We have huge mountains of snow piled all around our building, created by the ever faithful plowers and their machinery. The gentle hill leading to the park outside our front door is heaped high, and it looms like a wall of white in our patio door view. Joe calls the hill “The Matterhorn”. Dylan loves to run up The Matterhorn on his long retractable leash. Then he lies down and rolls his cylindrical little body back down. He does this several times each day, with a look of sheer euphoria on his face.
Dylan’s currently favorite pastime notwithstanding, I am thinking “enough’s enough”! I’m ready to move on to the next items on the agenda–thawing winds and mucky March, eventually leading to warm breezes and vistas of GREEN!
Except for the pretty Valentines I received, all decorative vestiges of winter have been packed away. Most of my red glassware has been stowed in a china cabinet–having been supplanted on tables and open shelves by Vasoline glass, clear crystal, pressed glass, and Depression era glassware in delicate shades of aqua, lemon yellow, and pink.
I’m buying a live house plant every time we shop. Even WALMART (called “WALLY WORLD” by our son, Eric) has live house plants. Joe thinks we don’t have room for more plants, but I keep finding extra space by stacking the pots on footstools and extra tables in our windows, and hanging them from cute little wrought iron hangers–courtesy of HOME DEPOT.
Then there are fake flowers–actually quite lovely. Yellow “tulips” grace a wall planter fashioned by a friend who is a potter. The phony posies have even made it outdoors to our garden. A farmer’s antique milk can filled with pink “roses” hangs on a trellis, along with a garland of “forsythia”. The riot of pink and yellow warms our view, otherwise dominated by the snowy Matterhorn!
My choice of apparel goes into a state of denial this time each year. When I was little (a few centuries ago) I tried to quit wearing long cotton stockings in February–while begging my mother to let me wear knee socks or ankle socks instead. I can recall Mother folding her arms and staunchly refusing my requests. She always said, “You are rushing the season“!
Now I can wear whatever I want, and I’m still rushing the season–albeit with caution. I refuse to wear brown, grey, or black skirts again until next fall. But it’s easy to pull a poufy, flamboyant gypsy skirt over my WINTER SILK long johns. Sheer, romantic style blouses can be draped over a cashmere sweater in a springy hue. Strands of colored beads never fail to complete the picture of a funky woman who refuses to brook any more winter in her life–at least for a few months!
Meanwhile, I keep checking online for our zip code’s 10 day forecast. It’s WINTER TIMES 10! Oh well, I’m having a lot of fun–in my deluded state of DENIAL!
Margaret L. Been–All Rights Reserved
Just caught up with your postings for February, Enjoyed them immensely. I have a poem that I’m waiting for March to post entitled “moods” about wearing Yellow despite the season. I understand the desire for “green”. My husband has herbs growing in our bedroom window. Our snow is mostly melted and very patchy but we are several hundred miles south of you. Love your artwork!
Herbs in the bedroom! How wonderful. I think I’d wake up hungry for something with cilantro and oregano in it!
And going to sleep to wafts of lavender! We could do this, as our bedroom faces south.
Where do you live? We are supposed to get a big snow dump, coming up from Illinois. A last hurrah! 🙂
We live south of St.Louis. Only rain this time in our forecast with a chance of a stray flake tomorrow.We got up to 62 yesterday and have melted off the last remnants of our snow.
62 sounds good! One of these days, water will be running in the streets! 🙂