swim beyond the imagery

Comes June

June, the first of the 3 months considered summer in the north of east.

I'm now fully 24 days post surgery. I've been back to work since 19 May. The cast and stents were taken off and out 17 days ago. And today is the first day I've felt close to normal.

I'm uncertain why, but my spatial sense was thrown off by surgery, by medication, by anaesthesia.  Perhaps it was the saline solution that had to be regularly squirted up each nostril until it swished and drained out either the other or out my mouth. Lovely. ;-)

I finally put an end to that yesterday, upon leaving work (where I would ritually do this in the restroom, several times each workday.) And today... much better.

Oh, it is still tender to much of a touch, but things are looking up. The results are great, and the worst is over. Weather permitting, I'll be able to tackle the lawn tomorrow, giving it a weekly buzz cut. Monday I'll resume walking on my lunch hour. And I'm well into the new diet, it has become routine.

The Optimism of Spring

In my first decade of life, spring wasn't something you contemplated, it was something you experienced.

There was no perspective, nothing with which to compare historically. It was as it was for those years. Winter snows melted, we pulled off our winter armour, we pulled off heavy windows, and we breathed in the warming air.

We were out of doors creatures of all seasons then - we didn't hibernate in our homes unless not understanding parents left us no choice. Still, a winter season was like a year to an adult - it went on and on and on, while summer flew by with the rapidity of the fastest of our bicycles rolling down our steepest hill.

Now the seasons move more quickly, but the optimism of spring remains a constant. At a time of year where the average high temperature is 60°, we've been running 65-80° for the better part of a week. And over the next two days we push the higher limits of that range.

This is when the ice of our ponds and lakes surrenders to the strength of the sun and warming air, when thick overcoats are tucked away and lighter fare - or no jacket at all - graces our bodies. For those of us born bereft of gaydar and thus more visually dependent, it is a time to take a deep breath and enjoy what our sensory limitations have wrought. :)

This is an interesting year, because the optimism of spring is coupled to the advent of reiki in my life, so it is kind of kewl to contemplate the juxtaposition of the two. I've been wrestling over applying for, then withdrawing my application, for a position that is my dream job. It is the right way to go, but the flip side is it is a sad way to go as well. Ah, but I turn towards the light, ponder the logic, and trust in where I've placed my life.

So come on flowers, come on grass... um... lawn grass... come on lakes, come on my favourite of all birds - our loons - sweep me away (before the mosquitoes find me.)

Snow removal

March is upon us, quickly 2 days in. Spring lies but 18 days into our future, and 15 days from now brings equal day and equal night. And the strength of sun is now equal to around 10 October in the fall.

Nice astronomical observations, but also unfortunately probably significant.

Since 1 December, we have received about 111 inches of snow. We've had several heavy rainstorms add to the water content of our snow. One of the snow banks along our drive is almost 5 feet high, and equally as wide. Much of this is compressed into ice.

The Climate Prediction Center estimates we will have above average precipitation over the next 10 day period. Currently the monthly predictor gives equal chance to above or below precipitation and temperature. One chart lists the overall east coast being warmer than normal. Chances are, some of that warmth gets here.

Add 2 or 3 heavy rainstorms to continual warmer temperatures, and this snow is going to go quickly. It is going to cascade down mountain sides, seep from our lawns, and all congregate in our rivers. The two main rivers of this state are the Connecticut and the Merrimack.

In 1936, the Merrimack, fueled by such rapidly melting runoff and combined rainfall, had a flow equal to 67% of the normal Mississippi flow in St. Louis, an astounding amount of water for a much smaller river. Bridge after bridge was pulverised.

Such flooding today would cause untold millions of dollars of damage. We now have dams in place where they did not in 1936, but once before those dams have been filled to capacity. At that point we became vulnerable to more storminess, and fortunately it held off.

Here's hoping our March weather will be gentle to the northeast.

Ride the wave

Are they listening to Flight of the Valkyries? Do they have scarves meticulously draped around their neck, one end strategically hanging off centre? Or, instead of Snoopy & Red Baron fantasy, they are simply talking on cell phones?

Why is it that my hand and arm mechanisations and wild gesturing gyrations went ignored? Why is it I, stepping back a significant distance, still found myself covered from the top of my flower decorated hat to the tips of my boots, in slushy, cold, water?

Overnight, 8 inches of snow befell the area. By the time I rose, snow had transformed into rain. And by the time I had the snow thrower out to perform its wintry duty, the twin street storm drains were clogged with suctioned slush. The end result was building water, exceeding a foot to the roadside, six inches mid-road.

They came, driving as if the road were dry. They came and speed remained unchanged, apparently oblivious to the looming puddle that carries hidden dangers - are they aware such water can stall an engine and leave their brakes dangerously unresponsive?

I tried to get the thrower to the drain, the water was too deep. As vehicles approached, knowing the general distance vehicles were throwing water, I'd back up in the drive. Well, one brilliant road warrior either saw me not, or thought he would soak that crazy woman in the burgundy and shimmery gold hat - with aforementioned flower. His aim was impeccable, and it was a direct hit. I responded formidably, pulling out the strongest weapon in my arsenal - I flipped him off. I'm a warrior in my own right. *cough*

After wiggling and jiggling the thrower up and down the drive, I retired inside, peeled off my soaked-through clothing, and sat for a moment here stark naked, writing a post or two. Once of sufficiently dry skin, rest assured new and dryer clothing covered the potential horrors.

So this post is for you, ye idiots who know not to slow down when it is obvious a road is water covered. Those gestures as you approached were in desperation, hoping we would immediately bond with visual human communication. One out of five of you got the message. The rest of you need remedial driving classes.

Cabin fever

Of the seasonal fevers, spring fever is much preferable to cabin fever. Yet in the semi dark days of winter, it is cabin fever which rules over the human spirit - at least in northern, more snowbound climes.

Over the past week, it has snowed, sleet, or rained about every day. I've lost count of how many times the drive required clearing. Asphalt, visible the entirety of winter, is now covered under a sheath of ice. The property surrounding the home has 30 inches of water saturated snow upon it. With the first snows of December, little real melting has transpired. Yet with several episodes of heavy rain, the water content of the snow pack has to be very high.

If a quick onset, warm and wet March rolls at us, flooding could be a story in this area. I'd guess Georgia would love some of what we have stored on our lawns, fields, and forest.

Now comes the wind and the cold, at least for a couple of days. Yet hope lies not so distantly ahead. We are in the second half of winter. Daylight is beginning to stretch out, the average daily high temperature is on a slow march northward.

In the here and now though, cabin fever lurks. I'd love to be floating in warm water, love to be lurking near warm water, sipping margaritas. This will have to be the province of my imagination. I'll create the imagery within, and daydream I've somehow placed myself in a more soothing and subtle setting.

Spring... lies 39 days out. Surely we can make it here without running straight (gasp!) to Florida?

Put me in traction

Is this a case of the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak?

For those of you believing you are to witness a first - nelle chatting it up on some love interest playing through my head - get a life, you should know better. I'm talking about having to wrestle the snow thrower up and down the drive *yet again.*

It isn't even winter yet. We won't be there until somewhere around Friday. Yet we have like 20 plus inches of snow sitting in the yard, courtesy of the last two weeks of late fall.

Today brought about ten inches of the fool stuff, skiers gold. Send it all to the mountains, and lets import Hawaiian weather here.

My knees hurt - yes, both of them. My back was thrown out plugging in the infernal machine in order to start it. I have snow in my socks. And worst of all, there is no fireplace to soothe my body and soul.

What I'm left with is a Sam Adams Winter Lager, which does a good job but my knees still hurt.

Now perhaps that is where a love interest should come in, massage my knees, make me smile.

Right. 

We surrender

I'm about to brave the wintry New England winter, pulling on my lavender and purple Columbia overcoat, knitted hat, and black gloves, all this for the soul purpose of removing what Mother Nature has sent us for Christmas.

While there are businesses that thrive on snowy weather, this particular storm sent its deposit squarely on the part of the snow where there is little alpine skiing done, though cross country is popular. This is something like our third measurable snowfall, but wait! If you send before midnight tonight, you get more on Sunday! Send what? Don't ask.

Alas, that is the story being sold by weather seers - a nor'easter is in the pre-planning stages in earthly atmospherics in the etherealsphere.  Unfortunately the planners are quite skilled, and a storm not yet in existence is expected to hammer us with high winds and heavy snow. Those of you who love snow football, as well as the New York Jets, will love this storm. The Jets have reason to be thrilled... with a snow covered field, the pending 70-7 rout the Patriots had planned will be reduced to something rather normal.

Skiers will flock to the slopes, ski areas will have a booming holiday season, our UI claims will be down, and everyone will be happy - except those of us who have to remove the stuff from our drives.

Is it spring yet?

Cold

There are various types of cold. There are varying degrees of cold. There are cold spells, sickness colds, cold waves, cold fronts, cold beers, cold starts, cold shots, cold associated with aloof, cold cases, and some are said to have cold hearts.

What I'm feeling at the moment is bone chilling cold. Oh, it isn't cold in here, the temperature is somewhere around 70F. Yet there are times when cold just seems to settle through clothing, through skin, and into bones, where the air feel is not in sync with what exists in actuality.

My right eye was bothering me, so I decided to lie down for a short while. Busily contemplating some weird scenario unfolding before me, there was this sudden realisation that scenario was not fact, but dream. Thus I returned to the land of the wakened. And ever since I've been freezing.

Off the chair came a blanket that is probably older than I am; it is remembered from childhood. It is kept there for such moments, the one missing element being a fireplace and fire, but blankets and reading seem to go together in winter like peanut butter and chocolate. And I rarely think to grab it.

Not tonight. Now... it is draped over my shoulders, covering all of my back, some under my derrière, covering my arms to just above the wrist, and only open to the extent necessary for me to commit this to blog.

How about my legs? Yup. Cold. But a cocoonish blanket this is not, so we take what we can and consider that sufficient. At least now the rest of me is happy.

Curious thing, is winter. Outside it is a not so balmy 16F, but I've experienced far worse. Heat absent moisture is what really does us in, because dry heat is colder feeling than moist heat. We need a humidifier, and maybe that should go on my list of things to pursue over the next few weeks.

As we set on the eve of the first snowstorm of the winter season, I'm left with the thought of having to run out to file the thrower gas tank, filling the thrower, and blowing snow into the wind to spit back in my face.

Maybe another blanket might be a good thing to ponder.

Scraping by

It has become recent routine: about ten minutes before I leave for work, I run out to my car, start it and let it run.

With the onset of cold mornings, ice blankets my car windows, requiring they either be scraped clean, or be melted clean. I prefer the melt method of ice removal. And when ice/snow removal begins to be necessary, I first have to break down and by a decent scraper. My last one was lost to a car dealer.

Gas mileage has been impacted by the warm up routine, with a tank of gas going about 40 miles less. Summer is wonderful in so many ways, sigh.

When ice comes, short days are standing right alongside. Headlights are on upon leaving work; a half hour out and night time is fully upon us. There is something soothing about driving home in the dark, even as I welcome and anticipate the return of longer days. Where I worry is with critters that can be active and hard to see, in a region where deer and moose are plentiful.

But this post is a lament on frozen windows. A couple of years ago I made the grave mistake of leaving after simply washing away the ice with washer fluid. Heading headlong into a sun in my field of vision while the residual liquid rapidly froze, I had to pull to the side of the road - when I could not see the road. That scared me silly. No more... warm car, clean windows.

Tired and tires

Saturday found me in prowling the wilds of Manchester in search of a new driver's side tire. No matter I knew exactly where to go, and that I had no intention of going to any other tire vendor... I was still a woman on a mission. Towanda!

The car in question, the only car I have, namely the Forenza, now has 60,000 miles on it; all the other original tires have been replaced. Now it is time for the last to say goodbye.

When wandering around the side of my car a couple of weekends or so ago, I noticed a 'wee bit' ('wee bit' is defined as a patch about six inches long and 3 wide) of white showing on the tire. ruh roh. Since I drive more than 500 miles a week, not acting soon is asking for trouble.

The last time I purchased a tire, some 4 months ago, it cost me $77. Same place, 4 months later? $117.00 Ah yes, inflation is under control in this country.

Anyway, the tire had to be obtained from another store, and it is being expeditiously here. It was supposed to be at the store this morning; nope... tomorrow? If so, I'll leave work at noon and go have it thrown on.

Which leads me to tired... I mess with my schedule on weekends, staying up later, getting up later. My body is getting too damn old for that sort of adjustment, and it was t-o-u-g-h getting out of that rather lumpy but cozy bed this morning. When it gets cold, beds are become even more endearing.

I'm going to digress... cold beds at camp are one of my favourite childhood memories. Arriving at the camp after dark, my dad would get a fire going in the pot bellied stove, whilst my sis and I quickly nestled into the blankets of the bunk beds. Geesh, with such an environment today, it would take an Act of Congress or a snake to wake me up.

There is something tiring about the colder months, if you consider 60F (today's temp) to be cold. The sun sets markedly earlier, rises later, and our snooze clocks are set to ultraviolet detection, or so it seems. Why can't tire shopping be a summer sport? I've a cold bed to curl up in.