Once in a Blue Moon -- Day 2 -- Summer!

The prompt: We are about to enter into a gentler season i.e. Autumn/Fall if you’re in the Northern Hemisphere, Spring if you’re in the Southern Hemisphere. For me, these seasons often feel like a relief after the intensity of Summer and Winter. How do you intend to transition into the new season?

Oh, I am so NOT a summer person, especially as an adult. Even as a kid, I hated being hot and sweaty and sticky and dirty, and greatly preferred finding a cool, shady space where I could read for hours undisturbed. Not for me the summer sports or the cool blue of the public pool that was an easy bike ride from my house.

There was a fragrant tree that bloomed on the side of our house and aided by huge lilac bushes, the side yard facing our neighbor's blank-walled garage was my little private haven. I put blankets down to create a soft bed, took two or three books of the bike-basket-full I'd borrow from the bookmobile that stopped every other week in a park near out house, and read for hours, the dappled shade flickering on the pages, and what breeze there might have been in the hot, humid Missouri summers fluffing my hair.

When I was a little older and able to ride the city bus by myself, I'd venture to the main library, a huge old Carnegie building, and spend the day browsing in the cool company of quiet librarians and slightly musty odor of old books. I read my way through the entire collection of fairy and folk tales one summer -- every volume of "Under the **** Umbrella" books, Grimm and Anderson, and a myriad of folk tales and mythology.

My brother spent all day every day outside, playing with his friends by the creek (forbidden but done anyway), playing team sports, riding bikes, getting dirty and stinky and happy as a pig in mud.

I don't like sweating. I hate humidity. I am not an athlete. I'm not fond of bugs and things that bite. I like the occasional picnic, but civilized, with chilled lemonade, chocolate cake, lovely chicken sandwiches, cherries, and perhaps some pickles. On a tablecloth and a clean picnic bench, please.

Where I live now gets very hot in the summer; the one plus being that the humidity is often in the single digits. I get very tired of endless sun, crispy grass (because California's green season is in the winter and spring), tired dark blue-green oak leaves that literally shrivel on the tree towards the end of summer and fall off.. As summer comes to a close, the nights cool down more, usually enough to open the windows and turn on the window fan to freshen and cool the stale house air, but in the height of summer, it can still be 90 degrees at midnight. ''

This year I intend to transition by leaving town and going to cooler climates! I am hoping that by the time we get back home towards the end of September, the days will be comfortably warm and the nights even slightly chilly. Typically it will still be weeks before jeans and sweaters and rain gear come out well into October, but at least the end is in sight.

I have a winter heart. I have always known this, born as I was in November in cold, wintry Minnesota, always preferring the snuggly wools and fleeces and flannels, the wood stove fires, the thick, warming soups and stews, mugs of strong hot coffee in the morning and fragrant steaming tea in the afternoon and evening. My passions run deep and fiery but are not always visible at the surface, and I can freeze ice with a look if so motivated. I have a winter heart.

I welcome the annual transition from naked, put-it-all-out-there summer to the crisp and bounteous days of autumn, and relish the inward reflection and renewal of our California winters.  Bring it on.

Rain on the way -- we hope!

Our weather is sharply colder tonight and a north wind is sending the outdoor kitties into corners to shelter from the wind. Nevermind that they have houses that are packed with blankets, foam rubber padding, purrpads, and doors that help keep the wind out. They'll go in, just not when I'm looking.

But we have for the first time in a couple of months the promise of rain for this week. Our favorite Old Forecaster says that our area will have 1-2 inches of the stuff by this time next week, and more in the surrounding area. Since our grass is once again brown and crispy, after a brief greening-up following early winter rains in October-November, that will be most welcome. Most necessary, if we're to escape serious fire threat this summer.

I'm good with this. There is little I love more than snuggling down with an afghan in front of our warm woodstove, kitties curled deep on their tuffets (really RustiesGranny pet beds, which they LOVE, thankyouverymuch Tamina!), a cup of hot tea and something good on television -- and Sunday night is a big one, with Shameless, House of Lies, Californication, Desperate Housewives, Once Upon a Time, and I forget what else. Not that we watch all of that in one evening. It's hard to remember not having a DVR. We seldom watch anything live anymore because it is so easy to record and watch at our convenience.

Our day has been so good: brunch with friends at our favorite Mexican restaurant and then we went to see "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" which was quite good even though we haven't yet read the books. Tonight it's hot beef stew for dinner and a quiet evening enjoying shows. Tomorrow we're back to work and chores.

One of the posts I've been thinking through is about writing, prompted by a question asked at yesterday's Writers Forum conference: Why do you write? What a provocative thought, actually -- and I'll write about that sometime this week.

Another question from the same event asked about the kind of books I like to read and also authors I admire. That, too, deserves more thought, and I'll share with you. Generally, our leaders told us, writers read what they want to write. And I'm not sure that I do. Hm.

Powerless over others' actions

A recurring theme in these now years of blog posts has been letting go of issues that are not mine to deal with: acknowledging that we are all powerless over people, places, and things, and then letting them go, putting the responsibility where it belongs -- which is not on ME.

I keep working on doing that. And I keep working on not worrying about the outcome of others' actions, and to not feel (or act on) the great need to step in front of that speeding train to keep them safe.

Some days I am more successful than others.

According to one astrology site, a change is coming this week. Hard as change can be, it needs to happen for me.

Not that I want drastic, awful, horrible death-in-the-family change, please, oh please not. Just a shift towards the positive, towards good growth and constructive actions.

And more letting go of things and situations that I am not responsible for, that I cannot cure, that I cannot control. Trying to manage my own thoughts and actions and life is enough: I am not responsible for the outcome of others' choices.

***************

Spring is springing. Our harbinger tree began leafing out this last weekend (right on time) which means that the other trees will soon bud into green life. We've had daffodils springing up here and there for a couple of weeks now, and many flowering trees (some of which lost lots of blossoms in the cold and wind we've had recently) but the little tree that unfurls its greenness first has always been our true indicator of spring.

While I do enjoy the lovely mild temperatures and the pretty green grasses that make this area so beautiful in the spring, I can't help thinking about the heat that I know will follow all too soon, and I confess that I prefer the woodstove, the rain, and the green grasses -- even the weeds -- to the crispy brown fields and searing 110-degree days that are always a part of our summer.

Our weeds are definitely thriving too -- we have not yet done the spring RoundUp blitz that beats them back from the house and along the driveway, and need to do so. If I can just go out for 10 minutes each day and pull weeds, it'll help: we're now past the stage where they are little sprouts that would hardly be seen once hit by the weed killer, and into full bushy mode, where they'd lay in dead heaps on the ground and REALLY look crappy.

Rhubarb is coming up in the (also weedy) garden but I'm not ready to think about getting into the garden just yet, nor about the plants in the pots close to the house. Later.

****************

I'm not doing well on my intention to write a book so far; some better on taking care of myself. I'm loving my weekly yoga class and can feel strength building in legs and core -- I only wish we had it twice weekly but am grateful for even this. Loving the monthly massages that so slow me down and release the bad kinks.

It takes time to break bad habits too, and I'm working on that -- most especially the one about letting things go. I'm grateful for time and security to do that. It will come, just as those hot days of summer will come. Meanwhile, we take things one day at a time -- doing all we can, where we are, with what we've got.

Catching up -- bits of thought for 2011

While I've composed bits and pieces of blog posts in my head this past month, they haven't made it to actual type and format. I'm sorry...but also if you've missed me, I'm glad. I'll try to do better.

I've really missed Reverb10, which kept me writing nearly daily in December, introspectively examining the past year and figuring out what was impactful. I know there are prompts out there, but it's not the same thing.

I began a post about taking care of myself and my determination this year to do just that, but it didn't get far. That said, I AM doing more for my own good this year: a weekly yoga class that uses muscles I didn't remember I had, walking at least 10 minutes a day, monthly massages that rejuvenate my body and my spirit from a marvelous masseuse who also uses energy work to enhance her magic fingers, and better permission to read during the day if I want -- something I haven't allowed myself to do much of in some time. I guess it's because I think it's unproductive -- and yet I'll read on the computer for several hours, blogs, websites, etc. Go figure.

Anyway, I'm working on all of it, mostly successfully.

I've spent some time petting kitties too, especially since a friend recently lost her dearly loved 11-year-old cat, and his sibling kitty just three months ago too. I was so sad for her loss, knowing full well how devastating the death of a much-loved animal can be -- dare I say even more, sometimes, than the death of a human? I think it's because with animals we just are who we are and they love us anyway, warts and all. Animals sense a troubled spirit and try to soothe it; they give back so much acceptance and energy and patience with us despite our moods and our troubles. They are with us daily, especially if we're at home much of the time. I appreciate our little boys and am always happy to hold them and pet them when they spring into my lap, even when I don't always appreciate a furry tail in front of my computer monitor.

And I've been following the giant storm that's icing its way across the Midwest today -- deadly ice in Missouri and Indiana -- both states in which I've lived -- and other cities too. I still have relatives and friends there and have been concerned for them. So far, they assure me, they're fine.

We have such spring-like weather right now, with highs in the 60s and approaching 70, and sunshine. Last week we had some bad fog in the mornings and evenings, but it's not ice and snow. (Actually we need more winter -- rain and cooler temperatures -- because all this false spring makes fruit trees blossom too early.) But it's hard to remember what it's like to have below zero temperatures and ice over everything and deep snow -- and we both have had our share of that. I am not a fan of the 110 degree summer days, but I'll take that in order to have the relatively mild winters we have here -- little or no snow, good rain, and temperatures that only rarely get below freezing. Fifty miles in three directions, however, will put us right in a snowbank with plenty of cold ~ another thing I do like about living here.

So here we are in February again: a short month, sweet holidays, a bit more winter (I hope), and then March comes with spring, and then July isn't far behind with hot days.

Time goes faster as we get older, I think. The hair looks a bit more gray, the skin a bit more weathered, the flexibility a bit less. And I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how that all happened so quickly? I remember being 16, waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up for a date. I remember being 21 and about to graduate from college and get married, and I remember when my now almost-35-year-0ld daughter was a baby, feeding herself pears and cottage cheese with her hands rather than the spoon, and getting it all over her sweet face.

I wouldn't go back.

But I'd sure like to slow this time down a little bit more, savor the days and the love and the weather and the kitties and the tastes and the kisses a little longer. I'm heading rapidly toward what I used to regard as 'old' -- and I know what eventually comes -- and I'm not ready for that.

So I'll try again, always, to live where I am, in this moment, with this chore or this joy or this taste or this hug, and to really, REALLY be present. That's all I can do.

Sliding quietly into 2011

We have come quietly into this new year, resting a lot, reading, watching movies both in theater and on television, eating soup and scalloped potatoes and ham and good egg-and-hash-or-bacon breakfasts and the last loaf of Jule Kage, and clementines to give us a pop of citrus.

T went back to work today; I did too with routine chores and other responsibilities. It's business as usual after a long weekend of rejuvenation.

We have fairy rings all over the property since the big rains: mushrooms are ringing trees and popping up in the low places. And it's been chilly -- we had snow mixed in the with New Year's Eve rain, and the new year's morning saw snow on the car and roof, although nothing much on the ground. The woodstove has kept us warm though, and the kitties lounge on their tuffets in front of it and sleep away the days.

January has never been my favorite month: it's a letdown after the bright holidays, and a month of cold winter. And yet the 15th marks eight years since we moved into our house and left the Bay Area, and there are always a few days that give us a taste of the February spring that waits so patiently. And I'm not eager for winter to pass, truth be told: I greatly prefer the cold and rain to the desperate sun-scorching days of high summer.

But this is my year of renewal, and I have tasks to do to prepare the way. I'll take it accident-free, thank you, in either sun or rain, heat or cold.

November is my favorite month

November is a big month for me: not only is it my birth month (21st), but also Tony's birth month (15th). It's my sister-in-law's birthday on the 9th, and my dad would have been 94 yesterday. My ex's mother died 14 years ago today. And my daughter Vanessa's birthday is the 24th.

It always has marked the beginning of winter for me. I remember a birthday, either my sixth or seventh, in Wayzata, Minn., and watching the flurries outside the window as I unwrapped a big book of stories from my grandmother, who usually sent me books for Christmas and birthdays. I would anticipate the first snow of the winter on my birthday -- of course more often than not it didn't happen quite that way, but I liked to think it did. (And for the record, I don't miss snow...just sayin'.)

It's Thanksgiving month too, with a four-day weekend, and then countdown to Christmas -- lots of food, lots of shopping, lots of activity everywhere, with concerts and fall plays and bazaars and the last of the fall festivals.

Weather is more unpredictable than October, colder than September, but without the surety of cold and rain that mark the early winter days of December. We usually get our first frost this month, and definitely some rain, but leaves still cling stubbornly to the trees. Out here it also means the greening begins, since our 'green' season is winter, and the ground springs to life a little more after each bit of rain. The deer begin to fatten up again with the bounty of acorns on the ground and the new grass, and the big six-point buck that's been roaming our property is looking for nookie as the does hustle out of his way.

It's nearly 70 degrees today -- hardly wintery -- and mild temps are predicted for several more days. It's a good time to get the last red tomatoes out of the garden, pick the peppers, and start cleaning out the spent vines. We'll insulate the water spigots and outdoor pipes on one of these mild days so that we're not out there in cold wind at the last minute.

The outdoor kitties have been preparing for weeks: the twins, Snitch and Squib, are fat and furry, with thick tails that they wrap around their noses as they snooze in the kitty beds on the front porch. Harry Potter, Weasley and even little Minnie have their winter coats on too, although they aren't as chunky -- the twins like to periodically chow down on lizard, mouse or bird tartare, (fur, feathers and all) usually on the front sidewalk where they demonstrate to the other cats the fine art of decapitation on their unfortunately slow victims. crunchcrunchcrunch

The gutters are clean, the chimney likewise, the wood rack is stacked, and the flannel sheets are on the bed. The kettle is on the woodstove ready to humidify the air and the AC and swamp cooler are shut down for the season. I've already made one big pot of veggie soup and have broth ready for another. It's comfort food time: perhaps my Minnesota roots are showing, but I love the stews and soups and roasted meats and warm breads perfuming the house with their aromas. Salad -- our typical summer fare -- simply doesn't smell, y'know?

And I prefer the cozy sweats and fleece of winter to the linen and thin cotton of summer as well: alpaca socks on my feet on the coldest days, fuzzy slippers ready for my cold feet. I like the darker colors, the rich jewel tones punctuated by black, more than I like the whitewashed pastels of warmer weather.

So I'm finishing up the closet changes today, tucking away the summer clothes and light-colored rugs, and winter-fying the decor. I'm ready for the change, ready for whatever the new season will bring me, ready to do something different.

“Fallen leaves lying on the grass in the November sun bring more happiness than the daffodils” -- Cyril Connelly

Back to more normal fare

and off the politics, at least for now.

Yesterday I made a big pot of minestrone and another of chili in preparation for our brief return to cool, wet weather this week -- although the forecast indicated that the rain would begin yesterday afternoon and become heavy this morning.

Guess what. As of 9:30 a.m. local time, we have had barely a drop. Lots of wind going on now but no rain yet.

We'd planned to RoundUp the driveway and street frontage, but hated to see the expensive stuff literally washed away, so postponed it yet another week. Turns out we probably would have been fine -- but you go on forecasts. So we busied ourselves inside instead, with laundry, more paper pitching in the office, and finally putting together my new jewelry workbench.

But back to minestrone.

A few weeks ago the USA magazine that is in Sunday newspapers had a recipe for minestrone, and it sounded good and easy so I tried it. And it is both. Nearly any veggie will work; it is practically no fat (a little olive oil), and chock full of healthy stuff. Yesterday I used some frozen veggies including some of my frozen zucchini, the remainder of a head of cabbage, and the usual onion-celery-garlic trio. I used some chicken bouillion too since I didn't have two full quarts of vegetable broth. Served with a sprinkle of parmesan, it is a satisfying meal. And I love that it is so healthy.

Everyone makes chili differently. R uses canned spaghetti sauce in hers, so I tried it this week with a can of garlic/herb sauce, also adding a large can of diced tomatoes. It's thick and tomato-y, not very authentic, of course, but with plenty of garlic and onion and chili powder, plus kidney beans (from dried) and ground beef. Like the soup, it will get even better as the flavors blend. But with some fat-free saltines, carrots and celery sticks, it made a nice Sunday evening meal.

The trees are sporting vividly green leaves, daffodils are blooming, and spring has definitely come -- but I am not yet ready to let go completely of winter and really look forward to the cool and rainy weather that is supposed to be coming. We head into April this week, and we've already seen temperatures of 80+. I'm just not looking forward to those blazing blast-furnace days of 110 degrees that our summers always include. If we can ease into it over the next two months with cool temps at night, a bit of rain here and there, and nothing too far over 80, I'd love it.

Winter

Rain is drumming a cadence on the metal porch roof again and it's back to more seasonal temps after more than a week of temps in the 60s and even low 70s. There's a fire in the woodstove warming the house (and the lazy cats) and I intend to get out of the office in a few minutes to join them in coziness.

We've had a good season of rain this year and the grass has been plentiful, along with the weeds. The deer are fat and happy. I'm grateful for every drop.

I get my cast off Friday and then we'll see what happens with my wrist. Meanwhile, I've attended to other health concerns which so far have proven to be minor. May that continue.

We've enjoyed vicarious winter sports and snow through the Olympics and enjoy our weekly HBO/ Showtime series plus a few on network tv -- guilty pleasures all, but a nice way to spend an evening. Wish I could say I'm ready to get outside and work, but I'm not, really.

My thoughts and to-do lists seem to be full of "I need to..." rather than "I want to" or "I am looking forward to," encompassing everything from tidying the den to continuing to clean and organize the office to cleaning the cat box. I need to clean out every drawer in the house and organize and sort throug the bits that find their way into silverware and bathroom meds and kitchen linen storage areas. I need to make more hummer food for the wee birds that are seeking sustenance now and then, even in the cold and wet. I need to pull the weeds from the walk near the front door, even if we RoundUp soon, because they're growing fast and thick. I need to climb on the treadmill every day, even if only for 10 minutes. My 'need to" list is neverending.

I'd rather have a 'need to' list that would include reading at least three chapters from a good book every day, or polishing my nails regularly or taking naps more often or writing here at least once a week instead of once or twice a month, if that. I think I spend so much time thinking of the 'need to' list that I never get it done completely and I always put 'want to' things at the end of the 'need to' one.

*************
I'm still obsessing over healthcare, at least somewhat, since I've been calling doctors and hospitals to figure out what we really owe, and checking on our benefits. I am grateful to have insurance at all, but we have been simply floored by the amounts billed and the amounts allowed and the amounts paid. Anthem has a phrase on their Web site as well as on their customer service lines -- both recorded and then repeated when a rep gets on the line with you -- that runs pretty much like this: Benefits are subject to the terms, conditions, limitations and exclusions in your coverage. Benefits are subject to change.

I learned in one conversation with a rep yesterday that my mammogram, for instance, which is supposed to be covered at 60% (unless I have a coupon from Healthy Checkup, which I'd not heard about), is in fact not covered at 60%. It depends upon the deductible that has been met, the provider's number, and the billing code. And then I learned that in some instances, such as when it is performed at a hospital, you are billed both by the facility and the imaging contractor. It is no wonder that the uninsured don't seek preventive healthcare. At least my bills reflect some discount through the insurance companies.

And did you see the brouhaha that resulted from Anthem's rate hike announcement? Not only is the hike the subject of federal investigation, it has largely been responsible for a renewed interest in healthcare reform. And Anthem isn't the only guilty party: see here for more.

Dealing with this stuff is necessary, and I've learned you must question and watch. But fun it is not.

******************

I feel like I've been on hold since the first of the year. I have more energy now, I don't hurt anymore, I'm healing. But I'm ready for something positive, something fun. Don't know what that is just yet.

And my friends and family are still struggling with their own issues of money, health, fear, security, loss. I say prayers for them every day -- but I also never fail to say thank you to the Universe for my own blessings.

One of them just crawled into my lap for a snuggle. He's getting it.=^^=

Living in gratitude

It's not that things are all rosy-posy and life is smooth. Rather the contrary.

But I am floating on a cushion of prayers and love that has just been amazing to me, and I am neither anxious nor immobilized. I'm doing what I need to do fairly effectively, I'm not spinning about things I neither caused nor can control. I'm asking for help when I need it.

And I'm grateful.

Today I had an out-of-town appointment and drove a couple hours down CA 99E -- a mostly two-lane road that is not a barrel of laughs when it's sunny and dry. It was raining most of the way, not torrential downpours, but rain.

It was actually very easy and very beautiful.

In the first place, I'm so grateful to see rain again and seasonable temps! We've had some good rain in the past couple of days, and the prospects for more stretch out for at least the next 10 days. Our highs and lows are where they should be, not in the 70s. It's wood stove time again, warm fuzzy sweats, sweaters. I love it.

And even though it's way too early, the orchards are starting to bloom, so there were little stars of pink and white sparkling through much of that drive. Further south, there were fields of a bright yellow flower -- not sure what it is, maybe mustard? -- that absolutely popped in the grey drizzle, especially against stark, dark trees that aren't ready to bloom.

I thought about how fortunate I have been to have the wonderful, supportive husband I do, who I love and cherish more than I'd ever dreamed I could. I thought about how lucky I am to be the mother of two daughters who, despite all their difficult issues and heartaches, give me great joy. I got to raise one of them from birth; the other since she was 16. Yeah, they drive me nuts sometimes and I want to shake them until their teeth rattle, but I wouldn't have missed it.

I am grateful that I live in this beautiful state, that I get to experience living so close to the land and the seasons. On the drive back home, the sun came out and through the clouds over the eastern mountains, little pockets opened up here and there and I could see snowy slopes that were almost pink from the sun's reflection. (And I wondered WHY oh why I don't always travel with my camera~!)

I love coming back to our house and its familiar warmth, not just from the stove, but because it is a place we created, that we filled with love and memories of our families. I love that our kitties miss us and are all over each of us as we browse through e-mails and read blogs and news. I like knowing that in a few minutes I'll head for bed, and they'll be right there, ready to cuddle down and guard us while we sleep.

I'm grateful for people who offer unanticipated support and caring words, for people who want to help others get better, for understanding. I'm grateful that so many people in this world are truly good people.

I'm very much living in the moment, doing what needs doing, taking care of business, but not going into the what-ifs and potential ice weasel territory. Tony says I'm compartmentalizing; I'm not sure that is it exactly -- it's just the way I'm living my life, all parts of it, for right now.

May you find blessings wherever you look, no matter what's going on around you.

Contemplating the weather...and The Secret

It's hard to think of snow and ice elsewhere in the country when our temps are 70 degrees as they have been over the last few days. My friends and family who are braving temps in the teens and ice pellets as they drive slowly to work don't want to hear about things starting to bloom and early spring fever. Most of them truly do have the six more weeks of winter forecast on Groundhog Day.

If it's any consolation, our respite is nearly over (okay, for a few days) with wind and cooler temps in the forecast (okay, so it is supposed to climb back near 70 for the weekend...please don't shoot the harbinger of spring here). Truly, I do expect some cold and rain -- and even welcome it. We still need more rain, and I'm not ready for spring and constant sunshine just yet. The cool grey feeds my soul too, and I haven't had enough yet. There's a severe weather alert out that calls for fairly strong winds, and I'm not crazy about that, however...

I have so many good things to read, so many interesting TV programs to watch, but a whole lotta bunch of deadlines to meet this week are keeping me from doing much of either. I'm not complaining, mind you (okay, not much). It is good to be working and good to be writing.

One program I managed to squeeze in was the latest Oprah show on The Secret with several life coaches giving their perspectives. In this month's O magazine, Martha Beck talks about envisioning the perfect mate, for instance. Now I already have the perfect one for me (((glow))) but I actually visualized what I wanted in a partner years ago, long before I met him, without knowing anything about the law of attraction. No, I didn't know the color of his socks (read the article), but I knew the critical stuff. And I got all of that and more.

While there is a lot to ponder about the Secret, it boils down to choices we may make: to be positive or to be negative about our lives, to curse god and die when things happen that aren't fun and are hard to deal with (and I cannot believe that even the Secret devotees don't have a few bad days and bad stuff that happens to them), or to concentrate hard on the only thing you actually have the power to change: your own attitude; and figure out a way to live a good life even with problems.

I'm actively practicing gratitude, morning and night. I'm trying to figure out the happiest moment of every day and to give thanks for that every night. I'm sending love and energy to friends and family who I know are struggling with issues, and I'm sending it to myself. I'm asking the universe for what I want, and I'm trusting that it -- or something better -- will happen.

A couple of weeks ago I had an opportunity for a "regular" job and strongly considered it. My deepest heart, however, screamed "NO!" at me, although I tried to give it all proper consideration. And then the universe threw another option at me that fits much better with the way I work -- that message was waiting for me when I returned home from talking to the folks about the first. Coincidence? There are no coincidences.

I asked the universe for what I needed and wanted. And I got it.

Trust. Act. Be grateful, every day, for every thing. Ask... and trust again. Be patient.

It will be all right.

I believe that.

Purification and renewal for this weekend

Today and tomorrow are, for many, the beginnings of spring. February 1 or 2 are celebrated as the Feast Day of St. Brigid, who, according to various sources, was the attempt to christianize the goddess Brigid.

Brigid traditionally is associated with home and hearth but also with wisdom, poetry, craftsmanship, and healing.

It also is Candlemas, the day midway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, and traditionally associated with cleansing, renewal, and, of course, candles. But first Candlemas was known as Imbolc, associated with the flowing of ewe's milk for new lambs -- the awakening of the world for spring.

If you've noticed, the light is coming back: days are lengthening quite visibly. In just over a month, on March 9, we begin daylight savings time again -- spring forward. The dark is over for this winter.

My friend Lunaea gives directions for making your own Brigid's Cross. She says, "The cross represents the cross-quarter days of the wheel of the year and the sun and the balance of energies and elements, and many other fine things. For me, it also represents movement, progress, and radiant strength, all good things to affirm as the light returns to bless the land."

I've got a fire in the woodstove and will light candles tonight as I honor these days both pagan and Christian, and reflect on creating, purifying, and renewal.

May light shine in your life.

Snippets here and there

Little bits of this and that for a Monday morning....

We went to see Peter Pan last week in Redding, part of the Broadway series for which we've had tickets for some four years. It has been a wonderful investment and we've seen some fabulous shows -- the first one in this series, The Producers, was one of the very best. We're also both very fond of Cats which we've seen twice in this venue.

Peter Pan is a cute show -- I remember seeing it on television, as a child, with Mary Martin as Peter Pan. It was first telecast live in 1955 and re-staged live (by popular demand) in 1956, and then was broadcast infrequently with the last one in 1989. There have been other Peter Pans over the years, including Mia Farrow in an all-new version in 1976 that never caught on.

I admit to being a little disappointed in this production, although it's still a delightful evening. But I didn't think the choreography was up to the standards usually seen from a touring production, and it just didn't sparkle.

There are still four plays left in this year's series, and I'm looking forward to them, but especially Gypsy in March and Chicago in May. Wish they had something similar in Chico -- it makes for very long days for Tony when he goes to Chico in the morning and Redding at night.

****************

Lately I've just craved sugary stuff -- not a good thing. I want cookies...candies...cake...anything sweet. Of course sugar is addictive! I know this. And I really do try to resist the urge, and seldom keep any of the above in the house. My dad had a very sweet tooth, also not a good thing since he was diabetic, and while he did really well most of the time, he did love ice cream at night, or cookies. I dunno if such cravings are genetic, but if so, I got it. I'm trying to eat sensibly and control portion size -- and mostly I do. But it's really hard sometimes. Maybe it has something to do with winter and comfort foods?

*****************

What a wild ride the weather has given us lately, from our wind storms early in January to the more than 2.5 inches of rain we had in 24 hours this week! I'm now recording rainfall amounts for the Tehama County Resource Conservation District, and it's been quite fun to see the amounts we're getting. We need the rain, even after some good ones, and I'm glad to see it. However, I'm also glad (and surprised) to see sunshine today, even if it's a little chilly (45 degrees at this moment).

I like winter. I like the gray days and rain. We get so much sun and hot weather that I feel like I need to soak up the cool and wet days. I like having the woodstove radiating heat throughout the house, and making soups and stews and the occasional loaf of bread (nothing better than hot bread with butter...unless it's hot cookies -- which are NOT conducive to healthy eating). I love clean sweats and fresh flannel sheets, and sleeping in cold rooms when I'm snugged under the comforter next to my honey's warm body. (and why, oh why, are men always like little furnaces? The only time women are is when they get hot flashes.)

I love watching the hills turn green from the rains -- something that after 10 years in California I've finally gotten used to, after a lifetime of brown, dead vegetation during Midwest winters. I like the stark sculptures of bare tree limbs against that green.

And the snow! We're not high enough to get it (although snow flurries have been forecast for this week at times and Redding has been snowed on several days this winter), but it's lower on the surrounding hills than we remember seeing since we've been up here. The mountains are gorgeous on these sunny days -- they sparkle with the white stuff! And the mountain mama Mt. Shasta rises high above everything on the landscape, covered with her pristine mantle.

Mind you, I don't want to live in it, but I like to see it.

***********************

My desk is still piled high with Christmas cards, papers, newspaper clips, and various reminder lists, and I'm slowly working through the piles. I did get the office pretty much sorted out and cleaned up, and these are the last bits. I admit that I did not send holiday letters -- several years ago I started sending them just after New Year's, but partly because the power outage threw everything off kilter, I didn't get them out, although it's written. I'm thinking that maybe I'll send out a few for Valentine's day -- just to the friends and relatives who wrote us nice notes and letters. I swear I don't know where the time goes. It's nearly February already.

*****************

I'm working this year (again) on being where I am: not anticipating the future nor worrying about things I can't change, not obsessing on irritating or worrisome behaviors of other people, but just trying hard to savor the moment of where I am, and being positive. Life is short as it is, and seems to go faster the older I get. I'm trying not to waste a moment getting wrapped around the axle by other people's actions and choices, and negative outlooks. If that makes me a big Pollyanna, then so be it.

Electricity is my friend

Like thousands of other north state residents, we lost power in the second of three winter storms that swept through the state. There were hurricane force winds on Friday that closed Tony's office in Chico, city halls in nearly every city north of Sacramento (at least), and shut down I-5 for some time.

Power went off here at about 7 a.m. Friday and came back on about 12:45 p.m. today.

We were warm, thanks to the wood stove. I could cook, thanks to the gas stove. We had bottled water, and I'd filled tubs and a deep sink with water on Thursday evening, fully expecting that we'd lose power, so we could flush and at least wash our faces (we're in the country and our well pump works on electricity -- so no electricity, no water). We have a pair of oil lamps and lots of candles. Tony made coffee in the motor home using its generator, so we had good, hot coffee.

But this storm was longer and harder than anything we've experienced here so far. The wind had the kitties stalking nervously from living room to bedroom, from door to door, and they didn't settle in until it calmed down around noon or so. It rained more than an inch and a half on our land -- we've got a rain gauge. The sliding door in the office was vibrating from the wind, and the tarp covering the woodpile nearly blew off although it's well strapped down with bungee cords. The wrought iron swing outside the office door blew over.

We were lucky. We didn't lose trees, nothing blew off the house except the drain pipe for the swamp cooler -- but I heard of a house in town that lost the swamp cooler along with a signficiant portion of the roof. Trees blocked roadways and hit power lines and fell onto homes.

When we drove into town yesterday afternoon in quest of batteries, everything on the south end was dark including the venerable WalMart. Raleys had generators that allowed them to open for business. The True Value was dark but open, accepting cash or checks only, and staff greeted you at the door at Tractor Supply, asking what you needed. Shops downtown all had lights on and power, as did another shopping center towards the Interstate, but east of I-5 was completely shut down -- McDonalds, gas stations, businesses, and all -- except for one or two which clearly had generators.

We listened to the radio last night and heard about the hundreds of thousands who had lost power and the snows that were closing highways through the mountains. We listened to NPR's "This American Life" and felt a little like we were back in the '40s or '50s when families gathered around the radio to hear their favorite shows.

It was not a relaxing day, however. The winds were unsettling, and every thump startled us as we hoped it wasn't something damaging. In the back of our minds were the freezers full of our summer garden produce and the good Tehama county beef we'd bought last summer, now without power to keep them frozen. We worried about the various electronic devices that drive our business and leisure: were they damaged by the brownouts that occurred as the electricity went off? How long would the outage last?

We called PG&E, of course, to report the outage, and at regular intervals during the day and evening, speaking optimistically when an automated call informed us that power would be restored between 8 and 10 last night, and then a later update said betwen midnight and 2 a.m. Neither happened. Another call this morning got Tony on the line with a real person who basically said she had no idea when we'd get it, and we were beginning to think about taking frozen food into town to put it in a friend-with-power's freezer -- and maybe grabbing a shower there as well (we're used to showering daily, and were beginning to feel a little grungy around the edges).

And then it was on again. And nearly everything worked -- the internet is not quite what it was yet, but it's there. We're clean and our food is safe.

I'd have made a lousy pioneer.

I tried to read last night by oil and candlelight, and found it hard on my eyes, and tiring. I missed hot water and showers, and clean hair. I missed the easy access to the Internet and its vast library of information.

I'm very grateful for PG&E crews who worked long hard hours in the rain and wind and cold to restore power to 30-some thousand homes in Tehama County, not to mention the others throughout the area. Yeah, their communication was full of glitches and not terribly helpful, but they tried -- at least you could get through to the report line and even to a real person: they didn't simply shut everything off.

We learned something from this storm: we did not prepare enough. I think a portable generator may be in our future. Definitely battery-powered lanterns and some big collapsible water containers are on my list, as well as plenty of batteries in assorted sizes. I bought more lamp oil this afternoon. This was a once-in-10-years storm according to the forecasters and a couple of long-time residents. We've lost electricity before, but only for hours -- maybe 6-8 at most -- and not recently. I'm grateful we came through this as easily as we did.

We'll sleep better tonight.

Down time

Winter is raging outside today and will be, according to forecasts, for several more days. We need the rain.

But I have a fire in the stove, hot tea, and we still have power, so I'm watching movies and mindless stuff on our new DISH system, which was our Christmas present to each other this year. We feel like we went from zero to 100 mph with it, since we'd had only rabbit ears for the last nearly five years -- by choice, I might add. But we're thoroughly enjoying HD movies and shows, and the variety of programming that is available.

I'll get back to work soon, but for now, a little down time feels very good. It was a very busy December for work, a wonderful trip to Tennessee for Christmas, and then a New Year's Day gathering here that was great fun. And even fun things necessitate some work -- shopping, cooking, prepping, etc. -- so it is nice to sip tea and be still for a while without any 'gotta-dos' on the immediate horizon. I've realized I seldom allow myself a day off -- completely off --

I've been flirting with a cold though, one that Tony brought back home with him, and so I'm trying to ward it off through regular doses of Airborne (the generic equivalent, at least), and my favorite Wellness Formula that really does work. For some seven or so years we've taken it at the first glimmer of illness, and it's saved us from bad colds and flu many times.

With this latest cold, Tony had begun taking it before we flew, and upped the dose a bit when he got a scratchy throat. As a result, he never really felt bad nor did the cold go into his chest. It's just been drippy nose alternating with stuffy nose, and that's pretty much all. I'm popping it now in hopes of similar results, although I've said for years that I rarely get sick because I'm too mean to get sick -- the germs leave me alone.

I've given some thought to new year intentions -- not resolutions, for they almost invariably get unresolved -- and so far they're not much different from last year's. Mostly I want to be where I am -- to savor each day for whatever it brings me, to find joy and gratitude every single day. I still work on kindness both to myself and to others, and patience (ditto). More about listening than speaking. More acceptance of what is, less judgment. (I am not very tolerant of people who are judgmental, either, nor of those who think their opinion is the only one that matters. So I guess that makes ME judgmental, hm...)

Time for more Wellness formula. And Oprah.

May you have some downtime without being sick to get it!

Slow it down!

December is flying by -- it's like the wind that's been around here for several days is urging the sun to scoot across the sky and night to come more quickly.

Our days are shrinking -- slightly less than two weeks and we'll be at the shortest day of the year, the Winter Solstice. And then it's a rush to the New Year. At least days will begin lengthening again as we continue with the second half of winter.

It's not that I mind winter. I rather like the cold days, the clouds, the rain and wind. It makes me want to curl up with a book, cat in my lap, and sip tea while I read something delectably trashy. (Like I've allowed myself THAT particular luxury... ha!)

And I don't miss the sunshine much. We have so much of it in the summers that I like to soak up the clouds and cool.

No, it's that the days go by so quickly, with sunrise at 7:20-something, and sunset before 5.

I've also been knee-deep in deadlines, as if merely accomplishing Christmas tasks weren't enough -- and they've taken second place to the other deadlines. There are no cookies nor breads baked, nothing is wrapped -- very little has been purchased or done, and what's going to be mailed has gotta be ready in a week. I did get a few decorations up yesterday so it looks festive, and we've been enjoying Christmas music immensely.

A word on that: the Trans-Siberian Orchestra has a couple of Christmas CDs out that are just dynamite played on a good system -- they're good regardless, but we've enjoyed them even more with new equipment.

Do you remember the Christmas lights video of a couple of years ago? That was set to one of the Trans-Siberian cuts, "Wizard in Winter." The creator of the lighting display has done several more since, actually creating a company as a result of the popularity of this display.

Anyway, the music is quite fun.

So I always have good intentions of making gifts -- sewing, or taking photos, or baked goods -- and sometimes I actually do it -- but I don't think this is the year for much. I think I'll get a little baking done, but not a lot -- and we don't need it anyway. I'll send fudge and maybe a couple of other things..

The wind has been really wild and is supposed to get more so tonight, I gather. And yet the leaves are still clinging to the trees like fleas to a dog! They're ugly and brown and tired, and yet they still hang on. I guess we need a hard rain and more wind to help them let go.

I suppose we cling to old ways like that, hanging on until they're shriveled without a speck of moisture or life left. Takes a hard rain -- or the cheese moving -- to make us let go so that the new leaves can be nourished, and eventually bud and furl out in the spring. And that will come all too soon, I know, blowing in with the wind.

Once more I'm trying to stay in the moment and not obsess over what is undone or unwrapped or unpurchasd or yet to be sorted. It's a daily effort, isn't it.

Listen to music. Savor the moment. Enjoy the friendships. Stay in touch with family. The rest of it just isn't as important as all that. Cookies can be purchased. Gifts don't have to be extravagant, nor even perfect -- everyone I know enjoys the intangible gifts of the season more than the purchased ones anyway. Oh, I've got things I must do -- but I'm going to have fun along the way too.

A seasonal miracle

So it happens every year....and today was the day. The green sheen has returned, signaling the beginning of winter!

I've been watching for it because we've had some nice rainy days with enough precipitation to soak the ground. Tuesday it wasn't there. I looked out of the kitchen window this morning as I was making coffee -- about 7 or so -- and *thought* I might see something. A little later, with a little more light, there it was...under the golden, dried grasses of summer was a hint of green.

I called Tony over to the window and pointed it out, and I swear, it got greener as we watched. Strands of green grass are poking through the matted summer coat, especially where it's more worn, like the deer paths. By late afternoon there were swaths striping the land.

I love watching this. I love this season of dormancy and returning to the underworld -- you remember the myth of Persephone and the pomegranate seeds? The leaves fall, plants die back -- although their roots may busily be growing deep in preparation for spring -- the harvest comes in, another growing season is complete. And yet....in California at least....it is green in the winter.

Winter memories

Snow was in the forecast last night and today, and Redding saw a small accumulation and Cottonwood had flurries. We had rain, but nothing white. And it probably won't hit here.

It made me remember other snows in earlier years, though, especially one when I was little and we lived in Wayzata, Minn. Last night I was in that semi-dream state between awake and asleep, and could *see* the living room in our house there. I was about 5 or 6 and was in first grade -- which, incidentally, I hated -- and it was sometime near my birthday in November.

And it was snowing, big, fluffy, lazy flakes that drifted out of grey skies and covered everything. I watched it from our kitchen window, and then saw the mailman tromping up our walk with a package. And it was for ME.

It was from my Grandma Canfield and was a big book of stories and poems -- I remember getting a lot of books from my grandparents as a child because so I loved to read. This one was the kind they don't make anymore: large, maybe 8x10 or 11, heavy cardboard covers with a glossy illustration on the front. The inside pages were very thin and, as I recall, tore easily. But they were filled with what seemed like hundreds of stories.

I don't remember a time when I couldn't read, so I don't remember if my parents read it to me or if I read it first by myself. I had it for years, though, eventually coverless and tattered, although I don't remember specific stories. I just remember being thrilled at all those options, all those lovely words and images.

I was very attached to my security blanket back then, too, even as a first-grader, and I hated when Mother washed it. She'd put together a little, maybe 6-8" square, temporary blanket with the silky binding simply basted on it for those wash days (and remember that clothing and linens was all line-dried in those times, so in winter the wash was strung up in our basement for several days until it dried).

I was, at that age, also forbidden to bring the blanket out of my bedroom because as a first-grader, I was "too old" to be carrying it around. *sigh*

But I recall sitting with my new book in the living room, in a floral upholstered chair that was one of three that could go together to make a sort of loveseat, with the temporary blanket hidden behind my back and looking at the new book with one hand turning pages, one hand stroking the soft binding. I'd suck my tongue too, when I had my blanket, but I didn't realize then that while Mother couldn't see the hidden blanket, she could tell I had it in off-limits territory because my mouth moved!

In my drowsy state last night, I could *see* the upholstery, even feel the texture and that green scrap of woolen blanket with golden binding. The book cover was vivid -- it had a small child with curly blonde hair (one of those androgynous rosy-cheeked tots) reading a book in front of a blazing fireplace. I remembered the snow falling and the grey November winter.

It was a good memory. Maybe that's why I always have liked grey wintery weather -- I was safe, warm, happy, and I had a new book. Not a bad way to spend these days now, either -- safe, warm, happy, and with a new book.

Food, friends and flowers -- spring is coming

The daffodils I've planted for the last two years around the property are coming up, even though we're returning to a taste of winter this week. Almond blossoms, though, have mostly flown with the strong winds we had this weekend. Spring is a mere three weeks away.

Once again -- still -- I am awed by the swift passage of time. Those warm 100-degree days don't seem that long ago, and their return will come too quickly. I want to slow down a little! I want to savor the Irishly-green grass that colors the hills again since the rains. I want to drive down the road through blooming orchards, admire the sweeps of daffodils and jonquils on landscaped lawns. Sniff the aromatic softness in the air that is spring -- earthy, green, sweet scents. It goes by so quickly. This will be the fifth spring we've lived here; the sixth since we first came to Red Bluff. Wow.

We enjoyed a group of friends this last weekend, attending the Rotary Crab Feed where we ate prodigious amounts of those crusty-lucious critters, and again last night at an impromptu birthday party where we laughed so hard our stomachs ached and again ate well. I think life's best times are around a dinner table with friends or family when you're enjoying conversation, good food, feeling warm and cared for. These are truly those "Hallmark" moments! I listened to different conversations and watched animated faces softened by the candlelight, and felt well and truly blessed.

We came here because we wanted a better quality of life than we'd had working in the Bay area. We envisioned our home, having a circle of friends, being self-employed, spending every day with each other instead of just a daily few hours and weekends. And we have it all. (Okay, so maybe the self-employment dollars could be better... but we're also working on that.) That's asking for what you want, setting intention, and working on it. It's "The Secret."

Thanks be. Blessed be.

"Twas a cold and blustery day

Wellll...the deathless prose I just created got lost in a Firefox crash. Everything wiped out except the title. Mercury retrograde is snickering gleefully.

I wrote about the pregnant tarp over the woodpile that is billowing in the very gusty wind. And the 47 degree temps that feel like 37. And the daffodils and blooming almonds that are going to get their little premature heads nipped. And the fact that I'm not ready for sandals and tee shirts yet -- I want more sweats and sweaters, and yet I note how cold it feels in the office.

I wrote about feeling unsettled like the weather, and acheybreakey in the joints despite the remedies we take for it, and chalking it up to aging.

I mused about saying gratitude prayers every morning for being in this wonderful place, for the tremendous love with which I am blessed, for family, for friends old and new, for enough food, enough warmth, a beautiful house, for loving pets and being whole. And yet I still groused about endless to-do lists and little foreseeable financial gain, and no recreational respite in sight.

Guess that crash was a message that I need to just suck it up and remember how blessed I am.

'Twas a dark and stormy day

It was a good day to stay in and bake cookies.

I don't think it got completely light until about 9 a.m. and it was starting to get dark by 3. We have rain and drizzle, with more of the same predicted for the rest of the week, although daytime temperatures aren't bad -- in the 50s. This weekend will see lows right around freezing. Snow could come as low as 1500 feet, but I doubt we'll see even a flurry here. Which is just fine with me.

So I baked Jule Kage and two kinds of cookies, filling the house with yeasty, cardamom-y, buttery aromas, and listened to carols from Mannheim Steamroller and John Rutter. It was a cozy sort of day, and I expect to have a couple more this week, as business is very quiet -- not at all unusual for December in any kind of market, but this one is slow anyway. And I've still got killer fudge (this is almost mine -- I use unsweetened baking chocolate instead of the semisweet) and peanut brittle to make in addition to several more kinds of cookies, more bread, and a new holiday cake/loaf that sounds really yummy.

Baking is one of my favorite things about the holidays since I seldom do it the rest of the year -- we just don't need those extra calories. And even though it'll just be us here to enjoy it, I'll give lots of it as gifts. It's very comforting to make so many of the same goodies every year, although I always have to try a few new recipes. I remember baking the same recipes, years and years ago, and where I was and what was happening in my life then.

The fudge recipe is one I found in a Zionsville, Indiana, church cookbook sometime in the '80s, and have made it ever since. It never fails, is completely rich and chocolatey, makes a full, creamy 11x15 panful, and my brother raves about it. Even my daughter eats it, and she's not a chocolate lover (amazing, I know)...

Christmas is the only time I make it, and I savor every single piece.

And then there's peanut brittle. Now my orthodontist doesn't read this blog (at least I hope) or I'd be hearing about the evils of such candies, but honestly, homemade peanut brittle made with real butter and raw peanuts, cooked to a lovely brown, and then spread in a buttered pan, pulling it as thin as possible, is one of the joys of the season. Mother had two recipes from fellow teachers, and I'll usually make both. The recipe card, in her handwriting, is stained with butter and sugar from years and years of making it.

When I was working full time back in Alabama, I'd get up very early and mix a batch of cookies and refrigerate it until I could bake them. I'd do marathon baking sessions one December weekend and freeze everything. I'd always swear I'd start in November the following year, but that's never happened. I need the carols, the wintery weather, the time pressure! to feel the baking urge. Or the Christmas shopping urge, for that matter. Nope, I'm not done. Nope, nothing's wrapped (and won't be until I need to mail packages to the kids and my brother and sister-in-law).

But I'll get there. I always do. It just takes a little December winter to get me in gear.