes of rest this weather has meted

You can't do much with sleep deprivation

being up and functional a horrid sensation

Every move and thought a much slower act

in the hope of maintaining this life's pact

But September will come with cooler air to be sure

ultimately this insomniac's cure

Until then coffee cups must be filled to the rim

To bring my mind out of its consciousness dim

So as I fill my first moments with muddy brew

and write these poetic words I must coo

If I'm required to look in the mirror at this tired sight

I should have a better reason to be awake at night

                                                                                                        2005 Lauren Swartzmiller

Countdown to Fall – September's Cooking and Not in a Good Way

Much as I don't look forward to the slide toward colder temperatures for financial reasons, right now I'd welcome it.  I am not a hothouse plant and don't enjoy temperatures in the high 80s and low 90s with humidity that makes it that much more oppressive. Indoors offers some relief, but day after day of those temperatures and even the best insulated home (mine isn't) will retain the heat.  It's still cooler than outdoors, but not by much.

Night time is only cooling into the 70s locally.  I chose not to have an air conditioner a long time ago.  They're energy suckers even at their most energy efficient, and I find the hum more annoying and sleep disturbing than a fan.  On days and nights like this, though, it makes me wonder if having just one teeny, tiny A/C unit to have available might have been a wise investment back in the days of better income.

As a result of all this summertime weather in September, especially at night, I'm getting very sleep deprived.  Yeah, just try and find a cool spot on the sheets.  I'm yawning as I type this and I've been up for two and a half hours already.  I know the break is coming in about two days and we'll be back to cooler and drier weather that is more September-like after that.  I will welcome it with open arms, followed by a long nap.

Until then – mmph, more coffee.

Only 15 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall–Labor Day

Ah, that last holiday and hurrah of summer.  A day set aside over 100 years ago to celebrate the worker.  It was a day of parades and speeches honoring the hardworking folks who kept all manner of businesses running.  While it started on a Tuesday originally, it quickly moved to the first Monday in September and stayed there, becoming the original three-day weekend legal holiday combo.

Some might say it’s deteriorated in its purpose to being just another day to have barbecues and picnics, hit the beaches, go shopping.  However, with the exception of the shopping which wasn’t allowed on the holiday for a almost a century, I think it was always about having an extra day to relax and enjoy before the return to the normal workweek. 

The parades celebrating Labor Day have mostly gone away through the years. The speeches by leaders and labor unions still go on, but nowadays, they end up more as news bits for us to read or watch at another time.

But, the message of the day is still important.  The working man and woman, regardless of their position, regardless of the size of their paycheck, are what make businesses and countries flourish.  To ignore them or downplay their importance is asking for failure.  To honor and celebrate their roles in our lives isn’t just an extra day tacked on to a weekend, either.  It’s a year-round effort.

To those who work today, whether they must or have opted to put the time in, I hope the day holds at least a little relaxation.  I also hope somebody higher in your ranks expresses their appreciation for you giving up what is your holiday to continue to serve.

Wherever you are, whatever your job, thank you for all the great work that you do.

Happy Labor Day, everyone.

Only 16 days until Fall.

Countdown to Fall - Summer Ain't Over

So, here we are again.  Another seasonal countdown.  Like my Countdown to Spring series, I will be inanely blogging every day on the theme of transitioning from one season to the next.  Unlike the earlier series, this one will be mercifully shorter.  Only 17 days, thank goodness (go ahead – try and admit you weren’t thinking it).

I’m going to start with the fact that this weekend is NOT the end of summer.  

Yes, I know most schools which didn’t open last week will be opening this coming Tuesday, heralding the end of summer vacation for kids of all ages, their parents who will be breathing a sigh of relief and shedding a tear of regret all at the same time, as well as the return to normal routine (and paychecks for some) for the teachers and all the people who help our educational systems run.

Yes, vacation spots and summer tourist attractions will be winding down.  Yes, the end of summer sales events and back to school sales will also be coming to an end soon.  Save some money for Black Friday – they’ve already started putting out Christmas decorations in some stores.

Yes, birds are starting to flock and some even starting to migrate.  Some of the the human ‘snowbirds’ are also closing up shop, packing up and heading out to their winter homes. 

Even meteorologists are calling this long weekend the end of summer.  That might suggest that cooler conditions are settling in when these folks call it a season.  Uh, no, not really.  September can still be nasty.  It is the peak of the hurricane season, which means that it’s still warm enough out over the oceans for these storms to develop right down to the end of the month and sometimes beyond.

So, no, it’s not over.  The astronomical end of summer, when the sun’s intensity is at its strongest at the equator and the day and night are of equal length, is on September 23rd.. 

That’s September 23rd at 4:21 AM EDT, People!   The heck with everyone else’s timetables!   I can legitimately deny it for a while longer.  That means that up until 4:20:59 AM on 9/23/15, I will insist it’s still summer even if the temperatures dip into the 30s at night in my area by that point.  So there – nyah!

Only 17 days until Fall.

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Blog Resurrection

That's right, I'm back.  Miss me?

No, really – I'm really back this time.  Honest and for true.

(Honest and for true!?  Who talks like that?)

For those who occasionally wandered through and read this blog, they know that I merged the contents of this one with my other Blogger account back in June. I wasn't adding anything to it and figured it was just easier to concentrate on one blog.

Yeah, well ...

With so many things going on in my life, both good and bad, I stopped blogging completely.  Not the best choice.  Not writing at all led to creative inertia, which is self-defeating and self-perpetuating all in one big writer's block ball. My muse got tired of waiting and left on an extended vacation, leaving me without inspiration to write anything much beyond a grocery list or the desire to find my muse and wring its intangible neck for a spring break that extended through the summer.

ENOUGH!

It's like physical exercise – if you don't use it, you lose it and I'd rather my grey matter not fall into disuse just yet.  Maybe another 50 years or so.

But until then, Muse, summer has ended early for you.  I just clouded up your beach sky, cut off food and drink service to your corner of the sand, stole your chair and towel and left a one-way ticket on Creativity Airlines in their place.
Now get back here!

Time clock, time card – HIT IT.

Any questions?

Winding Down - Poetry for a Tuesday Night

Winding Down

shoes on top of cars

to air the day away

tired bare feet

walk on soft green grass

leaving all stress behind for a while

their soled protectors relaxing too

stretched open on their high perch

in patient wait for their partners’ return

                                                                                    Lauren Swartzmiller

                                                                                    08/04/15

Smerging of Blogs

For the handful of folks who follow my words, they're all in one place now.

It was my intent to use this blog for my quieter and gentler blog entries, using the other blog, "Off the Top of (and Possibly Out of) My Head" for my more irreverent, acerbic, opinionated and wisecracking side.  It worked for a while, but now I'm finding that I just want to write everything in one blog.  No separation of thought and intent.  Seriously, why?  At the end of the day (or night) it's still me no matter what IP address you find it at.  There are also few folks who find it easier to just read one blog at a time.  Hey, one-stop shopping, er, reading.  I can oblige.

So, if you have the other blog bookmarked, delete it.  You can't access it now, anyway.  All the entries of both blog are found at this address.

Once more with feeling from the blog that started it all for me.

Mind the dustbunnies as you wander through.

Mother’s Day

Dear Mom,

Happy Mother’s Day! The last time I got to say that to you in person was in 1998. You are still in my heart after all these years, and I know that you’re in a much better place than before you passed.  There was so much I wanted to say to you, but didn’t truly realize that time was short until it was obvious. You know me, I do sometimes need a psychological 2x4 thrown at me to get the message. I’m also not necessarily great with the spoken word. I can be eloquent on paper, but brain to lips directly tends to lose something along the way.

Thank you for being a great mom while you were here. You might think you weren’t great, but you were. You had your failings (not many), but so did I and you put up with them right up until the end. You taught me so many of life’s lessons and gave me the skills to survive, and I’m not talking just the household basics. You shared with me not just as my mother, but as my friend, and let’s face it, you were a cool mom and friend. You were there for me even when you weren’t at your best. As I got older, I tried my best to return that favor.  We didn’t always agree on things, but I think we did on the things that mattered.

If you had expectations of me that I didn’t live up to, I’m sorry.   I expected to be successful in some career, have a comfortable life with a not entirely ugly gentleman happily at my side. You know, the fairy tale.  We both know that didn’t happen.  My not meeting expectations, regardless of whose they were, was of my own doing.  I know that you supported me in whatever decision I made and really just wanted me to be happy.  It’s all you wanted for any of your kids, and ultimately, I think we’ve all found our share of that happiness.

I used to gather lily-of-the-valley and violets for you while you were alive.   I even did it for a while after you passed, but don’t anymore.  It isn’t because you’re not worthy of them, as if that could EVER be the case.  But, I think it became a ritual that gives no comfort. They smell wonderful, but only I get to enjoy their fragrance now.  It’s not as though I get to present them to you in expected fashion – “Here, Mommy, Happy Mother’s Day” when I was young and just “Happy Mother’s Day” as I got older – and you’d smile and say “thank you” and then we’d find a vase for them to be displayed best in.  I can still hold out the bouquet, but you’re in my heart, not in my home to receive them.

So, for this Mother’s Day, no white coral bells and purple petaled flowers shall be picked by me.  They’ll stay where they are out in the world, still enjoyed.
 

Instead, I’ll simply end this by saying

Thanks, Mom. You’re the best and I love you.

‘cause it says it so much better than flowers.
 
Love,
Lauren

Reinvention

Ah, the birthday blog entry.  Fifty-eight years on the planet and still counting.  This past natal year was a time of abrupt changes, changes not so welcome on their initial impact, but accepted and moved on from nevertheless.  Positive things have grown out of them, albeit  like molasses sometimes.  As I head into this next year, I realize that further changes will be happening.  But whether those changes are by choice or out of my control, they’ll still bring about further positive things in the long run.

Lest you think I’m going to wax poetic about the interesting year between birthdays, I’m not.  This blog entry has to do with reinvention.  It was inspired by a comment someone made that spoke to me of a need to divest themselves from something which, at one point, had been a positive thing, but was now just a part of their work history to be moved on from.  I can relate on more than one level to this, as can many others.  Different jobs, different circumstances, but similar feelings and obstacles.

Sometimes through necessity, we must change what we do and how we do it.  Anybody who started life before 1980 knows how much technology has changed lives and quite a few jobs.  In a number of cases, technology drove some occupations to extinction, leaving businesses to reduce their work force or perish.  Even putting technology aside, the supply and demand for any given job can vary and when supply outweighs demand, those left out in the cold must decide what to do next, adapt to change or live in impoverished obscurity. 

Sometimes, though, the change is more about dissatisfaction with ourselves, with the paths our lives have taken.  Even when there’s nothing wrong financially or success-wise for them, some people have the need, the drive for  change.  These people thrive in reinventing themselves, repurposing their knowledge and skills into new ideas and paths.  Some call them dreamers, others call them visionaries. 

For either group of reinventors, there can be resistance to their change.  People cannot see them beyond how they’ve seen them before, sometimes beyond what they perceive as the perfect niche for them.  But when that niche has become a deep trench that’s no longer required or desired, it’s time to crawl out and move on. 

For those forced out, the encouragement to evolve isn’t always there.  If you’re good at what you do, stay close to it and you’ll be fine, is the philosophy.  That may be true or it may not.  If the job you do is going the way of the dodo, there’s just so long you can continue in a similar position and still be working.  It’s better to learn the new ways or even try something different altogether.

Observers are even more resistant toward those who have a need for job diversity.  Why can’t they just settle down and do one thing, is their lament.  However, asking those who thrive on occupational change-ups to be singularly occupied with one walk of life is like condemning them to purgatory.  Still others only seem to flit from one thing to the next when, in fact, they’re looking for that niche that others want them to be in. 

Those who can’t see any group beyond the roles they played in their lives before are in for a bigger shock than those who reinvent themselves.  The reinventors are adapting, seeing themselves in a whole new light.  Those who don’t understand that and/or won’t help them are the ones standing in the shadows, myopic and needing new glasses.

Life goes on.  People, jobs, locations all come and go.  Opportunities can be missed, disappear and then reappear.  There are times when we might think that, good or bad, it’s all fated to happen.  But, there is no foolproof predicting of which direction we’ll take when fate places a pothole or a pot of gold in front of us.   It’s what we do with those circumstances that makes it interesting and defines who we are.  We are the writers of our own stories and the potential for greatness is only limited by what we write next.  Chose all co-writers wisely, and don’t let negative reviews deter.  There’s no end of paper to write said story, but there’s always going to be a final page. 

Make it good, make it productive, make it fun,  But above all, make it unique.  

And So, After Having Caught My Breath ...

... I will be returning to my blogging ways starting in May.

It won't be daily, like I was trying to do with the Countdown to Spring series, but I will be posting here again with some regularity.  Will it be interesting?  Who knows?  One person's boring claptrap is another person's fascinating masterpiece. Hopefully, it'll fall between those two extremes somewhere.

Stay tuned.

Fair Warning – Coming off Hiatus

That's right, I'm back.  Miss me?

For those who still occasionally wander through and wonder if my last post in late January was going to be the final thought off the top of my head posted here, the answer is, well ...

NO!

Between starting a new job in January and writing daily entries on the other blog from early February to mid-March (Countdown to Spring - go read it (again), if you're bored), my brain was a little fried and preoccupied.  Hey, I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time.  Something had to give.

So, after a wordsmithing vacation that ran from March 21st until now, preferring to give myself and the world a break for a time, I will be returning to the land of Blogger/Blogspot in May to have my say once more.  Will try to keep it worth the effort to continue searching for and navigating through here.

And, hey, to whoever's stopping by from Russia to check out this and the other blog – assuming you're not just some internet savvy person from down the street bouncing your IP address around the globe – what can I say but Spasibo za chteniye.

And if that doesn't say "Thanks for reading," in flawless Russian, blame Google Translate.

Thanks for reading, everybody.

Countdown to Spring: The Final Entry

Well, I could have taken my last walk of winter this morning, since it didn’t start to snow here until around 2 PM.  It's still lightly snowing as I type this, although it's hard to say how much we've actually gotten so far since most of it has melted on contact.  Let's say an inch for the sake of argument.  Roads are clear, no plow or sander required.  It's basically sticking to trees, plants and formerly bare earth.  It likely won’t be sticking around long, though, since the weekend temperatures are supposed to be in the 40s and 50s.

So, spring has finally and officially arrived and that brings this series to an end.  It was a mental and creative challenge to maintain daily entries and, in fact, I missed posting 6 out of the total 47 days.  It’s a discipline that as a hobbyist writer I have yet to master, but I gave it a good try.

I’d like to thank the handful of folks who stuck it out right to the end.  I don’t know whether you were there in support of me or out of curiosity as to what boring topic I’d write about next.  However, the fact that somebody showed up daily to read it actually helped me to continue my self-imposed writing quest.  Thank you.  It was much appreciated.


So, whether there are still remnants of winter in your neighborhood, or whether they’ve all disappeared and you’re starting to see lots of evidence that winter has left the building, even if there’s never any snow or cold where you live, spring has returned. 

Get out there and enjoy it.

Countdown to Spring: The Final Walk of Winter

With the passage from winter solstice to vernal equinox a little over a day away, it seemed only fitting that I take my last walk of winter today.  I would take it tomorrow, but our forecast calls for snow and my enjoyment of walking in falling snow disappeared on 3/1.

The first thing I noticed was that the inch of snow I noted yesterday was happily gone.  The percentage of bare ground showing continues to increase with each above-freezing day.  What was at best 5-10% of ground showing two weeks ago is now 60-70%.  There is a little green growth showing among the brown, but not that much in the way of new green growth.  Mostly perennial grasses, both lawn and weed varieties, that hold their green throughout the year, but look a little tired right now, like they're just waking up.  There are things like crocuses, snowdrops, even daffodils which are pushing up slowly as well to remind us that more colorful days are coming. 

Another reason for my walk today was to check on the pussy willow along my regular wander route.  I was given permission by the owner to clip a few branches once the little fuzzy “flowers” show themselves.  While there were buds ready to pop, the pussy willow will likely not be in bloom until after spring arrives.  Perhaps next week, though, I’ll be able to bring my clippers and harvest a fuzzy bouquet.

The forsythia bushes I walked by are also getting ready to blossom, the buds larger than even a week ago.  Other trees are also showing signs of returning from their winter sleep.

As I walked past our millbrook, its meandering path now almost free of ice, I noticed a large bird land in a nearby tree.  Even without binoculars, I could tell it was a turkey vulture.  They don’t stay locally year-round and their return is like the swallows' return to Capistrano, just not as pretty and therefore, perhaps not as welcome by folks not aware of the important role they play as scavengers. 

The robin I mentioned seeing in a previous post has not been seen since.  I suspect he’s still around, perhaps looking elsewhere for meals and springtime housing.  However, I’m sure it won’t be long before I start to see the small flocks of them all over the place.

As I returned home, the sun’s warmth felt wonderful.  The last two days were incredibly windy and not walker-friendly.  But the calmer winds and blue skies of today were much more inviting and I even slowed my pace to savor them.  Bushes and trees  with leaves getting ready to show themselves, bird singing songs not heard in a while, all this and more  examples of the many cycles of renewal that spring has to offer those of us who are more than ready for them. 

This last walk of winter, with its reminders of better days to come, was pure joy, and I look forward to tomorrow, even if it snows.

1 day until spring.

Countdown to Spring: It's Baaack

I woke this morning to the unexpected sight of an inch of new snow.  Just an inch.  Only an inch.  An inch that covers every bit of bare ground which had developed or was helped into existence.

Even more less than welcome news ‒ it looks like we're expecting snow on the first day of spring.  Again, not a lot, maybe an inch as of today's forecast.  It could be worse.

I realize that it's not going to be sticking around long, but it's still annoying even in its anticipated short lifespan.

-Sigh-

Only 2 days until spring.

Countdown to Spring: Nothing to Report Except ...

... my first robin sighting.

I'm usually about two weeks behind the rest of the local population.  But considering we were still pretty snowbound two weeks ago, I'm likely right in with the rest of the crowd in catching a glimpse of one of signs of spring that we all look for.

My robin looked a little forlorn in one fairly large area of bare ground in a nearby park, doing the walk-stop-listen-repeat food prowl in an area where the worms have likely not shown up yet, and goodness knows, there hasn't been much insect life yet, either.  That'll change, of course.  But right now, pickin's is mighty slim.  No wonder he was a solo act.

Only 4 days until spring.

Countdown to Spring: Bare Ground!

Between the above-freezing temperatures of the past week and the rain yesterday, places where snow wasn't heaped up by human hands or vehicles is down to 2-3", and in some places where the sun exposure has been all day, there are places which are – dare I say it without the sky bears hearing? – down to bare ground in ever expanding circles.  I doubt that all of it will be gone before this coming Friday, but a significant bit more will have disappeared by then.

And so, on the Ides of March, we are down to the final five days (actually 4 days and 2.5 hours as I type this - check for the most recent countdown time here) before this winter is history.  Can't wait.

Only 5 days until spring.

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Countdown to Spring: Ah, Rain

Shortly after sunrise, there was a pitter-patter on my roof.  It wasn't that flock of starlings mentioned in an earlier entry coming in to land and look for breakfast. It definitely wasn't snow or sleet, either.  It wasn't even the freezing rain they had forecast for the morning hours in my area.  It was just plain old rain.  You know, water that falls from the sky that isn't frozen?  That wonderful stuff.  The stuff that helps make the frozen stuff disappear.

Yeah, I know, it has its drawbacks in showing up this time of year, flooding from snowmelt and blocked waterways being one of the problems.  Still, I welcome it.
For the sight and sound
of raining coming down
means the signs of winter
will more quickly leave town

Only 6 more days until spring

Countdown to Spring: Friday the 13th and Who Cares?

For those with triskaidekaphobia, which is the fear of Friday and the 13th in combination in a given month, get over it.  Seriously.  How often has anything bad happened to you on the day that makes it so traumatically memorable to be feared in perpetuity?  Chances are better that the answer is never.

Snow and ice are melting and life which had been dormant or hibernating is returning for you to enjoy.  Birds are singing spring notes.  We're starting to see migrating birds return as well, although I haven't spotted my first robin yet.  The days are warmer, the sun is brighter.  Winter is still here, but will be officially gone in a week.

Don't waste time being afraid of this day and number together.  Embrace it.  Let spring fever, rather than fear, rule your day.

Only 7 more days until spring.

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Countdown to Spring: A Desperate Need for Green

While the temperatures have remaining above freezing and the snow has been melting along nicely, the progress toward bare ground has been, well, glacial. Places which have been plowed, shoveled or sanded are happily down to earth-toned surfaces.  But in my area, there is at least another 6-8" of snowmelt which must occur before life underneath it gets full benefit of sunlight again, more where its been heaped up to clear roads and pathways.

A few weeks back, I shoveled out the area where my crocuses are and they appreciated the effort.  The leaves are up about an 2" since I cleared snow away enough for the sun to do the rest.  I probably won't see the flowers for another 1-2 weeks, but it's still earlier than it would have been previously, since that's where I tossed snow to dig out my car and driveway.

But it was not enough.  I have snowdrops in my yard which were still covered by snow and I wanted them to have the same opportunity that the crocuses did.   Hard to landmark things when it's all uniformly white and I couldn't quite remember where they were, anyway. So, I cleared a circle 15 feet in diameter in the area that I vaguely remember them being in last year.  As with the crocus patch, I cleared to the point where the sun and warm air could finish the job easily.

Today, there is a patch of brown and green where I shoveled, some of the green being snowdrop leaves, so mission accomplished.  The snow was crusty and heavy and my muscles and joints didn't and still don't appreciate this job that wasn't actually necessary.

But, my psyche does.  I'm looking forward to flowers in bloom, likely right around the first day of spring, in both spots as a result of my efforts.  It would have been only somewhat longer had I allowed natural melting to occur.  But, I needed some things that don't remind me of this dreary winter season.  The extra ibuprofen required was worth it.

Only 8 more days until spring.

Countdown to Spring: Under the Weather

Sorry to the handful of people following this blog right now.  I was more under the weather than I thought I was originally.  But, I’m feeling better today and am back to bore you.

I woke this morning to what I call snow-eating fog.  Warm air over snow cover can create a very dense fog.  It was dense enough that at sunrise, I couldn’t see more than 100 yards.  I could actually hear the foghorn from the lighthouse that’s about three miles away and it rarely comes on.  I call it snow-eating fog because the warm air is still eating away at the snow cover even with the ground-level clouds in place (that’s all fog is, really).  The temperature never got below freezing last night, so the snow cover has continued to shrink in the darkness.

As I looked out this morning at ground level, I saw MORE GROUND.  There’s still more white than brown and green showing, but the melting is becoming more apparent.  The sun is beginning to make its way through, however,  and the fog has thinned out a bit.  The temperature is supposed to be sunny and in the low to mid 50s today.  This works.  It’s supposed to head back down into the 30s and 40s in a day or so, with 10s and 20s at night.  But, the colder temperatures won’t be around for too much longer.

So, we’re all under the weather now.  But the weather is better, so it’s not quite so bad.

Only 9 days until spring,

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