First snow of 2024: Recollections of days gone

The weather forecast was, as usual, all about *could*. We could get snow. We could get rain. We could get a mix. I didn't doubt we were going to have precipitation because Loki the Cat took up residence on the corner of the bed and would not be roused even for a hit of his cat crack (Temptations Mix-up cat treats). 

It's actually snowing - the first snow of 2024. Part of me wants to bundle up and go outside with the dog, and another part of me wants to go downstairs to the den and read beside the woodstove. Since I'm blogging, it's a good guess I'm doing neither.  

At this hour, the forecast stands at 4-8 inches. That's quite a spread. They always leave themselves room to be wrong. I'm not too worried about it. I have a well-stocked pantry and more than enough firewood to make it through a day or two. The snow-pusher is mounted on the John Deere 1023 but I doubt I'll need to use it. The Colorado is 4x4, and eight inches of snow won't be a problem for it if some emergency happens and I have to go out. 

Back in the days when my mother was herself, snow was the impetus for phone calls. As soon as one of us spotted snow, we called and when the other answered, we did a little sing-song of "it's snowing, it's snowing I saw it fiiirrst!". It was something we did, without fail, and Alzheimer's took that from us. 

They say with Alzheimer's the person is still inside there, somewhere. I don't see that with my mother. Who she was is gone, and who she is now is a stranger. 

The snow is lovely as it falls to ground. Even the sad memories can't detract from its beauty. It tears at my heart to remember how much Mom loved to see it snow. She won't even see it from her room in the nursing home. 

So I take a deep breath and let go of what I can't change. And I watch the snow fall and I remember for both of us. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, snow, Alzheimer's Disease, mother, memories, cats, games, rural living, country lifestyle, a writer's life, loss of parent

It's been a day

I slept in this morning, not rising and shining at all. It's a rare occurrence so I can't beat myself up over it. Our recent weather has thawed the ground, so even though our temps are in the 50F range, doing anything outside would be a proposition in mud. We'll pass. Needing to find another productive activity for the day, I choose to make a run to Sam's Club. 

It's a good thing the Lord of the Manor never questions how much money I spend on these "runs." I brought home Honey Buns and Cheetos for him as a distraction. He doesn't ask and I don't offer. 

The thing I like about a club warehouse is being able to get, for example, a carton of tissues at a time. Tissues never go bad and during the winter months, it's handy to have a stash in the laundry room. Is paying $1.41 a box a good deal? In my neck of the woods, it is. And that's the thing. You have to pay attention to individual prices. 

Some things, like Tide detergent, are not a bargain at Sam's. I buy it there anyway because it's so convenient to get the big jugs of the stuff. It doesn't cost more, but it doesn't cost less. 

So I'm home, $225 poorer, but well stocked on a few items. And what did Himself have to say about all the *stuff* we carried in from the trunk of my car? 

"At least we won't have to eat the cat."

#Men

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, country lifestyle, rural living, shopping, bargains, cats, men, a writer's life

Frosty patterns

Winter is not anathema to me. I've no desire to flee the season and head south. I'll grant you that living in the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States our winters are not as severe as more northern climes, but these are the only winters I've ever known. Or care to know. 

Maybe being in tune with the land makes the difference. When I go outside, my shoes do not walk on concrete and asphalt. Instead, my steps are made on the earth itself. I see the dull grass and bare trees and know they are merely sleeping, resting in preparation for the magic to happen come spring. 

Winter is full of patterns if you know where to look. Yesterday morning, the front porch was covered in a thin layer of frost. It lay in a sparkling design only ice and sun could create. 

I stood at the door, coffee cup in hand, and watched as the warming day erased the handiwork of night. Then it occurred to me to take a picture. I'm sorry I couldn't capture the sparkle, though. A few moments later, little cat paws marred the pattern as Loki decided ten minutes was enough time in the great outdoors. 

Such a beautiful thing to see, frost sparkling on the porch. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor