Frosty mornings

One of the beautiful aspects of winter are the frosty mornings. If a picture is worth a thousand words then I'll be silent here and let the pictures speak for themselves. They weren't all taken on the same day but it is days like these that brighten the heart of one who lives for blue skies.

This early morning view from the landing on the stairs was a great way to start the day!

The last snowfall had almost melted away when a light snow and heavy frost coated the deck in sparkles.

The Enchanted Woods

A hoar frost cloaks the world in mystery

A Magical View

Beauty is often present on the coldest days, but on days like these I don't even have to look for the silver lining. It is all around.

Where do the birds go?

I've finally been able to get out and walk again. Our sidewalks haven't been seen in a few weeks now. A few of us have tried to keep them open, but many were never shoveled out after the first snow. I confess, if it wasn't for neighbor Mike and his snowblower I doubt mine would be anywhere near as clear as they are. The streets, though clear, are narrow and because we were getting daily snowfalls, they are heavily salted. The dog has been staring at me from her bed; "Pleeease can't we doooo something????". She can draw the question out with those mournfall, longing eyes.

The last few days have been beautiful. The streets were dry and the sky was blue so Maggie and I took to them for a much needed fresh air boost. As I reached the bottom of the hill and the entrance to our neighborhood, I finally found what I had been looking for. Deer Tracks. They were far apart indicating the deer had to run or leap to get through the deep snow. I also noticed their trail was a narrow one, indicating only 1 or 2 deer were roaming. Normally after a snowfall, a walk or even a casual glance around the neighborhood reveal many traffic patterns of our local herd of deer.



The deer are plentiful around here and they are not shy. If you take a close look at this picture you will see, beyond the birdfeeder, the outline of a deer in the ravine. This was taken from our family room window with a moderately priced camera that has a nice zoom lens. On a few occasions my husband and I have spotted them lying on the ground in the ravine. There were tracks through the earlier snowfalls that let me know they were eating our holly bush, right through the Christmas light netting. (They are much more careful than the squirrels in Florida that routinely ate right through the wiring.) No, the deer around here are not shy, but I haven't seen any tracks in 2 weeks, and I wonder where they go and how do they manage when the snow is deep and the food is buried? I know the basic answer. They hole up under a pine, eat bark and whatever they can find. The children's book "My Side of the Mountain", by Jean Craighead George was a favorite book of mine because it does help me see how things work in the woods. But what about MY deer? Where do they go?

This thought always takes me to another one that recently really puzzles me. Maybe someone out there will have an educated answer. Why do the birds so diligently build nests in the spring, and then never use them when the weather is bad? I can understand that the robin that built the nest under the deck has gone south for the winter. Smart robin! But the bluebirds that inhabited their very own bluebird house last spring left as soon as the fledgling left and never used it again. What do they do in torrential rains, or high winds, or bitter cold and snow? Where do they go when the snow lays 4 inches thick on the tree limbs? Why, oh why, did they let the house sparrow move in this winter?


Perhaps I should have been a biologist because the habits and behavior of animals puzzle me and, in the case of the deer eating my holly, frustrate me. Deer don't like holly according to the label. That brings another thought. If I was a biologist, maybe I could learn how to teach deer to read.

Color My Mood

When we lived in Florida we built a brand new house. It was such a treat to have something so bright, clean, fresh--new. The walls were builder's white. In some rooms I added wall paper, but most of it was light with a small print and white background. The family complained when we came back from a trip that everything was too white, but I really liked it. One of the perks to me was that it was so easy to decorate. Choose a color in furniture, add an accent color, and it looked nice.

When we moved to Pennsylvania, we built another new house, but with this one we began painting right away. I didn't have any real reason for the switch except that times had changed and I was ready for a change. It is a big house, I do all the painting and it took a long time to get it done. By the first winter most of the main floor was done, but the family room and entry way were still white. That first winter was when I came face to face with my need for color.

Pittsburgh is a gray city. I'm not referring to the smog of the 50's. It is a clean city and very environmentally friendly. However, one of the reasons for the severe smog of the steel mill and coal mining days was that the atmosphere frequently produces a low ceiling. Smoke couldn't get out even if it wanted to. Today the air may be clean, but the sky still has a low ceiling and cloud cover is the norm. It is said that we are second to Seattle in precipitation although I've never verified that.

If Pittsburgh is a gray city, winter is a gray season. The sky is light gray. The ground is white. Sun is hard to find. The only break to the gray are the black tree trunks. Do I sound depressing? It's probably just because I haven't seen the sun in 10 days. That first winter really hit home. When I looked outside I saw..., ok, I've already covered that. When I looked around inside I saw... hmmm, exactly the same color. White.

My trips to Lowe's became more urgent. I still hadn't come to grips with the situation, but one day my daughter helped me clarify how I felt. As I told her about the 'next room' I was painting she asked the one question probably plaguing the whole family. "Mom, after living in a white house for 18 years, why are you suddenly painting every room in this house?" (Remember, she would have been happier if I had painted a few things in the old house, too!) Jokingly, I answered her, "Probably because I lived in a white house for 18 years", but the reality was white worked for me in Florida. When I looked outside I saw green everywhere, blue skies, sunshine, flowers. Color was abundant. The white walls, delicate floral wallpaper, were a retreat. It cooled the house from the vibrancy and heat of the outdoors. I loved it.

We've been here 3 years and every room has been painted. When I finally got the entryway and the family room painted I felt settled and at home. It was a huge mood booster. Many of the rooms are done in neutral or earth tones. The family room is the shade of cinnamon and has a welcoming warm feel. The entryway picks up the warm color of the wood floor. It glows. I love it.

As this winter drags on, it is the color of my walls that help me cope. It makes the house warmer, more inviting. On a sunny day, the house lights up, but on the gray days it wraps me in the feel of soft suede and welcomes me home. That is when I appreciate my need for color.

Some Change is Good

It's been 2 weeks now since I ended my Media FAST. Before I really reviewed the results I thought I should wait and see what the long term result was. My final assessment is that it was a success.

In many ways, I enjoyed it. I did participate in the recommended Food Fast on a limited basis, and I was very glad when it ended. I guess I can't be very surprised. I learned years ago that you find what you look for. I felt I would find the food fast annoying, or distracting, but not inspiring. That was true. I found what I expected. However, there were a few pluses that came from it. I found some healthier brands, and both Larry and I found that a bowl of shelled unsalted nuts, (walnuts, sunflower seeds, almonds) and raisins sitting on the counter were a welcome treat. Since I think salt or sugar is the key to any afternoon snack, that's a big improvement.

After a few initial days of readjustment, I was surprised at how quickly I settled into a quiet house. I expected to have the radio or CD player on all the time, but instead I was very selective about when I chose to add noise of any kind. My activities became very focused and intentional. It was a very positive change.

What happened when the FAST was over and I was free to resume my old ways? Yes, I play Free Cell frequently, but so far, I exhibit more control. I've gone back to Face Book, but I'm not compulsively driven to post anything. Two changes stand out to me. First of all, the TV is on much less than before, and I've found it is very easy to turn it off. Secondly, I've probably given up the FaceBook games: Farmville and Farmtown. I was feeling obligated to playing before the FAST. I was starting to resent the demands of having to check in and harvest or plant crops. The challenge had worn thin. I was looking for a reason to stop.

It was the FAST that gave me the chance to step back and see what really was important to me. I read more. I write more. I find it easier to stick to activities that often took a back seat to habits that had gotten in the way.

It was a good experience. I am really glad I did it. Of course, some changes are easier than others. Ask me to go ANYWHERE without my car mug of hot tea (or McDonald's large ice tea in the summer) and you've got a fight on your hands!

What is Cold?

I am in my PJ's watching the Olympics tonight. My overall sensation is "comfy". I haven't seen much sun in the last few days and no matter what I set the thermostat at, the house seems cold. I've reached the time of year where I begin the day by putting on the first layer: long underwear, wool socks; the second layer: jeans or sweat pants, and a sweat shirt, boot socks; and if I'm going out, I add the third layer: boots, (slippers if I'm staying in) and coat, scarf, hat, gloves. If I'm shoveling the coat is a medium weight. If I'm walking, it's a heavier coat. I don't mind the cold when I'm outside, but inside I want to be warm.

Of course, my sister who lives in Canada in an old farmhouse heated only by a wood burning stove, might be laughing at me. But then, last week I was laughing at my friend in Florida who was wrapped in a blanket with a space heater at her feet.

The truth is, cold is relative. I've experienced Florida cold. It is COLD! And very damp. Florida can chill you to the bone in temperatures that feel refreshing in Pennsylvania. In fact, since this weekend is the Daytona 500 I can safely say, I am glad I can watch from my home in my comfy PJ's if I want to. I have been to the 500 when a moderately cool day translated into very cold seats high up in the stands. This weekend, the Daytona will be a cold race, not moderately cool. I'm glad I'm home.

I'm glad at the end of the day I can change out of my layers into my favorite PJ's and warm bathrobe, sit on the couch and take in the triumphs and disappointments of people who are apparently oblivious to the cold; the Winter Olympic Athletes!

What feels cold to me may be freezing to some of my friends and barely noticeable to others. Fortunatly most of us adjust to the climate we live in. I'll watch these athletes, admire their skill and discipline, rejoice when they win, commiserate when they don't, and be grateful that I can watch from the comfort of my home in my warm PJ's.

Scars or Perfection?

It's funny the things that jump start a thought process. Today it was shoveling through all the snow just dumped on the North East. Being recent transplants from the south we didn't have a snowblower. And since we both grew up in Pennsylvania, without a snowblower, it didn't seem like a necessity. This is our 3rd winter here and up until now, it hasn't been a necessity. Larry travels a lot in the winter so I'm often (let's be honest here--ALWAYS) the one who shovels out after a snow. The first winter was an adjustment, but most snowfalls have been 3-6 inches and quite manageable. This snowfall was way beyond manageable.

One other time we had a good bit of snow and a neighbor offered to help clear it off. My husband expressed concern that the plow would gouge the new driveway. I understand how his mind works. No one wants to have to repair something that was just done. And of course, we like to keep things in good condition. Yesterday a neighbor helped me clear our driveway by using his tractor with a front end loader to haul snow away. He was careful not to scoop too closely so he wouldn't damage the driveway. He obviously knows my husband, too! Today I had to go finish what he started. The 2 inches of snow base he left behind was compacted by the weight of the tractor. I had removed a good part of it yesterday, but what was left had frozen overnight and was now a block of ice.

Another neighbor saw me struggling and came over with a sledgehammer to break it up. We made good progress., but there was still a lot to be done. Chuck offered to come back and remove what he had left but he didn't want to scrape too closely. At this point I had decided it would take me days to get the driveway in usuable condition for my all-wheel drive car. And the thought process began.

How do we look at scars? Are they signs of damage and loss or a war fought and won? I have a very large and ugly scar on my abdomen. It is where the doctors removed both of my children at their birth. He was not concerned about cosmetic appearances. He was concerned about life. Since their birth, I have never thought about wearing a bikini. Scars are not pretty. But I've never been ashamed of it either. It is a symbol of something more precious than any thing I can imagine.

A driveway pales by comparison, but the real point doesn't. Any scars Chuck left on our drive as he cleared it to the black top for me will be signs of friendship. They will remind me of neighbors who came out to help each other. I will remember a snowfall so deep that everyone was out for days helping one another out. Mike with his snowblower cleared the sidewalks for several of us. Chuck with his tractor went up and down the street removing heavy snow from neighbor's drives. Kristen bought bread for me at the store. Jen called to offer a plow. (Yes, that sounds like the easy answer, but the plow driver couldn't make it out to our place because the roads were too bad. Ironic, isn't it?)

As a friend recently pointed out to me, how we define perfection affects how we see the real beauty right in front of us. I'll take scars over perfection, any time!

Peace at Last!

Hello everyone, Maggie speaking. I know my mom has been telling you all about the cute little puppy visiting us. I decided it was time to speak up for myself and tell you just how I see it. My mom thinks I'm wonderful, which of course, I am. She also talks as though I don't know how to take care of myself, just because I let the little rug runner jump all over me. I don't know what she expected. Does she really not have a clue??

First of all, let me explain that from the very beginning I was NEVER destined to be a mother! I have a charming little black spot on my beautiful ivory coat; (humans would say they had a beauty mark.) Well, for some reason, my breeder saw it as a flaw and lowered my price with the agreement that my new owners would never have me bred. See what I mean? I was NEVER destined to be a mother!

Secondly, you've seen the pictures. You know the facts. I AM BEAUTIFUL! Everyone says so. If anyone comes to pet me they always comment on what a beautiful dog I am. (my owner almost typed in 'god' by mistake--easy to do.) Even she calls me Gorgeous Girl, so there's no surprise here. In fact, I wish they would go by my given name, Magnolia Rose. It is so much more elegant...so much more ME.

I do not hunt. I love to sniff the many scents outside, but I have no interest in lowering myself to chasing some little critter through the mud. Identifying it's smell is pleasure enough for me.

(Mud is great of course, on a hot summer day, but overall, it doesn't look good on me.)

As my mother says... I was born to be pretty.

Then suddenly, I was expected to help raise a puppy! Now, really! What did she expect? I must admit I learned skills I have never had to use. I learned to show my ugly face, but my teeth didn't faze him. I tried my low voice. He ignored it. I even pushed him away with my paw. He rolled away and ran right back. Finally, I resorted to using my mouth to push him to the ground.

Unfortunately, nothing worked. He never saw me as more than a big Teddy Dog. I think his problem may have been all that long floppy fur that he had. There were times I wasn't even sure I could see his face, so maybe he couldn't see mine! Once after he'd been rolling around on his back, the hair stuck out in every direction like a little floor mop. I couldn't even tell which end was which. Anyway, first thing in the morning, when I was still trying to wake up, and throughout the day, I endured the barking, the jumping, the nibbling, the licking.... it went on and on. My saving grace was that since he is a puppy he took long naps. Phew!

I am happy to say he has gone home now and I can get caught up on my naps. Mom says maybe if I had tried the mouth thing, and the teeth thing, and the low voice thing all at the same time he would have gotten the message to Leave ME alone!, but who knew? I told you... from the beginning I was never meant to be a parent!

You know, all this talk about Pepper makes me realize it's been pretty quiet here the last couple of days. I wonder if he's going to come visit?