Snow Day

Chickadee Photo-bomb – Day 813

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What are you lookin’ at? – Photo: L. Weikel

Chickadee Photo-bomb

My feathered friends were in fine fettle today. Comings, goings, dodging of snowball-sized snowflakes. There was even a chickadee photo-bomb thrown into the mix. Life doesn’t get much better than having access to such color and sassiness, puffery and strategy.

We’ve formed a mutual admiration club that only seems to improve with time. I ensure their supply of sunflower seeds is topped off and never in danger of depletion and they provide a non-stop tutorial in avian culinary predilections and territorial posturing.

It just so happened I received an article about those very habits in my inbox this morning, which made my observations all the more enlightening.

Patience – Photo: L. Weikel

A Mere Sampling

It should be noted that the photos in tonight’s post are from only one of my feeders. The truth is, there’s an entire cadre of winged ones that don’t even deign to visit this particular feeder, probably because it’s so close to the house. As a result, these photos are but a mere sampling of the visitors we entertain.

The truth is, these spoiled creatures have access to seven other feeders on another side of our house. I just happen to feature photos mostly from this feeder because they’re the easiest for me to take. Indeed, sometimes it’s hard for me to get anything accomplished when they’re flitting and kibitzing with each other right outside my window.

And then there’s the occasional Boeing 747 that lands on the feeder, scattering all the little ones from hither to yon. I’m talking the red shouldered woodpeckers and blue jays, mostly. While these beasts were around today and sending everyone away in an occasional frenzy, they seemed a bit camera shy.

Don’t talk with your mouth full – Photo: L. Weikel

The Others

After I topped off the seven ‘other’ feeders, including the peanut coil, I stood very quietly on the porch and just observed. It did not take a full sixty seconds before everybody got the word that the goods had been delivered. A free-for-all was here for the taking.

Many of the birds that grace our land enjoy nibbling their kibble directly from the ground. Cardinals tend to be ground feeders (although they obviously won’t hesitate to imbibe from a feeder if need be), as do juncos. I didn’t realize that until today, when as I stood stock still on the porch to see who would show up if they thought I’d retreated inside, I saw at least fourteen juncos show up and do a little dance under the peanut coil.

I’m pretty sure they were more interested in the sunflower seeds I’d scattered there than the peanuts, but you never know. I’m always surprised by the little guys that try to wedge a peanut twice as big as their head out of the coil. I have to wonder: is that a ‘meal for the day?’

Crowd at the bar – Photo: L. Weikel

Sacrifice

I made the conscious choice to keep my phone (and hence my camera) in my pocket as I stood in observation mode on the porch. It was a sacrifice, but I didn’t want any movement of mine to scatter them. I wanted to see if I could get them to feel safe enough to eat freely in my presence. At one point, my quick count of all those prancing on top of the snow, clinging to the feeders themselves, and kibitzing from the overhanging branches of the maples came to at least 68.

I have to admit, it was a precious few minutes early this afternoon when I was graced with their trust. I’d decided to refill the feeders at that moment because the snowball-sized snowflakes that had pelted the area in a barrage of white fluff (it got deep fast) had subsided. The Weather Channel app on my phone was remarkably accurate this storm – and true to their prediction, I had a window in which to refill the feeders.

As I stood there watching and listening to the house and goldfinches, chickadees, juncos, cardinals, sparrows, woodpeckers, blue jays, wrens, and nuthatches call to each other, the snowstorm resumed. The flakes were no longer big enough to build a fort with singlehandedly, but they were falling so thickly and furiously, my eyelashes were coated and I could swear the birds were ducking.

This was a wonderfully beautiful, long-lasting snowstorm that I was delighted to enjoy with the birds that share our land and home with us.

Cletus and Spartacus, on the other hand, the ones who usually are first out the door? That was not on their agenda today.

It’s a snow day, Mommy – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-298)

An Observation – Day 765

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Sunset 12/15/2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

An Observation

I had to run out to the grocery store – two, in fact – today. I needed to stock up on the ingredients necessary to fulfill my lofty snowstorm baking aspirations. In the midst of doing so, I made an observation that I wasn’t expecting: there seems to be an air of anticipation and happy excitement ahead of the snowstorm that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow.

Usually people are grumbly and cranky over an impending snowstorm. And one might think, given the severely restricted nature of our lives over the past year, that the prospect of being cooped up in our homes (yet again) as a result of a snow dump might just have people sidling even more toward the surly edges.

That did not seem to be the case. Instead, I witnessed cheerfulness and a bit more warmth from fellow shoppers and store employees than I was expecting.

Retreat

Could it be that everyone wants to get snowed in?  Is the realization of how much and how quickly the Covid-19 virus is spreading be sinking in? Is it possible that everyone just wants to hunker down and not have to think about washing their hands or making sure their mask is covering their nose and their mouth?

If we’re forced by the weather, something visible and tangible, to stay inside, then it just restores a sense of normalcy to our lives, even if fleetingly. Because let’s face it, our everyday work lives are not normal. Every day we get up in the morning and, if we have to deal with the public or report to an office or a courtroom or a nursing home or a prison, we have to entertain the possibility that we might get sick. Even if we wear our masks and stay 6’ away from everyone, the possibility exists that someone we’re talking to or walking behind may spread it and not even realize it.

And that’s a huge stress.

Find Joy

It sort of feels as though we’re all just so darn ambivalent. Of course we want to work. Not only do we (hopefully) get a sense of worth and purpose from our work, but let’s face it, it pays the bills. And yet the script that’s running quietly at the base of our skulls just keeps on whispering its relentless litany of ‘what ifs.’ A nice thick layer of snow feels like the perfect muffler to drown out the incessant worry.

May we all stop tomorrow and listen to the snowflakes as they click softly into place, piling one on top of each other. If you still have to work, may you find joy. If you get to leave your workplace early, give yourself permission to play – even if it’s only fleeting. Play. Laugh. Find joy. Remember, too, to look for it.

Sunset from the grocery store parking lot – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-346)

Cocoon Day – Day 101

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“Sheila’s ‘Saucy Cocoon’ Look” – Photo by L. Weikel

A Day to Cocoon                   

Oooh, today’s post ‘count’ seems like it should be an auspicious. Day 101 with 1010 days left to my 1111 Devotion…  Actually, it turned out to be a cocoon day.

From casual observation, it seemed like everybody else was feeling it too. The weather forecast once again was calling for it to get pretty slippery and slide-y out there. But I sensed a more generalized willingness to embrace the forecast. For instance, our school district canceled school for both students and the administration right out of the gate. That doesn’t happen often.

An Unexpected Wave of Closures

Then I received a notice that our bank was going to close at 1:00. The bookstore would also be closed. Even Owowcow decided not to open!

Inasmuch as I had no intention of driving anywhere (I’m not even sure Good Girl will start; there is that to consider), I could only applaud the wisdom of those closings – and marvel that they were taking place at all.

It seems to me that I’ve grown up in and lived in a society that values money over all. Capitalism rules. Working ‘hard’ is The American Way. And that can-do spirit always seemed to translate into stores staying open through thick and thin, from morning ‘til night, in abysmal weather or the most exquisite days of summer. It has resulted in people driving on roads that would be better left to be plowed when the snow stopped – and getting hurt, or worse, as a result.

So I was surprised. And as a person who works with people on all sorts of issues and feelings and conditions, it made me especially happy that people were choosing to stay home and cocoon. Because I feel that is precisely what all of us need, want, and actually require in order to get through the coming days.

Grabbing the Unexpected Opportunity for a Cocoon Day

I hope that, if you were anywhere in the vicinity of this snowstorm (with a coating of ice on top tonight, apparently), you took this unexpected day home from work to cocoon. To make something warm to eat, maybe drink some hot chocolate or a hot toddy (which are pretty yummy) and allow yourself to get lost in chapter upon chapter of a book you’ve been yearning to immerse yourself in. Perhaps take a walk, or try your hand at picking a card and noticing how it might apply to your life.

I know I wrote about this in my Snow Day post. But I can’t emphasize enough how insane our relentless focus on working is; on putting in the hours; on sacrificing ourselves, and often our marriages and family life, “for work.” It wreaks havoc on our bodies, our minds, and our emotions. But most importantly – and tragically – it wreaks havoc on our souls.

Which brings me to the magic about a day like today. It’s different than a weekend. Weekends tend to be as dramatically over-booked in our hectic lives as our weekdays – if not more so. It’s obviously better than a sick day, too (assuming, of course, we felt great today).

Cocooning Couture

Pictured above is Sheila, our 15 ½ year old Boston Terrier. She cocoons on a regular basis, and is a wonderful teacher of the artistry inherent in “cocooning correctly.”

Indeed, the photo above is her “Saucy Cocoon” look. Shortly after it was taken, we threw her coat on and practically had to drag her outside for our walk, heartless beasts that we are.

It was hilarious to watch her literally drag her feet. She did not want to take a walk late this afternoon. She kept trying to herd me into going back. (Which, by the way, is an amusing thing to witness: a Boston Terrier trying to act like a herd dog.)

She kept thinking we were going to change our minds and go back home. Cocoon. (I kept hearing her trying to mind-meld me. COCOON. MOMMY, COCOON.)

It Starts With Us – and It Takes Practice

Nevertheless, we persisted (to co-opt a phrase). We walked all the way around our usual route, past High Rocks, enjoying the muffled quiet (and dramatically reduced car traffic) that accompanies a snowfall. And in spite of the ice patches, crunchy snow, and the piles of slush she needed to navigate, she was clearly happy we’d insisted she join us. Her gate was spry and jaunty by the time we got home. (She gave up the mind-melding and efforts to turn us around after about a quarter of a mile into our walk.) Spartacus, of course, was all dog the whole way – simply delighted we were all together; happy to be alive and part of the family.

I’d like to think our society as a whole is starting to embrace the wisdom afforded by taking the occasional cocoon day. But even if it isn’t, we need to remember: it starts with us.

Hopefully, we’ll get at least one more day this winter to take a page from Sheila’s book, Cocooning Correctly. Will you sport the Saucy Cocoon look as well as she does? She makes it look easy, but I assure you: it takes practice!

(T-1010)

Snow Day?!? – Day Ninety Two

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
“Ice Storm Aftermath – 2014” – Photo by L. Weikel

Snow Day?!?

Oh, how I would normally be loving this evening’s weather forecast! I’ve not yet reached that place of bah-humbug-ism that gets cranky over a potential snow day, and if I haven’t by this late date (read: age), I probably never will.

But I do find myself lamenting the fact that I cannot revel in the anticipation of a day of unexpectedly being forced to stay at home. My revelry is stifled by the need for me to be in the very heart of Philadelphia tomorrow morning. By 8:30 a.m., ideally. That’s early.

Winter Storm Warning

It’s early considering how every time I’ve driven there over the past couple of weeks I’ve hit nearly standstill traffic just about eight miles outside the city. I’d be trucking along, making great time, and wham. All of a sudden, everything slows to the closest thing to being a stop without actually stopping. It is maddening.

But now, drastically complicating matters, there’s a Winter Storm Warning in effect from now until midnight tomorrow night. And under the heading “Precautionary /Preparedness Actions” the Weather Alert states: “A Winter Storm Warning means significant amounts of snow, sleet and ice will make travel very hazardous or impossible.”  The emphasis is mine – all mine.

Ordinarily, I don’t mind driving in snow. In fact, I usually relish the challenge and special effort it takes to navigate well in snow. (Ice, as they say, is another matter entirely. Nobody “drives” in icy conditions. Rather, they get behind the wheel and hope there’s no one else anywhere near them when they have to brake or turn a corner, for momentum is everything on ice. Let’s face it: ice can result in some scary shit.) But I don’t even have my own car to drive tomorrow. I have a loaner from my mechanic because my beloved Prius is having “coolant issues.”

Not My Car

I’d make a crack about her having hot flashes but they’re actually cold flashes and I wouldn’t find it amusing anyway. The poor car has 306,540 miles or so under her belt. She’s allowed to have thermal regulation anomalies. She’s earned her pecadilloes!

Much as I don’t usually mind driving in snow, (a) we could have up to 2/10ths of an inch of ice lurking under the snow tomorrow; and (b) I’m obviously not as ‘connected’ to the loaner as I am to my Prius. I prefer, if I”m going to be driving in snow, feeling like the car I’m driving is an extension of myself. And after logging over 306,500 miles in my car, I can safely say I know my car and how to maneuver her in dicey weather. I can’t say quite the same for the loaner.

Septa, Oh Septa – It’s Been a While

Of course, my other option is to take the train. That would be a trip down memory lane! When I commuted to Center City during the four years I worked at the Women’s Law Project, I adored my train, the Septa R5, and the extended opportunity it gave me, morning and night, to either write in my journal or read lots of books.

But alas, in order to get to my course on time, I will have to catch either the 6:30 or the 7:00 a.m. train. That’s early. And from the sound of the forecasting, it’ll be the in the think of the storm. Did I mention I’m not a morning person? Ha – yeah, I think I did.

Whatever tomorrow morning has in store for me, I need to get to bed now if I’m going to face it with any equanimity whatsoever.

Here’s hoping you’re reading this from the warm coziness of your home, having decided to stay home today and enjoy a good old fashioned “Snow Day.” Indulge your senses, whether they’re taking in the crystalline beauty of the precipitation as you take a walk outside or melting into the snuggly goodness of being wrapped in a blanket and losing yourself in a book for a few hours.

And even if you have to go to work, give yourself permission to tap into the excitement you know lies deep in your heart – that “Snow Day!” exuberance we all felt as little kids.

(T-1019)