Winter in my town

Having lived the vast majority of my life in an extremely suburbanized area, moving to the town I live in now was a bit daunting.  The space, first of all, though desired, was a cause for concern - too big? Too dark?  How can it be maintained? From .19 acres to 2.3 was a leap of faith, and more than one friend told me I was making a "big mistake".  Now having lived here for four years I can say that not only was 2.3 acres a good idea, I could really have used more.  The sheer beauty of this place is beyond description, as today, following the first snowstorm of 2010 - 2011, I looked out the window and saw what I've never seen before - pink and blue shadows on the snow - the snow in my backyard.  Now I'm sure this exists where I used to live, but the sheer density of the population and the crowding of the homes prevents its being seen, and I'm here to tell you - it's stunning.  Something about the angle of the sun on the expanse of snow causes that trick of light, for I'm absolutely sure there is no pink snow out there, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  As quickly as it came, it left, as the sun shifted downward and the snow resumed its natural white, and now is fading to the purple shadows before dark. Quite the spectacle.  I look forward to many more snowy days to come.

In tribute - a thank you.

One of the facets of my job is occasionally going about the county taking care of people in other areas.  Once every six weeks I work a weekend, and have a fixed assignment about 20 miles away from my office.  The first time I made the drive, I passed one of those roadside steel marker posts planted in the front lawn of a not-so-old house, and it caught my attention because, clearly, no ancient history could have taken place on a modern, suburban front lawn. On the second time I passed it I slowed, but owning to the traffic could only note a name - a woman's name - and something about the Guinness Book of World Records.Third time - a mention of Cub Scouts.  Finally in sheer frustration I made sure I could pull over to read the entire sign, and noted that it commemorated a Mrs. Marion Rohner who had set the record for the longest serving den mother - 48 years. What?  YEARS?  Silent admiration and astonishment followed.  I have two sons, and served as den mother for a bit - 48 weeks, maybe 48 months, but nowhere near, not even worth counting, next to 48 years.  She served from 1953 to 2001, taking care of generations of Cub Scouts, starting with her own son.  Thinking I would look this up in detail, I next went online to the Guinness site, only to discover her achievement was nowhere to be found, not even her name.  Perplexed, I e-mailed them and received a polite reply that due to the size of the tome and the number of records it was impossible to keep all of them in current printing, whether they had been surpassed or not.  Are you kidding?  You dropped the woman who ran a Cub Scout Den for 48 years in favor of some idiot who eats the most  hot dogs or burps the loudest?  Surely the book of world records ain't what it used to be - a listing of truly remarkable, laudable achievements.   So, Marion, this is for you - thank you - for  the 48 years, for the countless lives you touched and made better, for putting up with I-can't-image-how-many rambunctious little boys (and their parents), truly, you deserve more than a metal sign post on your front lawn - you deserve to be remembered - and I promise you, you will be.  

The Gods conspire against me...

I put the vegetable garden "to bed" for the winter today.  All the plants are out, but I still have to rake out the small debris, and I am actually going to plant a cover crop this time in an effort to complete the cycle of putting nutrients back into the soil that so richly rewarded us this year, despite the endlessly blazing hot summer and lack of rain.   It took several hours, and I note that I am much slower, and tire more easily than (I remember) in times past.  As I work I think, well, it's a good thing I gave over two of the beds to berries.  As perennial shrubs, they require less intensive effort, and perhaps I should consider making more of the beds berries, or asparagus or some such.  Maybe all but one? Two?  It seems prudent.  Finally exhausted, I'm done, surveying the bags of plant and weeds, knowing I need my husband to come with the cart to pick it all up because it's way too heavy to lug up the distance to the curb. In fact, I can't carry the trug full of ripe/unripe tomatoes peppers, etc. that consist of the end of season bounty.  Yep, scaling down is the way to go.  Absolutely.
The mail comes, and I trudge up to the mailbox, take it into the house, and discover that I have unconsciously stuffed the labels from the tomato plants in my pockets (so I don't forget which ones they were for next year), and in the pile of mail - a gardening catalog, and in it the seductive temptation of gardens yet to come....