Morning arrived with a striped sky—bright bands of gold and pink, salmon and mauve that lent a festive start to the new day. I welcomed the cheery beginning, seeing as how the thermometer was, at the time, registering a measly 4˚F. The coldest temperature so far this year.
Burrr! No…make that double-burrrrr!
Though it has now climbed to a balmy 11˚F, there's still not much chance of the ice under the snow softening anytime soon. Which means I'll have to keep slipping, sliding, plodding, crunching—and about every third step, breaking through the thick crust. All of which makes walking around both insecure and tiring.
In order to keep my butt from making frequent and painful impacts with the iron-hard, ice-topped earth, I've taken to employing an old sucker spear—with a trio of sharp tines, like Neptune's trident—as a makeshift walking stick. This dandy tool has proven especially useful when negotiating the small-but-steep hill up to the mailbox. And should sasquatch be lurking amid the cedars and honeysuckle, I'll simply brandish my fearsome weapon in his direction and try to not scream like a girl.
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10 comments:
HI GRIZZ_
you are too funny. :-) And our weather is so similar to yours - as is the icy walk ways - I don't venture out with out an arm of another to which I cling as well as my rollator, which, I might add, is no good on ice - no tread or grip on the wheels!!!
Today we are headed to my neurologist appt. - my routine 6-month check in - I still get so nervous though - eesh I am such a baby. We got wood delivered early this morning - had to dump it on the drive way because of all the snow. Skipp had to haul it back to the deck and inside. It's all done now - phew. I was the "door" opener.
I love the 'visual' of you with your make-shift walking stick as you avoid a fall on the icy terrain - which is so exhausting to navigate - especially if one wants to appear graceful!! :-)
Love to you
Gail
peace.....
Well if you do end up screaming like a girl, please try to have the presence of mind to record it. I'd like to hear that.
Love that striped sky.. it's heavenly.
Gail…
First off, best wishes and prayers on your doc visit—though I know you'll fine. You seem to be doing well…and there's no reason to think you'll not continue to do well in the future so long as you mind yourself, do what the docs tell ya, and rest. Just be really careful on the ice.
Surely you jest about me being graceful—walking stick, ice, or not! Moreover, I flat don't care what people think of me—if I'm upright and heading in the intended direction (more or less) I'm happy.
P.S. Now you let me know how things turn out today.
Hilary…
I can assure you—should a big hairy woolly booger leap out of the bushes at me, recording my less-than-manly reaction will not be anywhere near the top of my priority list. Self preservation comes first, and providing you with a bit of comic relief is a distant third, after a trip to the ER to make sure whatever damage I've done to myself during the escape is superficial and non life-threatenting.
What a stunningly beautiful photo, Grizz, with the dark branches silhouetted against the salmon and lavender sky. I know that man can never adequately capture such beauty, but I must say (hopefully, with no offense) that this image reminds me of some of Jackson Pollock's paintings.
George…
Sunsets and sunrises are just impossible shots, as you realize…and this morning's example was not really spectacular other than its long washes of yellow-gold against the purple-pink. I liked that and made a shot, and captured just a hint. Maybe. But what was really going on here, as with any good art (and I don't mean this shot is good art, obviously) is that it stirred something in me. I felt it more than I saw it—visceral rather than visual.
That YOU see something in the image, even reminiscently, of Jackson Pollock, is…well, flabbergasting praise. One could only hope.
That's the sort of weather we had here until the end of last week; then with a sudden warming to positive temperatures, aided and abetted by strong winds, Nature has taken on a March feel.
Your comment to George that you felt as much as you saw of the sunrise is one that I can really identify with.
If you are not prepared to record your reactions to any preditor lying in wait for you then we guests here will just have to use our imagination. Reading the comments from fellow visitors, I think that imagination is not something that we collectively lack.
Take care.
...Tramp
Sensational photo yesterday, Grizz!
Do watch your step and keep alert. You never know what may be lurking in the bushes ready to pounce!
Tramp…
We're supposed to warm up into the low 40s (F) midway through the weekend. We'll see. It's cold here today, but sunny and pretty. Really not bad.
Re. those "felt" photos…I'll often often make a photo of some scene, not really knowing what it is I'm trying to capture—light? mood? texture? some abstract quality?—and still not understand when I look at the result on the computer screen once I get home—but continue to feel something about that image. Occasionally, just occasionally, I figure it out; I understand or see the photo in there that I first only felt. There's obviously something intuitive going on, but I'm just not smart enough to figure it out with any degree of regularity. Or maybe it's just a few weird neurons firing off in my brain in confusion.
Finally, don't think you have to worry much about my imagination—I am, after all, a writer, Irish, and a fisherman. If I miss recording the real details, I'll invent even better ones. Never let the facts get in the way of a good story!
Solitary…
Thank you re. photo.
Nope, those secretive buses are apt to harbor all manner of bloodthirsty beasts and things with fangs that prowl the night. I'm keeping an eye on 'em, you bet!
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