11.09.17

We’ve been home nearly a week now and have yet to see the sun.  Our road has been plowed twice and every day is a wintry mix of freezing rain or snow, and an inversion keeps fog and gray clouds hovering low over the lake.  When I drive into town, the fields look like aliens must have whisked the farmers away.   Tractors sit empty, trapped in the fields, and the round hay bales, draped in snow, look like an army of old men, hunching their shoulders against the cold.  The nearby snow-tel site is recording four times the amount of snow as this time last year.  The forecast, as far out as I can see, is exactly the same–as in the month of February.  Winter has come early.

Snow shrouds our outdoor furniture, as well as the aluminum boat stuck on the ramp at the dock.   Don is shoveling a path from the driveway to wheel down more firewood, and another path down the hill to access the wicker furniture, so we can get it stored in the boat house.  He has a tall ladder stationed next to the dry-docked sailboat so he can keep knocking off ice and snow which weighs down the gray tarp which covers it.   When I come down the road, the battleship gray of the tarp makes me think a Navy ship somehow got off course and ended up on our property.  And, we are in serious need of more gravel to fill the trash cans lining our steep and twisty road.  So much Winter, so soon.

Inside, I’ve been fluffing my nest.  I took Halloween off the fireplace mantle, and moved to Fall with leaves and branches, but when Rita told me she was going straight to Christmas, I decorated it with faux evergreen boughs and fairy lights, with just a few golden-colored leaves in homage to the yellow Tamaracks, dusted with snow in the forest.  Although the kitties are now fat, I’ve taken pity upon them out in the elements, and because they have to deal with the menacing raccoon who comes into the garage, steals their food, and disturbs them sleeping on the heating pad-covered bench.   These sheepskin rugs looked to be exactly what I needed to keep their claws from tearing at the upholstery, when we all sit by the fire for cocktails.  They wait side by side at the glass door, right at 5:00.  When I let them in last evening, and sat down on the sheepskin for a nice little snuggle, they would have nothing to do with the rugs, or me.  Chateau went to the bedroom and settled in on top the down comforter, and Gary just roamed the house.  I guess maybe this is just cats being cats, but, perhaps, I’m over-reacting to this sudden and serious onslaught of Winter.  We have a L O N G way to go in Winter, resistance is futile, stay calm, and just settle in.