Saturday, February 26, 2011

Last night, as my husband gathered clothing for his morning bike ride, he came up one sock short.
 As finding lost things is one of my talents (because I get so much practice), I commenced the hunt. 
In short order, I found the sock on the laundry room floor.
"It was right here," I said, pointing, "in between the two hamsters."
The path between brain and mouth is many-forked.

Friday, February 18, 2011

A sign of the season

When the greens turn brown, take them down.
That's my guideline for when to (reluctantly) remove the pine roping that decks our porch beginning in early December each year. The greens add such a festive touch, and I'm always a bit wistful when it's time do that "de-decking." 
A welcome snowdrop
Yesterday was the day, but as I worked my wistfulness gave way to gratitude. On a day when the temperature topped 60 degrees, how could it not? Mid-winter lies behind us, and my senses are firmly fixed on spring. The signs are everywhere.
For example, I left the house yesterday without my hat and gloves -- and not because I couldn't find them. Some adventurous types even left their coats at home.
On Wednesday I looked up and saw a swath of Canada geese sweeping northward. (I don't care if some of those geese never went south this winter. Birds heading north is a sign of spring, period.)
       In our front yard, one lone snowdrop is blooming by the front steps. Other bulbs are just beginning to show, clumps of spring shooting through cracks in the earth, looking like tiny surfboards planted on end.
Driving to work yesterday I dared to open my car windows. (No scraping required.) I felt the breeze and heard the splash of tires rolling through running water. It wasn't raining, just a river of melting snow.
Spring officially begins on March 20. Winter still may show us its worst, but we can look at it like a last hurrah.


Sunday, February 6, 2011

Momentary "Oy":
Take yesterday, when I experienced a semi-senior moment.
My husband and I had walked down to the diner for breakfast. The morning was wet and sloppy, and I had used my umbrella.
I hung it with my husband's coat to drip dry, and by the time I paid the check, I was ready to walk out without it. (My husband, bless him, spotted it and brought it with him.) 
 As we were about a block into our walk home, I thought -- and then said out loud -- Oh! Do you have my umbrella?
  Then I noticed: It was open -- and in my hand!
Ah, the joy of the 50s.