Carl Riener once said that he found snow to be an unnecessary freezing of water. It will get turned back into liquid again sooner or later, so why bother? Those of us who live in the Bay Area can certainly relate. Temperatures rarely drop below thirty two here, and usually happen only when nobody is awake anyway, which strikes me as the most sensible time for such foolishness to take place. One plus for the chill settling over the area at present is that our usually yappy dogs don't disturb the neighbors nearly as much. They whine to go outside, and, in my responsibility as cheif dog doorman I can let them out, secure in the knowledge that, no matter what their intentions when they went outside, they quickly decide to do their business and beg to be let back in, with no unnecessary conversations with the critters on the other side of the fences. The larger, deeper throated denizens of 'over there' don't have their usual enthusiasm for racket either.
One of the characteristics of winter that I seem to forget about every year is how much quieter it is. Doors and windows remain closed all day. People shut out the outside world and become more intimately aware of their own indoor surroundings. I am pretty sure that winter is when the seeds of most remodelling projects first sprout, just waiting for things to warm up so that they can blossum fully into open spaces, inconvienience, and the occassional humiliation for persons such as myself, who end up on the wrong end of the hammer once more. To my mind, there is no right end of a hammer.
The first part of winter here in the gentle latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere are sort of OK because rain is a novelty, and we all busy being stressed out by the Holiday season. After New Years, things slow down, and about all a man in a relationship has to worry about is Valentine's day. We have all remembered how to drive in the rain again (I don't think they ever get it down South) and we all have time to notice how truly crappy it is to track mud into the house and get tired of intercepting the dogs to get their feet clean before coming back in. We have a mat outside the back door that says 'wipe your paws' but they are obstinate creatures, and care only for their own comfort.
My brother and sister live in Oregon and have caught the local virus that makes you think it's actually fun to pitch a tent in the snow and spend the night with a couple of dogs for company and a cup of warmish tea or coffee and a granola bar for breakfast. I don't go to Oregon much in winter. Christmas shopping will soon program me to throw some sort of jacket onto the back seat of my car, just in case I have to walk from the far end of a parking lot. That is a habit that, sadly, has not yet established itself this year, and I have at least one bitter lesson under my belt already.
The tee shirts and shorts that comprise my summer uniform are all stowed away now, and once the dangers of Valentine's day have been sucessfully navigated, I will start counting the days until we get that little false spring, which fools us every year, around the beginning of March, and go through the slough of despond that follows, certain in the knowledge that it can't stay cold and/or rainy for too much longer. God, it's nice to hear the first lawnmower of spring, and find out what the neighbors have been arguing about.
Causes David Beemer Supports
Wife works as an advocate for Seniors. Sponser a child through World Vision