Saturday, November 20, 2010

Stealth Snow

It wasn't unexpected, mind you. All week the weatherfolk have been warning that a winter snow was heading our way, but we saw no signs of it. I actually went for a jog late yesterday afternoon wearing a vest and a tee shirt. Last night, before I went to bed, I went outside to gaze at a clear sky full of stars. A few clouds lay low on the horizon but there was not a hint of preciptation. Awoke this morning to a mostly blue sky and a mostly white landscape. The snow elves came in the middle of the night and laid down an inch or two. It's early this year. It's unusual for us to have measurable snow before the leaves have fallen. As the snow melted this morning, it revealed the colors of autumn instead of the black branches of winter.

I'm trying to convince myself to suit up and get out in it, but truth be told, I'm not a winter sports kind of gal. I'm more of a sit by the fire with a cup of cocoa and a good book kind of gal. I have a new reading chair next to the new woodstove, there are a couple of unread books on the side table, the kettle's hot and the house is ultra-cozy. It will be hard to summon the ambition to leave all this and go hiking in the wet and cold, but I'll manage to get out of the house sometime today.

The "new" reading chair is actually Aunt Mag's old chair. I think it dates to the 30s or 40s. Aunt Mag was my great aunt and I never knew her. She was my mother's mother's sister and my mother adored her. Mag had "the fever" as a young child and it affected her brain; she never progressed intellectually after that point. I think she was one of the few adults who ever took time to play with my mother when she was a child. The adults in my mother's life were engaged in a daily struggle for survival and didn't have much time for play. Even if they did, there was a much clearer line between adult and child back then and playing with children was not considered suitable behavior. Expectations for Mag were different. No-one thought twice about her pulling out her box of junk jewelry (her "bobs") and playing dress up with the little girls. Despite her disability, she was also expected to be able to sew and cook and keep house. I have a quilt that she pieced by hand in the 'drunken path' pattern, tiny squares in curving lines blocked on white muslin that probably came from flour sacks. She had mad skills, no doubt. Her housewifery was far superior to mine.

I'm not sure how or when mom got the chair, but she had it for many years. It's a sweet little upholstered rocker, kind of blocky, vaguely colonial,the only heirloom furniture in our family. Greg took it home after mom died, but he and his wife are remodeling and no longer have room for it, so I paid to have it shipped across the country. Any antique dealer would tell me that it's not "worth" what I paid for the shipping, but to me, it's priceless. It's certainly well-traveled.

Darkness is gathering outside. I better head out before it snows again. At least this time, I see it coming.

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