On Leap Day I leaped into gardening. This must be a harbinger of Spring. Note this jump was just a baby step into gardening, because I’m at least one notch below novice. Neighbors Amy and Shawn, as well as sister Beth, encouraged and advised me through the past year. There is still a lot to learn.
I walked straight through the house after walking, picking up shears on my way to the garden. The tall clump of ornamental grass stalks has been cut down, ready for the new growth. I left a mess, though, which should be raked up.
On the bright side, we picked up some flower seeds the other day. Great patience will be required, waiting for the soil to warm up. Maybe we should hold the packets up near the window when the snow flurries come later in the week.
There were warnings of strong winds, but we rarely get what is promised. I finished my shower. John got caught in the bathroom without windows or lights. I opened the door so he could see to get out. The generator kicked in, giving us electricity for the water pump, the microwave, and lights in several rooms. I ran out in the rain to check the gauge on the propane tank. We had no idea how much could be used if the power were out a long time.
Meanwhile, the wind roared and whistled. John left to keep two doctors’ appointments. I found the wind very unsettling. It was hard to think of anything but the sound of the wind. There was a crash on the screened porch as a glass candle holder exploded when it hit the floor. I picked up the pieces, not that they would be blown about like shrapnel. The bird feeder crashed on the bedroom deck. I put on a raincoat and rigged it up at a lower level, and the birds flocked to it. Stripping and remaking the guest bed seemed a good idea in case anyone needed to stay with us. I almost slipped on the kitchen floor and found water there. Somehow the fountain pump reversed itself, pumping water out of the container instead of inside it. What a mess! It seemed prudent to fill wastebaskets with water for the toilet and pitchers with drinking water. Back in the bedroom, I glanced out and saw the most brilliant rainbow I’d ever seen. An hour later there was another one, not so bright, but lying under the mountain. Only one photo showed a semblance of its brilliance.
The wind continued its blustery mayhem. I pricked up my ears at sounds from the garage area. I was about to investigate when I heard a greeting from son $. He was here to visit before keeping an appointment in town.
We thought there would be rain all day. Instead, there was blue sky with white clouds scudding to the northeast. The shadows on the mountain slithered up and down the slopes, making a landscape that changed second by second. Sometimes it looked like dinosaurs chasing each other.
With the finale coming up for the TV series of Downton Abbey, neighbor Amy borrowed the first season from the library. She and I watched seven episodes in two days while John was driving Nathaniel to New Jersey. John wanted to review the first ones, too, so Amy let us have the disks. We watched two last night and will probably see two more each day. I catch nuances that I missed each time I see one.
It was raining at morning walk time, and I longed to snuggle back in my warm bed. I told John I had Downton Abbey-itis after watching a scene with Lady Cora having her routine breakfast in bed. Now, the last thing I’d want is food near my bed, but oh! what luxury it would be to loll about when others are scurrying to get ready for the day!
We decided to do our walking at the rec center for the first time. We went swimming there while grandson David was with us for Christmas, but we had never seen the indoor walking track. It was on the second floor overlooking basketball courts, two other game courts, and the swimming pool off to one side. I took a position next to the wall, figuring other people might pass me. And pass me, they did! The track was sprinkled with old geezers and geezettes, every one of them speeding by me. They all looked older and more frail than I did. I could have gotten dizzy watching those silver heads whizzing by. If I’d had a superiority complex, it would have taken a severe beating. As it was, I tried to look proud while slinking back to the car.
Many weather forecasts for mountain weather include the phrase “higher elevations.” Mountain weather is not only regional, it’s perpendicular, too. We’ve seen rain fall in the valley while watching the top of a mountain turn white with snow. Nathaniel noticed white covering the top of a mountain in Maggie Valley, and he wanted to see if it were rime ice. This weather phenomenon was new to us when we moved to North Carolina. That day, though, the white turned out to be snow. John stopped the car so that Nathaniel and I could get a few photos. I wanted to show how the snow stopped abruptly, and I included the grandson who lives at a higher elevation from me when we are in the same house.
We continued to my favorite waterfall. I’ve seen it in winter before, but it seemed rather bleak that day. We rushed on to church, enjoying the play of the setting sun on the mountain tops.
As we began our walk, I told John that I was having difficulty leading a balanced life. I tied my shoes as usual, left first. When I walked a few steps, I realized the left was quite loose compared to the right. Having blooded an ankle the first time I wore those sneakers, I went right back and retied it. Two miles of botheration would be entirely too much. Wouldn’t you know it? The right one then felt loose. I could have spent all day trying to get them balanced.
A mile later, the view would have drawn my attention away from my feet if simply walking hadn’t done the trick. There was rime ice on top of the mountain. The toy camera gave equal billing to the sun on the clouds, so you’ll have to imagine how dramatic the ice appeared.
You never know when something is going to be so funny that you laugh until tears run down your face. We’d had 24 hours to get used to having grandson Nathaniel here for winter break. One of the first things I did was take his picture with the birthday balloon John bought him. His birthday was the week before, but we will celebrate with him later.
Nathaniel is so tall that the house seems to shrink when he stands up.
The day began as any ordinary Sunday. We went to church in Asheville, had a brief discussion about where to eat lunch, and settled in our booth at Fatz. Conversation never lagged. We must have talked about people who did strange things, but that was erased from my memory by what followed.
In an ordinary sentence, Nathaniel made a statement with a straight face, fully expecting us to continue talking. John and I looked at each other with disbelief. Had we really heard what we thought we had?
“Say that again, Nathaniel.”
He repeated, “We all have our quirbels.”
We burst out laughing and couldn’t stop repeating the word in every other sentence. He took it with grace. It seems things come out of his mouth that people have never heard before, and his classmates accept them. They even compliment him on his huge vocabulary. His newly coined words are certainly out of their range.
We decided the new word was a combo of quirks and foibles. Just remember, if you notice someone doing an unusual thing today, we all have our quirbels.
I love balloons, helium balloons to be exact. As long as there is any lift left in one, it stays in the house. My birthday comes just before Christmas. Until the day was over, the balloon John bought me stayed in the kitchen where I could interact with it. I moved it to the bedroom to make way for Christmas, and I could continue my celebration in private. It was almost two months after my birthday when the balloon took matters into its own hands. It had floated proudly beside the computer until it lost its oomph. Where did it come to rest? On top of the waste basket!!!! This has to be the smartest balloon I ever had, knowing when and where to call it quits.
It’s a good thing I didn’t know snow was forecast, otherwise I might have gotten up several times during the night to peek outside. As it was, I saw the flaky symbol just before going out to walk. I thought, “Yeah! Right! Snow! Tell me another one. All those times you said it would snow last week and nothing came? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Looking at the map, I saw a big blob of gray. With my luck it would slide right by. Marla was out with dog Albert, and I told her snow was close. As we chatted, first one flake and then another flitted by. Snow was really coming down as I strode down the big hill. I took a photo at the stream, hoping to show the flakes. Some were already sticking to the boulders.
Coming back, I needed a shot to show John that Qualla was white. At that moment he was having breakfast with grandson David in NY.
The toy camera insisted we take Amy’s house, because Amy was in South Carolina. She would need to know what she was missing.
The camera also said my now white hair should be recorded. That little gadget has a sense of justice, uncommon for a camera. If I accidentally take unflattering photos of others, I should be willing to expose myself to the same treatment. I didn’t realize it would be a front and back selfie.
Anne collared by snow
I wondered what I would do with John away. When you’ve been with someone over 50 years on a daily basis, you don’t take that absence lightly. I usually soak up the silence, but this time I put on some Celtic music in the living room. Did I strain to hear it? No, it was blasting, and I could hear every note three rooms away. Evidently, this was going to be a day of surprises.
In a snowy area, there will always be someone laughing at the run on bread, milk, and eggs before a storm. John heard a commentator on the radio wondering what would happen to all the supplies people scooped up. A newspaper showed a photo of the bread section, as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard. Our forecast promised 3 to 5 inches of snow, gradually whittled down to 3, and then 1.
Well, guess what! I checked our supply, and we were almost out of two items, milk and eggs. We went out in an early flurry, buying everything on our small list. To Ingle’s credit, no shelves were picked over. Much as I dislike being a carbon copyist, you know we’ll become part of some storm statistic.
I’ll bet there aren’t many couples that would sit down on the morning of a storm to watch the 7th and last episode of a documentary on the Roosevelts. If we were going to make an emergency run to town, it would include dropping things at the library. We should have known better. These two errands stopped the snow in its tracks. I meant to go out to measure the snow where it was piled up. It might have been as thick as an “i” lying down.
At 4:49 am, I texted grandson Nathaniel with a cheery birthday greeting and promptly went back to sleep. Since he gets up early every school day, he replied at 5:43. He had a snow day on Long Island and sounded disgusted that there was no snow on the ground or falling. This was the boy that prayed for snow on his birthday in 2013, and we got a blizzard with an accumulation of 31 inches. He claimed he prayed for an inch, and Grandpa said, “Yes, and you prayed it 31 times!”
Nathaniel shoveling snow the day after his birthday, 2013
Meanwhile, in North Carolina, we had fierce snow flurries throughout the day with nothing on the ground. By turns the mountains disappeared, came back, basked in strong sunlight, and hid again. Toward dusk I could see snow at higher elevations sticking to trees and clearings.
I took a picture when it was snowing on our deck with a background of snow falling on the mountain under a blue sky. The flakes would probably have shown up better if I’d used the flash. Would you have joined me in looking for a snowbow?
Sun shining on snow as it fell on the deck and the mountain under blue skies
My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?
Mehrling Muse 