Wet, Wild and Warm

Kiwi and Kea came through the door looking like Panda bears.  It was 8 p.m. last evening and about time to shut them in to the garage for the night.  

I'd never ever seen them so coated with snow.  They had black rings where their eyes where opening and closing must have melted off the snow. 

I'm sure I could have scraped off enough of the sticky white stuff from rest of their bodies to build at least a snow dog.  

I looked out the door and saw the vehicles completely covered.

"Must be this storm is a little worse than predicted," I thought, closing the door.

The steady dump of heavy flakes was still going strong when I went to bed.

Our roof occasionally roared as deposits slid off to land on top of the latest 4-foot high piles.

So, this morning I was expecting another messy challenge of making my way to the barn.

But no.

It warmed up over night.  High, blustery winds were in full force blowing away some moisture.

Turns out the walk to the barn was easy.  

The barn door, however, hadn't heard about the weather change.  It still refused to open on the first try, requiring several hefty pushes and a few cuss words to start moving.

Other than that, chores weren't bad this morning, and the air feels so good outside.

The sky has cleared, and it looks like a pleasant day ahead. 

I'm hoping the warmth will take away some more snow.  Maybe this will be the worst of the winter.

Whatever the case, January is almost over.  Every year, its conclusion marks reason for celebration for me.

Yesterday,  while visiting with my mother, she kept saying "nothing's new."  Finally, I reassured her.

"It's January," I said. "You know how January tends to grind on."  

She laughed, and agreed.

Trying to muster up something fresh and hopeful for her day, I pointed at the calendar on the wall with the cats doing Yoga. 

"You can turn your calendar over soon," I said, "and see what exercises the cats are doing for February."

Mother loves her Yoga cat calendar.  Any mention of it makes her laugh.  Those cats with their crazy expressions are, indeed, funny.

We resort to the trivial sometimes just to make it through January.  

Seems like stuff that normally goes without notice becomes big and important----a helpful means of breaking the monotony of winter. 

I'm sure we would not get very excited about cat calendars in June, July or August.  

In fact, we might be so busy we forget to turn the calendar into the next month.

Speaking of which, Bill had one calendar on the wall next to his desk that stayed on the same month for about three years.  I think he finally took it down.  

I'll have to go check when I go downstairs.  That will give me a task to break the sameness of this January morning. 

Actually, it's not that bad, but I must say that every day in January requires a little extra in the mood-lifting department.

Oops, Bill just came back in the house.  I do not need to go downstairs to find out what happened to the calendar next to his desk.

"What did you do with that Quest calendar," I yelled to him. "Is it still hanging on the wall?"

"No, it's in the pile on the floor between the desk and the wall," he said. "It was about four years old and people were giving me calendars, so I took it down." 

I don't know how traumatic taking the calendar (featuring photos of the Quest Kodiak) was for Bill, but he's moved forward in life.  

No longer is March 2007 on the wall next to him providing guidance on what he's going to do on given days.

Yup, it's Jan. 25 upstairs here----wet, wild and warm---a little like my mind.

And---just one more speaking of calendars item----I had a wonderful telephone visit with my friend and classmate Andrea.  

She's been sitting in a field of flowers on the bed next to my computer since January 1. 

In a calendar photo, of course!

Happy Wednesday/Almost-End-to-January!