Baby it’s cold outside… Baby it’s cold inside. Baby it’s cold almost everywhere right now. And it’s not even winter yet. You would think we get this kind of cold in January… and then it goes away mid February, like it should, like any good weather system would. Did anyone think to check the calendar? Maybe it is January, and we all missed something here. Christmas might be over and done with, oh no the sky is falling… and it’s made up of white flakes. Baby it’s cold outside.
So to honour the bone biting, deep chilling, freezing temperatures, frozen fingers, and frosty feet, and because I simply can’t wrap my mind around anything other then a image of a steaming mug of hot chocolate right now, here are some words for cold. Chilling Cold, Frozen Frigid, Frosty White, Winter wonderland Bitter, withering Brisk, Crisp Raw, harsh Snowy, shivery Brrrrrr… Starting to shiver yet? A long time ago I wrote a post titled “words for rain”, inspired by a long stretch of gloomy, sodden weather that we were trying to live through… weeks, and weeks of wet. It’s my most popular post of all time. Apparently there are still people out there looking for words for rain… wet, gloppy, gloomy, sodden, downpour… you know, those kind of words.
But I digress, or maybe I’m melting like a snowflake on a fingertip. So put down that snowball, sideline the shovel, wiggle on those warm woollies, sit down and add your words for cold, I know that you will come up with some frosty favourites. Freezing, frozen, crisp I’m blogging sporadically during this Christmas season… but I’m hoping to post at least twice a week, which days you might ask? Me too… hope to figure this out soon.
“ OUCH” he says, and I cringe. “That must have hurt,” I tell him, handing over yet another string of seemingly endless Christmas lights. The bitter cold makes the strings difficult to untangle, and as he stood up he hit something hard with his head.
Gloves not holding out the bitter cold, sun laughing at our weak attempts to warm up in it’s rays. “Stupid hanging baskets” he mutters, probably thinking why on earth do they have to be hanging around. A good question I suppose, maybe someone forgot to take them down? Or maybe someone [I guess it was me] was going to fluff them out a bit more with some seasonal winter decor. Adding some crisp, fragrant evergreen branches gathered from the farm, and p inecones foraged from beneath the towering pines that lined the bluff. A few festive ribbons, some lights, and the seasonal decorating would be done before the weather turned. But then… life, stuff, things, got in the way. It got put off for another day. And another.
The beautiful Autumn weather ebbed away… sure I added a branch or two, even a armful of dried hydrangea blooms that I managed to cut in the garden before Nature turned on us. The hanging baskets hung, like laundry half dried, finished to the eyes from the street, but not equal to what I had in my head. And then it got cold. A early cold snap, my ex farmer neighbour told me… it might even last a while. Cold as in very, very cold, frozen icicles made from clear dripping water kind of cold. Hat, and gloves, plug your truck in, wrap that scarf, and scrape the windshield each time you go out kind of cold. Slippery roads, and frozen ground feathered with snow. The pinecones sat waiting, chores needed to be done. And it got colder. Perfectly useful evergreen branches fell from trees during nightly snowfalls. Slipping through trees, noises cracking us awake in the middle of the night. Mornings brought them to light, frozen to the ground, ice and snow sticking like Velcro. The calendar rolled on, like it always does, despite the piling up of things to be done. Seasonal decorating got moved back until it warmed up. It continued to get colder and colder.
There hang the baskets, beautiful, dark cone shaped, filled with branches, and twigs, hydrangea blossoms all pushed into soil that once, long ago, wasn’t frozen solid. Now it is cold. And unless I’m willing to bring out a blow torch and risk a fire, nothing is going to melt that icy soil in time for Christmas. Ah, the lament of those that put things off. But for every procrastinator there is a optimist’s exclamation. You never know, maybe the weather’s going to break!
It’s early in the morning, the light is a claustrophobic layer of darkness, the early promise of spring has been broken. Groaning I feel like covering up my head and continuing on with hibernation, which is what the rest of the world is doing right now. Winter has decided to give us a memory to take with us well into summer, and it’s approaching the bitter cold temperatures of a normal winter for this climate. He waves goodbye to me crouching like a zombie at the computer, “I’m getting the paper” he says. But not before he flings open all the drapes on the lower floor exposing us like frantic goldfish in a round bowl with no where to hide. Light spills onto the lawn, the frozen tundra a landscape of grey mounds, and misshapen branches. I mutter under my breath, as the cold seemingly permeates every corner, the furnace furiously trying to keep up with the sudden change to chill. “Keep them closed until the light changes.” “Nonsense” he declares “it’s daylight in the swamp.” We have this discussion too many mornings, me insisting that they stay closed until we can at least make out objects in the yard, him declaring it daylight… in the swamp, his favourite good morning wake up call.
He manoeuvres the life saving oil filled heater from beside my legs where it is barely giving off heat, to a spot nearer the cat, who is crouched sulkily on the rug besides my chair. It’s survival of the warmest here, and the fur coated, spoiled wake up call is demanding all available heat sources. It’s a fight I lose every morning, but I am resigned to the cold now, and soon it will be spring, I think to myself. Keys jingling, summer light jacket undone, he fails to see the shivers that rack my body. My feet frozen to the floor I can only nod, it’s dark, it’s early, and it’s cold. He seems to not notice any of that. “Shouldn’t you be putting a winter jacket on to go trek up the frozen north and get the newspaper?” I ask him only half jokingly, this despite what the temperatures are… and this week they are the coldest of the winter. It’s fine he reassures me… he doesn’t feel the cold. “Sweetie, put another layer on, and some gloves,” I implore him… most people wear winter jackets, “why don’t you try yours on, it’s cold out there.”
Sitting here barely moving, the darkness pressing against the windows like a peeping Tom, snow a stiff horse blanket outside, thick ice in streaks on the streets, I just can’t see not feeling the cold. I day dream of white beaches, and warm surf… not chilled limbs, and white landscapes. “You're not blogging about this are you?” he asks, I merely smile sagely, paybacks, and all that… take my heater away, what more do I need to say.
A while later the door opens, and a gust of cold artic air permeates the house, “daylight,” he exclaims, “here feel” he laughs as he extends a frozen finger my way. Giggling, I duck out of the way. The cat purrs happily in his domed insulated house the best and warmest spot in the place, the oil filled heater situated right in front of him. His duty is done for a few blissful hours, he’s woken us up, the can openers are moving around, he can now go back to sleep. My feet have no feeling, there is a wicked draft around my legs, the light creeping through the slats in the window blinds barely illuminates the movement of the birds searching for breakfast. This time it’s truly daylight in the swamp.
Christmas is over, I’ve noticed those who are taking down the decorations, and removing the tree already. Turning the house back into something of order, for another year. For those of us who don’t decorate until the week before Christmas, and put the tree up on the Eve of… it’s still a few days to go.
There are those who leave their seasonal decor up until February… but to each their own. I personally will leave our creamy white lights up until the days lengthen enough to close the curtains just before dinner. “Call me a rebel, why don’t you.” But with grey foggy days, and a whopping 14 inch snowfall of fluffy white stuff between yesterday, and today, I think I am justified. They’re wrapped around the bench on the front porch… not too Christmassy to leave up for a little while longer. Lately I’ve noticed that every time I take my down fill jacket off, there always seems to be a feather stuck somewhere on my clothes… Could I be moulting? A small price to pay for comfort, and warmth… because the snow is unpacking even more cold weather from it’s suitcase… it’s going to be brrrrr cold they tell us. What’s it like where you live, a cold winter, or is it balmy for this time of the year? Take a look at the photos in this post, I took them yesterday, add about another 5 or 6 inches to that and you should be around what we are looking at today.
Something really interesting has happened this winter. It’s now our 3rd winter… and the first one that I have really opened my heart to. Fully experiencing it in all it’s bitterness, darkness, and braving the outdoors as much as I can. “The cold is rather delightful, I know… I’m in shock that I wrote that also.” Even when it’s really, really cold, such as back in November. I try to walk outside as much as I can. Here’s how I see it, there are no mosquitoes… although it does make gardening a little hard, when it’s all hidden under that white stuff. But it’s doable this year… I’m starting to wonder if I am acclimatizing. And I am no longer lamenting the lack of things to photograph… or the lack of light.amazing what a positive, determined, talking to your inner photographer will do for your outlook.
The Halloween pumpkins we had saved were cracked open and tossed into the trees in the front yard, right next to the bird feeder. They are there for the deer, who really appreciate the nibbles when it’s this cold. And then the other day we saw two deer sauntering out in front of our house in the middle of the day, I would have taken a photo but… “They were late for lunch up the road, and not willing to hang around for me to get my camera.” As they passed through the trees, I could almost imagine that they were Santa’s reindeer, they looked similar, and they paid no attention to the cars coming down the street. Winter will demand it’s payment in January… due date much sooner then we expected… the weather will be cold and snowy. But I have a few tricks up my down covered sleeve also, so take that Winter! What about you? Are you dreading the next few wintery cold months, or will you just breeze through it? Thinking warm thoughts, and sipping hot chocolate.
When we moved up here last winter, and I nearly froze in the –20 C weather, [apparently it wasn’t as cold as usual] they kept telling me, just wait for summer. All this spring, as the mercurial minded menopausal Mother Nature gave us one barely sunny day, then a cold shivering rainy day, they kept telling me, wait for summer. “Oh just you wait, they said,” it’s going to warm up here so fast and stay so hot, you will wish for winter all over again. Don’t you just love how people grandstand? Actually they weren’t kidding. They were right. And now it’s hot, hotter then winter, hotter then the coast ever was in May, and it’s not even summer yet. It’s easily topping 30C [very hot] one day, and the next it’s cold again. How’s a body to figure this out? And this isn’t even hot yet… oh let me whine, please!
On Mother’s Day we had my parents over for dinner, our house is cool for them. It was HOT outside, and knowing they would be cold during the dinner inside we left all the windows and doors open to warm it up. Bad mistake, at least for us. They were still cold, it was 28 C outside, [hot], and we sweated all night. And then at 5 am the furnace came on. Yes the furnace, because it’s on a programmable thermostat. And apparently it thought it was cold in here, wish it had done that during the winter when it really was cold in here.
The other night during a blissfully breezy evening as we sat outside on the porch on Eagle watch so the Boo could wander the backyard unawares, there was a visitor. All of the backyards in the neighbourhood are chain linked fenced, and I am becoming more and more thankful for that, because we didn’t know until the next night that the visitor was a raccoon when my husband saw the brown bandit taking it’s sweet time. A very big, fat, and totally comfortable strolling in the gathering dusk, raccoon. So now we have Eagle watch during the day, and Raccoon watch during the evening hours, and a furnace that thinks it should come on at 5 am to “warm up the house” when it’s still reeling over the previous day’s heat.
Add in our grown adult neighbours that think the streets are perfect for their rather loud motorcycles to race up and down all weekend afternoons, regardless that this is a rural subdivision with children biking on the streets. They are the ones with the weed strewn front lawn, and here I am worried about a few dandelions in my lawn? Sound carries here against the mountains, and we get to enjoy the ripping loud muffler-less motorcycles as they parade up and down our streets in groups. Mind you, these are 40 something adults, not teenagers.
Makes me think I should go and program their thermostats, and let the raccoon loose in their yard, that’ll teach them. Ah the bliss of living in the country subdivision.
Thanksgiving is over. Nothing more then a jiggle. on the hips, here in Canada. We [ahem, hint, hint] have it in October. It’s over, and Christmas is on it’s way. I’ve got ideas, I’ve got plans. I’ve got greens, and I’ve got pine cones, and branches. Now, doesn’t that sound like I”m going to burst into song and dance… I’ve got rhythm… I’ve got blues… [and cold toes which doesn’t rhyme with cones, but what can you expect]. I think that’s from some musical or other… it’s too cold to think what it might be right now.
But I was looking at the calendar, and lo, yonder in my brain, there is a bright light, there aren’t that many days before Christmas. My brain was whirling, like it is wont to do at times… and horary, it’s not even 3 am, my goodness this is unusual. So I was thinking I need a theme for Christmas, something that inspired me to actually take more photos, and enjoy doing it at the same time. A continuing feeling, a sense of atmosphere, a thought process through the month of December that carries me along, making blogging, and looking forward to writing posts enjoyable, no more of that “honey are you done, the show is coming on any second, where are you?” stuff for me. This should last a few days, or until the light drops too much to take photos Hey, I’m a realist, but I try not to be. We were out yesterday at the farm, gathering greens, it was beautiful, bright, the sun was shining, the temperature was cold below zero. There was hoar frost on the grass, fresh bear prints on the bridge, and a mist from the melting water causing the sun to stream through the branches. The dogs were running around with such a sense of giddiness that they had to take a dip in the frozen creek numerous times… nothing like a hot dog, and a cold dip after a sauna.
Count the toes, yes there are more then 5, that my dears is not human! My fingers were cold, the buttons on my camera seemed to stick, and each time I looked in the viewfinder I was worried that the LCD screen would get too frosty and not thaw out later. Got to remember not to breath when I take a photo in cold weather.but it was fun. Gathering is fun. Gathering sounds like a great theme to me. After all isn’t a great part of Christmas the excitement leading up to the day? The gathering of family, friends, decorations, food, gifts?
So I bring you my new Christmas theme… Gathering. Make of it what you may… Think of it as the 12 days of Christmas, spread out over 3 posts a week, Muddy Boot Dreams style. Hope that you will tune in as soon as you finish your turkey dinner, because I’ve got greens, and I’ve got pine cones… Now I just need to mull this over for a day or so.
I know, I forget that not everyone hears those songs in their head, see you Friday.
If you live in a cold climate you are most likely familiar with block heaters. And then again, you probably also have a stash of hand warmers somewhere. I know that they are becoming some of my most treasured possessions. Well… along with heated seats, but we don’t have those… yet. Lurking outside the unheated storage locker the morning after we moved up here, waiting for the moving truck to come, almost every thing we owned in it. [Thank you for not falling over the cliff on that treacherous sometimes snowy road on the way up here.] It was –8 C, a huge change from the green, lush, wet winters of the coast. Part of me was longing for that more temperate weather as I stood freezing outside, the cold wind whipping my hair, and the sounds of the big trucks roaring past on the hi-way near the edge of town. The other part of me was wondering what we had gotten our selves into. Who moves in the beginning of December to somewhere this cold? Thinking that the truck might come earlier then we had anticipated, we had jumped out of bed early that morning.
The day before was chaotic, exhausting, and long, had started early in the morning, and it had taken longer then we thought to get to our destination at the farm that night. We had to finish cleaning up the condo, and found that we just couldn’t fit in everything left behind by the movers for us to take in our truck. Frantically giving away “stuff”, asking if friends in the building could store precious items that the movers wouldn’t ship. Did I mention that we had accidentally packed away two boxes of ammunition in February, [almost a year ago] and then found out that they were on the list of non shippable items. Every single box had to be reopened as it was taken from the storage locker and searched. Finally we found each item of contraband, and had organized it to be taken up with us.
So there we were, standing outside of our storage locker, cold, tired, feet frozen, and wondering if the start of our new lives was worth it. I had forgotten to bring any mitts, or a hat. We had rarely needed them down on the coast, and the movers were late. They arrived, cheerful, with warm coffee, mitts and hats. Smart movers. Silly me, I had turned down the offer of hand warmers from my Mom, not something I will ever do again. It’s not cold out, I won’t need them I thought. The cold proved me wrong.
We discovered the joys of heated seats that day when my BIL pulled up in his new truck, and let us in to wait the arrival of the movers. Ahhhh there is nothing like block heaters, hand warmers, and heated seats. Trust me.
The poor thermostat in this house, it goes up, it goes down, and then it goes up again. I’m cold, he’s hot, and the Boo, well lets just say he hangs out where the heat is. It’s cold here, inside and out. We have a different idea of what a comfortable indoor temperature consists of… so I bundle up, and he sweats, that way both of us are happy to complain how hot/cold it is to the other. To stay warm I make sure to layer well, walk outside when the weather permits, drink lots of hot tea, and make tasty homemade soups. On a cold day, hot soup tastes really good.
Anything that warms you up when your toes are freezing is great. You can thank Dr.Oz for being the inspiration behind this quick, and easy soup that I made the other day. He mentioned how good it is to drink a glass of water, with lemon, grated ginger, and a dash of cayenne pepper in it. Supposed to do everything from make your wrinkles disappear, to get your heart racing, or something, I am not sure, it’s Dr. Oz what can I say. That got me to thinking of soup, I don’t know how… it just did. I put together some homemade chicken broth, you could use prepared one if you liked. A cooked chicken breast, leeks, carrots, potatoes, ginger, lemon, garlic, and cayenne. After sautéing the thinly sliced [wash them well] leeks, and half of a onion, and the garlic, in a little dash of butter, I added the carrots, and potatoes cut into small bite size chunks. This is called sweating the veggies, and brings out the flavours… just imagine how tasty my hot husband is when the thermostat creeps up past 18C. That’s 64 F barely above freezing for my US friends…
I heated up the broth, added almost tender veggies to it, squeezed in some lemon, grated some ginger, and added a careful dash of cayenne pepper for seasoning. It’s a delicate tasting soup full of flavour, layered with good for you heat. And it saves you money on your heating bill, because hot chick-a-leekie soup will warm you from the inside out. Give it a try, just don’t go too heavy on the cayenne pepper unless you are taste testing as you go along, that stuff packs a punch. Here’s the recipe, kind of, I’m not just a seat of your pants blogger, I’m a no recipe kind of girl too. I’m always making up recipes on the fly, by imagining how the ingredients would taste together.
Chick-a-leekie soup 3 cups chicken broth 1 chicken breast cooked, cut into strips, or cubes, or you could either sauté it before the veggies, or boil it in the broth. 1 leek, washed, thinly sliced 1 potato cut into bite size chunks 1 carrot cut into bite size chunks 1/2 cooking onion 1 inch of fresh ginger, finely grated 2 cloves of fresh garlic juice of half a fresh lemon, or less to taste dash or so of cayenne pepper to taste Sauté veggies, onion, leeks, and garlic in olive oil, or butter until almost tender. Add chicken breast cook one to two minutes to heat. Add to heated chicken broth, stir in grated ginger, lemon juice, and cayenne pepper. Simmer for a few minutes until veggies are tender, and flavours have meshed. Serve hot and prepare to feel toasty.
It’s not that hard to find something to love about this cold wintery month. Sometimes you need to dig a little deeper under that thick downy coating of white to find it. We are currently shovelling, and blowing through a EPIC, [yes, they used all caps] breaking snowfall.
It’s a whopper, we can’t find the truck, or the driveway, and it was ploughed the day before. My entire garden is just one undulating mound of glossy white sprinkles… no shrubs, bushes, or plants are visible. Transit shut down in the AlmostBigCity nearby. Two snow days for schools, something that hasn’t happened in 45 years. The “Old Guy”s are telling us that they have never seen this much snow in such a short time. This in a part of snowy Canada that is used to big snowfalls. Considering most of the old guys are in their 80’s and 90’s, hence the term “Old Guys” I will have to take their word for it. My measly 3 winters here doesn’t really give me much perspective on it. Other then, it was oh my gosh cold that first winter, and the snow seems to stay around forever.
Branches have been cracking off of our giant towering Fir trees… piling up in the yard like a mound of pic up sticks. Not the kind of game you want to be playing when the trees are doused with so much snow they threaten to crack at one more snowflake. When the overly doused mounds of snow start to fall from a thirty foot tree… ”AVALANCHE” Just don’t be standing underneath one when it happens. So many of you have nice things to say about January, here are a few of them.
Lady Fi: loves January with it’s vibrant sunsets. And she takes the most beautiful shots of them.
Donna says: I love January for the warm fires, cold fresh air, gorgeous snowy landscapes and yummy bowls of steaming soup. So true Donna.
Carolynn said: What I love about January is the days get longer and we're one step closer to Spring.
Blondie finds: inspiration, those goals, the projects, the long forgotten pleasures of needlework or a crossword puzzle. And says she can finally relax.
Lorrie tells us that:I like January because it's a good excuse to stay indoors, wrap up in a throw by the fire and read just for the pleasure of it.
Nancy finds the:snow covered ground and frosted trees are definitely more beautiful than the brown, dry landscape without it
Power has been out twice, and most likely will happen again, so I am writing as quick as I can, saving as I go… fingers crossed, toes frozen.
“The Boo isn’t impressed with being inside but doesn’t think that going outside is any better.” He has this perplexed look when faced with mounds of snow where only a few days before he could walk on the shovelled paths. We are taking as it comes… it’s beautifully white, and it’s nice to see the deer prints in the front lawn in the morning. Here’s a bit more of the wonderfully January things you had to say.
Country Gal likes the fresh air: I love bundling up and going outside in the snow and cold for a walk or to play with my Miggs, especially on a sunny winter day then when I come in I feel invigorated and all fresh aired out.
Judy has a great attitude:I'm looking forward to each season, that is my new year's resolution.
Carla loves January for many reasons, and:January also is the start of one of my favourite TV shows, Downton Abby.
Diana wrote the most beautiful sentence: But we had a bowl of blue sky embroidered with clouds, arching from horizon to horizon.
Pamela knows that:January days are already getting longer.
Stephanie mentioned that:January days are already getting longer. And they are.
Ann will be busy:January is the month of birthdays.
Laura knows that January:makes me realize how much I love spring which is one day closer with each passing January day.
Ellen’s cheering for January:January's not a bad little month it just needs some appreciation!
Cristal loves January because:the days are ever so slightly longer.
Tamago is very adventurous:What I enjoy in January, or any cold days, is to have hot tea along with ice cream!
So I’m off to wade through the white stuff, it’s up to my knees, and you all know how tall I am. January Joy to all.
As I write this the late afternoon sun is pinging off of the edges of the glass in the window of my house. Circling the room, like a bird in flight let loose from it’s cage. Dancing off of the walls, scattering gems and prisms of glittering colors that cling to the ceiling and slide down the walls.
Out past the window the swaying sun beams filter through branches of towering fir trees. Laying a scorching bright light that is bent off of ice patches without melting anything. Soon the sun will be sinking fast into the cold, snow covered dark blue mountains. I want to wave, lift my hand, and wish it a good trip, but something always holds me back. My brain forms words that my mouth won’t say. Please stay for a little while, each day you leave earlier. You’re a good friend who’s short visits are never long enough at this time of year. One who is walked to the door with that air of regret wafting in the cold air behind them because they couldn’t extend their stay. Not like some. Those who overstay their welcome, such as Winter. It’s return visit booked a few weeks from now, like a unwanted guest, we can’t truthfully say that we would like Winter to stay as long as it intends. Oh sure, we will primp the guest room, after all courtesy demands that we at least maintain a certain level of welcoming smiles, and happy greetings. All for a guest who keeps the hot water too cold, and leaves a ring of frost around the windows in the morning. It’s not that we don’t like this season, it’s just that Winter overstays, won’t leave, despite all of our gentle reminders in February, and rather pointed comments in March. Can’t Winter take a hint?
We are not running a Bed and Breakfast for the Seasons, move on, hope that you have enjoyed your stay. Hope you enjoyed your stay, come again… just leave your next visit for a while. Sun going down signifies the time when the ground feeding quail, and cooing doves move to the feeders. A frantic dash from front yard to back, pecking and darting swiftly from overloaded dish to dish. It’s a feast legendary among birds. a small price to pay for the enjoyment we get out of watching them. Even Phil the flirting pheasant graces us with his occasional presence, holding court without his hens, royally coloured glamorous feathers gleaming in the setting sun. Suet cakes high in wire cages, rough bark catering to those with clinging claws. Fence posts below to act like inanimate air traffic controllers, a place to land, hang around, to wait in a holding pattern of whirling feathers until it’s your turn. A winged hierarchy disobeyed only when daring flying feathers and much squawking. No one hangs around here after dusk, too many predators, it’s eat and run, then hide, hope to survive both the cold, and the hunters. We indiscriminately feed all and sundry, be they feathered, or fur covered. Bright orange squat pumpkins waiting in the garage for the signs of visiting deer who's first visit is the composter for a appetizer, before dining delicately on bird seed in the front.
I have tarried longer then I thought while writing this, the house cooling down quickly, a parting gift from the sun. I would much prefer wine, chocolates, or even some seasoned sea salt. The cat snores most indelicately under a warm blanket, completely comfortable with my absence, no warm body needed after the addition of a hot water bottle. Spoiled, you might say? Not him, our chaser of feline dreams. No fan of our winters up here, wishing only for the front door to be opened, and then quickly shut when he realizes that the long memories of warm summer days spent lapping up heat are just that. Once a outdoor loving, snow tolerant, fur bundled kitty, he is now a happily domesticated lap cat, as long as there is somewhere warm to sleep, and a full dish of food. A small price to pay for warmth, and constantly attentive doormen. Today we celebrate our 3 year anniversary of arriving in the Okanagan to live out our Muddy Boot Dreams. One large moving van, one small SUV, packed so tightly there wasn’t even room for a sneeze, lots of sad goodbyes, and one sleeping on my lap all the way up here kitty. A cold weather welcome into the warm hearts of our family, and a snowfall the next morning to welcome us home. It’s something we had dreamed of for such a long time, what a wonderful feeling to be on this side of the waiting, to be where we have always felt was “home.” This is simply the most beautiful place to live, and I am grateful that we are able to be here with family, and friends, furry and fleshed. A dream come true. Thanks so much for coming along for the journey, and as it continues…
for the first time since last year is a wonderful feeling. And although some houses still have snow, we are fully brown… not much green in this country. Yet. There are some real signs of a early spring, and I’ve been able to clean up the front garden debris. Searching for old friends looking to see if they March 10th of this year, Otter Lake managed to overwinter, and still somehow being astounded that they did.
March 23rd of last year, Otter Lake It’s a cold place to spend the winter here, not as cold as some bloggers, but still brrr cold. So I am always amazed that the receding snow uncovers a green anything. Hardy perennials, and even a snapdragon or two have survived, and the buds on the trees are starting to swell. Over the weekend we visited Otter Lake, a wild, unkempt bull rush ringed lake, home to visiting, and nesting swans, geese, ducks, blackbirds, and many other birds we don’t get to see. This time last year, it was still heavily coated in ice.actually our first visit was March 23, of last year.
Last year There were masses of trumpeter swans last year, this year only a few. I don’t know if it was the time of the day, or the year.they might be found in a farmer’s field nearby. And we didn’t see any of the beautiful blue herons.
This year. Although the breeze was cold, it was fresh, and held a promise of spring coming soon. The blackbirds called, the ducks quacked, the sun shone. And all was well.
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I think everyone has a tried and true remedy for the common cold. Just like lots of people have a hangover cure. I am not sure how well the hangover cures work, and I’m not eager to find out. To me the best solution would be not to get yourself in that situation. But getting a cold is something that despite our best efforts does happen, sometimes not for years, other times with too much frequency. I do admit that since I started my indoor retail job, I’ve fallen to many a bad one. And for someone who never used to get sick, this is frustrating. Why? And how, I guess are not the important questions, the good one is what to do now that it is starting. Well, I threw my entire arsenal of herbal stuff at this one, but it still took over. Kind of like really bad chickweed. It just started to grow when you turned your back, and then the next thing you knew, it was up to my knees.
My garden, to use a euphemism might be in dire need of a good weeding. Of course if you tend to the soil first, the plants will flourish, and the weeds won’t. I’m tempted to say “oh manure,” and just head back to bed. But there has to be a reason why I am so susceptible to these illnesses. Gar on the other hand, he’s weed free, I mean cold free, for ever and ever. I’m getting caught up in the garden fence here, and confusing my plants, and my head. Might that have something to do with the pounding, and hammering in my head? Or the stuffed zucchini's they planted in my nose. Who knows.
I just know that it’s soon to be the start of a long weekend, I have guests coming to visit, and I am doing everything that I can to encourage this cold to leave. Out darn weed, out.
Winter I know things change they must and it’s good. But you are not who you used to be when I was young. When I was a child you were restless, and everywhere, large and looming, exciting, I looked forward to seeing you, I wondered when you would visit us you were my favourite season. When you scattered snowflakes on my upturned face I giggled with the joy of it all. Now I dread those first snowflakes, and I wonder when and if you will ever leave, winter why did you change? You are everywhere, on the trees, the ground, you take my flowers away, and make it hard to drive anywhere. Why did you change, and when?
The layers of clothing I wore as a child kept out your bitter lashing cold but I didn’t mind, because I didn’t feel cold then. Now I feel the sting of the icy breath you breathe all over me, I shiver and am never warm, when did you change winter?
I used to play in your snow with joyous abandon, now I grumble as I shovel masses of it away, when did you change winter? When did you become a chore, and not a joy.
Or maybe it is I who have changed.
Maybe the glow of childhood dimmed, and winters true colors and cold are showing. I have to learn to see beyond the childhood memory and see the reality the truth that cold as you are you are still my beloved childhood winter. Let’s be friends again, even if both of us have changed.
It’s a rare coincidence here, and whatever weather conditions that it takes to cover everything in hoar frost happened. “Oh my!” And miraculously I wasn’t working that day. Double “Oh My!” I truly think it was a once in a life time experience. Very cold, very dry, and very stunningly wonderful. And it almost never happens here, and if it does, I am working, or it rains right away, or it’s cloudy all day, or foggy, or something spoils it. So my good friend, Floweriscius and I went to Campbell Valley Park that day. That’s her in the photo above. She drove, thank goodness, because everywhere I turned it was a winter glitz snow covered, ice crystal laden branches, and sparkly, sparkly, icy lights bouncing of of the sunlight everywhere moment. I think that I would have driven off the road many times just trying to get the shot. And my shots cannot do it justice, they just can’t give you that feeling, that “living in the moment, and isn’t this the most beautiful thing you have ever beheld moment?” Trust me, it was. I still smile, and remember that feeling, of wonderment. Of how is this possible? And then a deep shiver because it was SOOOOO cold. That kind of feeling.
There were birds everywhere, and all of them were willing to eat out of our hands, not that my hand was out there that much. Tooooo cold, and to many photo ops abounding for me, I was firmly holding onto my camera. There was a real Bambi moment when we were standing on the path in a small patch of sunlight, the birds were twittering, flying from branch to hand, grabbing a seed and letting the next bird come in for a landing. Then the bushes started to rustle, and animals started to creep out from their hiding spots. It was quiet, and peaceful, and everywhere we cautiously turned there was more wildlife. Drawn to us by the thought of food, because of the cold, they seemed perfectly comfortable with us. Circling all around us, quietly waiting for a handful of seeds.
I felt like I was in the Bambi movie… Trust me, it was a moment I will never forget. ♥.
Around here, it’s cold, and more cold, which we call winter, then it’s spring.oh for about 2 weeks. It leaves suddenly, which makes it summer. Full on heat, until it’s Winter again.
My family warned me about this when we talked about moving up here from the coast so it’s not like I didn’t know what to expect. If you only visit for a few times a year, April’s fresh faced beauty, and early September’s sultry nights are more then doable. It’s the months of blah winter, and the intense heat of summer that will do you in nicely… along with the lack of a real spring. One day the ground is white, and frozen the next, it’s hot, and the mosquitoes are biting. The grass needs cutting every second day, until it turns golden toasted brown, which lasts until the next spring. For me it’s a great trade off, the coast has so much rain, we floated away except for 2 weeks in August when it gets hot and sticky, humid dripping, and then summer ends suddenly. But if there is one thing I just have trouble wrapping my head around, that’s the lack of lushness, the undergrowth of green, like a tulle petticoat missing from a ball gown, it’s everywhere on the coast, but lacking here. That and the absolute plodding growth of plants… it takes years to grow a tree here. A shrub that would reach up with leaps and bounds in my old garden, is poking along here. Meagrely pushing out a few shoots, hanging around, taking it’s sweet green time. It grows up here, but not in the snap of a fingers. And while I have a little gardener’s patience, I don’t have tons of it. It’s balanced by the fact that I am a frugal gardener, and it bothers me to pay more for a plant that is twice the size, so I buy them small, and watch em grow. And watch em, and watch em…
Take the humble, and hated with a passion by most gardeners Goutweed, considered by many to be the top of the ten most invasive plants. It’s pretty, creamy white, and bright emerald green foliage hides a thug, it will take over and not just invade, but divide and conquer most gardens. Not here. Gardener that I am, when I first moved in saw a good sprinkling of the poor unloved Goutweed in a neighbours garden, and I warned him against it taking over the yard. “Oh, he said, it’s fine, it’s been here forever… ” I was sceptical, really, that stuff digs in, and it never leaves, even in Alberta… land of the cold and icy summers. He was right though, it’s still in the same well behaved, tiny never spreading patches that it was 3 summers ago. Go figure. Ajuga, also known as Bugleweed, is one any good nursery should warn you about,”oh don’t plant that”… it’s tiny, teeny tiny well behaved, moderate growth up here. Pretty purple flowers in the spring, and bronzy green leaves… that don’t spread. It’s just too hot, and too cold here for most anything to get a foot in the door. Kind of a good thing I suppose, but what a difference from my old garden. And unheard of on the coast.
That’s why I showed you the photos of the dry stream bed newly finished on my previous post, pretty, pristine, dark soil, green plants. Because you won’t recognize it in a few years, even a few weeks. Yes most of the plants will take their sweet time and fill in. but so will the rocks, and the soil. They will be covered with a layer of Fir needles, and I will have to regularly remove branches from the gravel by hand. That’s life up here in the Okanagan, and you know, despite the obvious lack of green, I’m learning to live with it, and love it. Land of big skies, wide mountains, and even wider valleys. I see cows, and horses every day, ducks in the ditches that line the fields. I have pheasants, and quail in my backyard all year round. Soon they will bring their babies to show and tell at supper time. I love that. My heart soars when something crosses the road in front of me, like it did yesterday, and it’s not a farm cat, it’s a well, it might be a weasel, or a muskrat. I’m not sure it ran too fast to get the camera. When I go biking on the back roads, through the farm land, it’s not unusual to spook deer, and my husband has seen bear when he is out running his miles. I used to get excited when we saw a raccoon in the condo, well not excited in a good way of course, I always worried about Bootsie our cat.
So yes, it’s a trade off, no airplanes overhead, no more seagulls waking us up at 4 am… just the Boo. Fields layered with the chirps of birds, the sound of tractors ploughing, and sowing next years wheat. The whiff of manure on the air. Sun setting into the embrace of the mountains. We call it home, gout or no gout. If you know of any bloggers that you would like to nominate for Monday matchups let me know by email please. I’m looking for bloggers who are new, looking for a audience, or would like to be introduced to other bloggers who have the same interests and are having a hard time finding them.
Cold hands, warm heart. Rush last steps to home. Winter chill settles on skin.
Rough branched pussy willows, blossoms so soft. Gathered from the ditch…precious winter gift. I'm the first. This time. Oh dear… Birds of a feather flutter startled. Once again, the look… Mental note, make noise first. Breath exhale, deep, winter yoga, no rush. Relax. Steel key rasps, knob squeaks. Door glides, bringing. Fresh air clinging, as it rides to warmth.
Sun glows through windows once again. Missed, beloved, stay longer, come more often. Bring meringues if you would, please. Snow cover, winter rolls over again in it's bed. Toes cold, tongue tasting. Lips sweet. Mocha, how I love thee…
Let me count the ways. Deep, dark chocolate secrets wafting from a cup. Coffee rich, vibrant, depths inside, withholding tales. Birds gathered, seed flying, big trees hiding. Cat watching, tail twitching, inside's the place to be. Mocha overtaking fresh air, hands heavy with cup. Creamy, dreamy, scented love of sugar.
Sun lowering, mountains glowering. Fog returns from it's shopping trip. Cloaked Eagles cluck in annoyance. Perched like Christmas tree toppers up high. Day, giving back to dark soon. Pink meringue, gooey treasure, crispy crunch. Cat batting at sprinkles on floor. Caffeine rush, sugar high.
Virtuous reward for cold walk. Winter waves from the fields… Pink meringue disappears, bits and pieces, sun behind a cloud. Coffee drunk to the dregs. Meringue a memory. Cat hungry, birds fed. Sun down, fog in. My world, Wednesday… He of the fur, and I of the coffee, sit and dream of dinner.
The gardener in me being ever the optimist, I am celebrating the fact that we didn’t move up here to the “frozen north, or land of endless skies” until the beginning of December last year. Winter tarries long here, holding on with icy fingers, and giving in begrudgingly to spring. Whenever spring is coming… there that’s the realist in me. By moving here in the middle of winter, we shortened the time I have to live without green things growing, at least for the first year. Who knows what I am going to do next winter, make my own spring I guess.
Down on the coast there are crocus blooming, there are BUDS on the branches, GREEN BUDS! And yes that was all capital letters, it was required by the gardener in me. So who’s whining, not me, it’s just that gardener chick that lives inside of me.
Winter is tarrying, taking it’s sweet time, hanging out, flirting with us, giving us the occasional day of warmer above 0 temperatures, and then snatching it back with a vengeance. They are predicting –12 C this week. That’s pretty cold if you can’t do the conversion. In fact when we lived in White Rock, that would be “alarm bells” cold. Seriously cold, as in ice half way up the windows of the condo kind of cold, but we are made of sterner stuff now, and this house has better insulation.
In a recent trip to the “big city” of Kelowna, I noticed that the closer we got to the city, the less snow there was. It’s kind of hard to admit that my sister [she who knows houses] was right, and they do get less snow there then we do. In fact Kelowna was brown, while here it’s white. It’s white, snowy fluffy stuff everywhere, including my garden.
Which has the gardener chick in me wringing her hands, and worrying if spring will ever come. Well that’s fine, I have over 30,000 photos on my hard drive, and most of them are flowers, I can print them out and plaster the house with them should I so choose… so take that winter!
House hunting, and showing your home are very stressful times in peoples lives, I can vouch for that personally. After having our condo on the market for seven months, I can tell you, it’s hard to live “clean, and shiny, no dust bunnies hiding anywhere allowed.” Every time we had a showing I would clean for hours. Air out the place, organize any drawer that might be slightly messy, wash walls, get fresh flowers, all of those little tips to help sell in a saturated market. We lived on the West Coast and the competition was fierce, add to that another suite in our building up for sale. Within a 4 block radius of our place, I once counted over 19 suites for sale. It had to be beyond clean, shiny, and presentable to just hold it ‘s own.
Not all of the places we have seen are presentation ready. For instance the “Ice house,” granted we found out later that the owner was out of town for extended periods of time, so that might account for the freezing cold temperatures in the house. And I mean freezing, it was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, soaked through your socks, and made hair stand on end. Deep cold, perfect for a hot summer’s day, not good for the middle of winter.
A beautiful house, located on a winding road up the mountain, the property was just a little to remote for our tastes. High ceilings, lovely decor, a kitchen to die for, and I still shiver when I think of the place now. Somehow the cold stays in my mind, overriding any assets the house had. Along with the upended truck in a ditch we saw on the way up the hill, one driver taking the curve of the road a little to fast… not a good thing.
The search continues, we are starting to realize which areas appeal to us, and what style of house meets our needs. This way we are eliminating the “not quite right’s”, and zoning in on the “this works for us.” Stay tuned.
Cold hands, warm heart. Rush last steps to home. Winter chill settles on skin.
Rough branched pussy willows, blossoms so soft. Gathered from the ditch…precious winter gift. I'm the first. This time. Oh dear… Birds of a feather flutter startled. Once again, the look… Mental note, make noise first. Breath exhale, deep, winter yoga, no rush. Relax. Steel key rasps, knob squeaks. Door glides, bringing. Fresh air clinging, as it rides to warmth.
Sun glows through windows once again. Missed, beloved, stay longer, come more often. Bring meringues if you would, please. Snow cover, winter rolls over again in it's bed. Toes cold, tongue tasting. Lips sweet. Mocha, how I love thee…
Let me count the ways. Deep, dark chocolate secrets wafting from a cup. Coffee rich, vibrant, depths inside, withholding tales. Birds gathered, seed flying, big trees hiding. Cat watching, tail twitching, inside's the place to be. Mocha overtaking fresh air, hands heavy with cup. Creamy, dreamy, scented love of sugar.
Sun lowering, mountains glowering. Fog returns from it's shopping trip. Cloaked Eagles cluck in annoyance. Perched like Christmas tree toppers up high. Day, giving back to dark soon. Pink meringue, gooey treasure, crispy crunch. Cat batting at sprinkles on floor. Caffeine rush, sugar high.
Virtuous reward for cold walk. Winter waves from the fields… Pink meringue disappears, bits and pieces, sun behind a cloud. Coffee drunk to the dregs. Meringue a memory. Cat hungry, birds fed. Sun down, fog in. My world, Wednesday… He of the fur, and I of the coffee, sit and dream of dinner.
Thank you to all who have left such wonderful congratulations on the other day’s blog post regarding our new climate change, and need for long underwear due to our move to the Okanagan. Excited, rushed, looking forward to a new adventure, that’s us. Yes less then two weeks to go, [heart pounding but in a good way]. This is a new adventure, one that we have looked forward to for so long, can’t wait, we have all this packing to do, and the phone rings off the hook, so many arrangements being made. The Boo just sleeps through it all, nothing comes between him, and his nap time. I have gone out and purchased my snow boots, and my long underwear. Made of spun rayon, from bamboo, I can’t wait to give those babies a test drive. I don’t have a winter jacket, down here on the West Coast we don’t need heavy jackets for more then a week every other year or so. A good waterproof, all weather jacket, with a giant hood is much more practical in our rainy climate. You just throw on another fleecy, and maybe double up the yoga pants. [Take that Mr. Black’s, worst dressed list]. It’s snowing up in the Okanagan, cold baby cold! If you are wondering just how cold, take a look at the blog from my soon to be almost a neighbour, Carolynn from A Glowing Ember. She recently moved up to the Okanagan, and knows first hand how cold it is compared to here already. It’s going to be some climate change for us. All of my plants have been moved to a friends house, some we will pick up in the spring, and transplant them to their new yard… oh exciting, a garden, a house. And best of all, we are being transplanted, I can’t wait to start putting down roots.
