Oh, Autumn, How Could You?

Mother Nature, I thought we were pals. But first Irene's brackish floods turned the leaves from green to brown with no inbetween, and now this, the untimely arrival of sn...no, I won't say its name. I will only say where, oh where, are the crunchy piles of rainbow-colored leaves and the smell of woodsmoke in dry, crisp air? Release my rosebuds from these individual miracles of crystallization instantly, I insist! Really. Am putting my foot down. And then, wiping it carefully before coming back inside, because it is snowing out there. (Oops!)

Dig Out Your Snow Boots...

...then proceed to dig out everything else, because that right there is Fort Fiona, and the little kitter inside needs water and food and, after last night's howling winds, probably a lot of reassurance.

I will need boots. And perhaps, a plow.

I don't think there's a newspaper on that driveway, anyway, so let's not even consider shoveling that.

Almost there, honey. It'll just be another, um, half-hour or so.


I asked if she'd be going out today; she couldn't shake her head "no" fast enough. Okay, hon, I'll crack the ice on your water dish and warm up some Fancy Feast...you go on back to sleep...

How's My Hair?

The music of chainsaws fills the air every day now, and will for some time to come.
It was a week ago already, that mighty wind on Saturday. It took down half a dozen 30- to 40-foot evergreens around the block, but spared us any harm. A gigantic branch from a neighbor's tree broke off and fell onto our garage roof, but remained supported by a lower limb, so the roof was undamaged. Our good ol' brother-in-law Newman came over with a power tool; he and Ken climbed onto the garage roof, and I stayed inside and kept them from falling off by concentrating very, very hard. I did not take pictures of that. We did lose a piece of downspout,(I think) and/or a length of leader pipe from the gutters. Something unexciting like that.
Elsewhere, just across the street and down the block, there was much more damage:







I think contractors and landscapers will have a very good season this year.

Winter Arrives With A "Whumpf!"

There'll be no more basking in unseasonable warmth; Gaia decided to throw on a thick ermine shawl to celebrate the winter solstice, which occurs tomorrow at 12:47 p.m. EST. We got about six or seven inches of snow.
Kenny immediately set to work on the first order of business: digging his way to Fiona and refreshing her frozen water dish. Is he the best or what?

March in a Minute

In like a lion, indeed. We got whomped on Monday with a foot of snow, but not enough to close the library and let us stay home baking. Le sigh. We were working the night shift, giving us plenty of time in the morning to shovel (okay, Kenny did all the shoveling) and I had time to shake off the trees.
Then, out like a lamb, as that snow will all be a memory by tomorrow, it seems. The mercury's at 56 now and the sun is shining on the salty-dirt-encrusted cars, the wet leftover autumn leaves, the damp, brown and broken seedheads, grass stalks and...hey! can I get a little more of that clean, pretty snow? This all looks like nothin' but yardwork to me! Wait a minute, there's gotta be a little spring somewhere...Aha!
Here we go, the first crocus of the year, complete with a little piece of the bark mulch it pushed through:
And it wasn't alone: The tulips are pushing through: And from underneath the snowvalanche the mantis egg case emerged, bowed but unbroken and still firmly attached to the juniper. Also on view, this psychedelic sedum, which turned crazy colors last November and stayed that way all winter: Of course, this is only a false start; spring isn't official for two weeks, and even then, we know better than to put away the shovels before the end of April. Is there a name for this kind of respite, which, at the other end of the year, would be an Indian-summer day?

Upstate Downer

The final Hall of Fame Game was being played in Doubleday Field on June 16th and it was sold out; we didn't even know about it before coming up here, but there we were in town, and tickets on the street were not exorbitantly priced. The nice guy who sold us two for an oddly nominal fee ("Ten bucks? For both?") had probably heard the weather report...or looked at the sky. We were optimistic, though; hadn't the sun held sway for the parade? So what was a little rain now? It's just a drizzle. Ignore all those people who are leaving. They're still letting us in, right? They'll get in a couple of innings and we'll get to see a little baseball...but it was not to be. Just before we entered the stands there was an announcement urging those not in the covered grandstands to "seek shelter immediately." Ten or fifteen minutes later, there was hail on top of the now-driving rain. Cooperstown felt a little like Mudville a couple hours later when the last Hall of Fame Game ever, scheduled for 2 p.m., was finally called on account of this:

We were under that tree on the left at first, then Ken spotted a place under this bank portico. Thanks Ken!
The Cubs and the Padres left without playing, and suddenly, everyone who was at last year's game tried to remember a little harder what it was like.
Four hours later, it was clear and calm, and we had dinner at the Lake Front restaurant.

Too Darn Hot

The heat is making people act crazy, you know that? Especially on the roads. I was driving east on Sunrise Highway between Valley Stream and Merrick this evening at seven p.m., and you know what people were doing? ...are you ready for this, are you sitting down?..... Everyone was driving the speed limit. It was remarkable. Everyone slowed down, but smooth like honey. We made all the lights, all of us. Way to go, people. And here was the most laid-back car of them all, this cute ol' yeller; I love the serif font of the Volkswagen logo.

Ice Pops

SnowCones For Everyone!

...courtesy of Mother Nature. We've got a good seven inches but it's wet and heavy and the air outside is warm, so this shouldn't last long. And don't worry, the library is open!