Category Archives: Nature

Nature

Down South, Promises of Spring

Flying into Atlanta on the first day of spring, it was a great relief to see that the white patches below were not snow but the blossoming pear trees.  Otherwise, branches were bare, and color was at a minimum.  Spring has been slow in coming this year in Georgia, as in so much of the country.  The infamous ice that trapped hundreds of Atlantans on the highways overnight  in February evidently wreaked havoc on spring’s plans for buds and blooms.  The weather wasn’t warm enough for sandals and porch-sitting, as I had hoped, but it was a decided improvement over that of still-thawing Virginia. And once on the ground, in the bright, cheery sunshine, every tiny leaf  and every small flower appeared radiant and jewel-like.  It had been years since I’d had a taste of springtime in Atlanta.  It felt very right to be back.   

Atlanta171

Pear trees in full bloom in my parents’ neighborhood.

Atlanta028

Periwinkle peeked out among fallen oak leaves.

Atlanta057

Violets flourished in the cracks of the concrete turnaround at my parents’ house.

Atlanta030

In the rock garden, Lenten roses, shy and subdued.

Atlanta157

Every spring, for as long as I can remember, these small flowers appear in the lawn panel bordering the sidewalk in front of  a neighborhood house.  Pale lavender, with yellow centers, they have a strong sweet scent, unless they’re picked, when they quickly take on a sharp skunky odor. I gathered some in elementary school after a piano recital and learned my lesson.  Anyone know what they’re called?

Nature

Spring!

spring 009

This first day of our Virginia spring began with heavy fog. 
The Worm Moon is on the wane. 

spring 014

spring 019

The sun begins to show its face through the fog.

spring 023

spring 028

In our yard, daffodils and lingering snow. 

spring 032

Buds on the sassafras tree.  The fog has given way to blue sky. 

It feels like spring! 

Community, Family, Nature, Parenthood

Snow Day # 10

 

Snow017

Just as predicted, more snow.  And yes, schools are closed again.  This is a gorgeous, fluffy snow, the kind that appears to coat tree branches with cotton puffs.  While I got my fill of the white stuff several snow days ago, this one occurs at a welcome time.  My daughter returned yesterday morning from her annual drama trip to New York City.  It’s a twenty-four hour excursion, from 4 AM Saturday to 4 AM Sunday.  They saw the musical Pippin, did an improv workshop, toured the theatre district and went to the Top of the Rock. D slept until early afternoon but was still exhausted.  Today is a much-needed catch-up day, a time to ease back, slowly, into her regular schedule.  A 5:30 wake-up in our house is never pretty, but it would have been frightfully ugly this morning.  Thank you, St. Patrick’s Day snow!

On a sadder note, the kids may be in school until mid-July.

Snow0371

snow2004

Community, Nature, Walking the Dog

Snowmelt, and Can it Be, a Hint of Spring?

I can’t be alone, among those in the snowbound sections of our country, in having recently felt lost in some permanent winter limbo.  Last Friday that sensation was particularly acute.  I was on the fifth day of a nasty cold that was keeping me exhausted, shivering, stuffy, head-achy and generally miserable.  Each day brought a new symptom.  That morning I welcomed the onset of a deep, bone-shaking, throat-searing cough.  I had hoped for a couple of hours extra sleep after H and D left for work and school.  Typically on dark, overcast mornings, I go upstairs to find Kiko curled up on the foot of my bed.  As soon as I get out, he jumps in.  But this morning he had been continually underfoot, pacing, staring expectantly, demanding to walk as soon as possible.  He was oblivious to the morning’s gray hostility.  So by 7:30, under a leaden sky, my dog and I were picking our way across piles of dirty brown snow, a biting wind whipping at our ears.  He was scampering merrily.  I was trudging grumpily.

 This cold had hit me harder than most, and I was finding it difficult to power through.  Maybe the excessive chill of the winter had sapped my strength.  That Friday I was especially gloomy, knowing I wouldn’t be able to spend the day bundled on the sofa, dozing and working through weird Tivo selections such as Hal Ashby movies from the 70s.  I had managed to do little else for four days, but my time was up.  We needed groceries and every known household paper product.  Prescriptions were awaiting pick-up.  It was the day for my allergy shots.  Kiko would need another walk.  And I should probably make dinner for a change.  Ugh.  I counted the hours until I could go back to bed.

But Saturday was indeed a new day.  And best of all, it felt like a new, much-anticipated season.  The sun was shining with a glorious intensity, the sky was blue, and the temperature was climbing into the 60s.  The robins were feasting. The snow was melting.  Suddenly, winter was on the run. For the first time in what seemed like years, it felt like spring.

churchrailings004

The melting snow added a sense of drama to our first spring-like day.  This was an early spring day akin to those described in The Secret Garden  and my favorite books of childhood poetry.
churchrailings008

churchrailings007

churchrailings002

What do you know, there are tiny buds on the cherry trees!

Community, Family, Nature

It’s Snow Day #9. Will We Make it to #10?

For the ninth day since the beginning of this school year, classes are canceled in northern Virginia because of snow or extreme cold.  This has to be a record-setting number.

As for snow, I’ve had sufficient.  My dog and daughter, however, disagree. 

002

Kiko enjoys dashing playfully through this snow, which isn’t as deep as our last one.  Just when I noticed that the snow had piled up on his multi-colored soccer ball so that it resembled an Easter egg, he ran to attack it, hoping I’d fight him for it. 

004

011

Family, Nature, Parenthood

My Favorite View: At Home, with Moonlight on the Snow

Briefly, we were almost completely without snow. For several days, our lawn had been visible (our messy, muddy, stick-strewn lawn). Heavy fluffy flakes began falling in earnest this morning, and now the neighborhood is blanketed in white again. Should there come a time when the snow melts for real, there is one aspect of it that I’ll miss. That’s the vision of moonlight on the snow.

My all-time favorite view is the one from our upstairs windows onto the snow-covered front lawn on a moonlit night. February’s full moon, according to my Farmer’s Almanac desk calendar, is known as the Snow Moon. Here in Virginia it’s certainly lived up to the name. During our recent snowy spell, many nights were clear, the sky black, the stars intense, and the moon big and bright. So bright that it lit up the snow with a gasp-inducing glittery incandescence. Against the glowing white snow, the shadows of our maple trees were dramatically dark blue. This magical view always takes me back, back to the first January we spent in our house, when our daughter was a year old. That winter I often gazed out at that view, brand-new to me, rocking, nursing, cuddling my baby girl. It felt good to be in a place I could call home.

The memory of that time is perhaps particularly vivid because, for so many years, I had postponed settling down. By my own choice, I was a latecomer to marriage, motherhood, and a fixed address. When I arrived as an eighteen-year-old at UGA, I discovered how much I enjoyed campus student life. Thanks to a taste of the working world following college, I soon realized that graduate school offered the chance to return to a life free from many cares of traditional adulthood. I managed to be a grad student for eight years. That sounds like an incredibly long time, I realize, but there were many in my field of art history who lingered far longer. I relished that busy peripatetic life, happily unsure of where I’d be the next year. I moved at least ten times during grad school, including two house-sitting stints and a year-long residence in London for dissertation research. Traveling as a student was cheap and easy. I had acquaintances scattered across continents and no strings to tie me down. I made wonderful friends, met a great many unforgettable characters, and had exciting adventures.

But even I couldn’t sustain such a rootless lifestyle forever. By the time I met H, I was feeling the need for a change. Yet because he was seven years younger, I assumed our timelines would always be hopelessly out of sync. Wouldn’t he need another decade or so to figure things out?

Fortunately he required only half that long. Five years later we began our married life together in a tiny Butler Tract apartment in Princeton. It took us only two more moves before we landed in our old Virginia farmhouse. It seemed to wrap its arms around us and say, You’re home. You’re a family. Stay a while.

We have, and we will. On every snowy, moonlit night, before I go to sleep, I look out the window and give thanks that I’m here in this house with my husband, daughter and dog. My only regret is that my parents aren’t nearby. All else considered, I’m right where I want to be. Right where I hope to be tomorrow and for years to come. After so many years of running, it’s good to rest and be home.

My favorite moonlit view is unphotographable. But this recent early morning scene of Kiko on the lookout gives some sense of the blue shadows on the snow.

H and D in front of our house, soon after our offer was accepted in December 1999. That was back when the maple stump was still a full tree.

Our daughter in the spring of 2000. Back when she enjoyed playing with a basket of crumpled paper. And when her eyes were still blue. They’ve since changed to green.

Nature, Walking the Dog

This Snow Won’t Go

Feb14001

moresnow004

Last Wednesday’s snow remains very much with us. Every yard is still an expanse of white.  Our old maples appear far shorter, due to the snow banked high on their trunks.  Snow plows created towering fortresses at every intersection. Roads are bordered by messy, jagged ridges that grow more discolored every day, yet never seem to diminish in size.  Parking lots are dotted with miniature mountains.

Days of bright sunshine combined with frigid temperatures created an icy top layer that sealed in the snow below.  The squirrels, whose zest for life appears boundless, chase each other playfully across it.  Kiko is less enthusiastic.  He investigates the snow piles tentatively, placing each paw carefully to see if the surface will hold.  He is clearly irked when  a leg or two plunges through the crust and leaves him in an awkward position, his dignity compromised.  The shaded sections of our driveway are still thickly coated with ice, making a short trip to the car a dangerous business.  We weren’t able to fit in our mid-winter visit to my husband’s family in Rochester this year, but the landscape of upstate New York appears to surround us.

The predicted warming spell has arrived, yet it has had little effect on our snow cover.   Two days ago, I saw a good omen.  I watched as Kiko picked his way delicately over the mounds of deep snow on our patio to reach his favorite sunny snoozing spot, newly uncovered. That night, however, brought another two inches of fresh powder.

Today we may finally see a change.  The temperature is expected to climb into the high 50s. As we finished our morning walk, a light rain began, and I was cheered at the prospect of some of the snow washing away.  I had barely completed the thought when I heard a long, loud, slow rumble of thunder.  Kiko heard it, too.  Oh no!   That meanie’s back!  (See Evading the Terrible Thunder Monster, April 2013.)  He began to pace nervously, circling the house several times before allowing me to wrap him tightly  in his thundershirt. The daily inconvenience of the snow had me dreaming of spring.  But I’d forgotten that with it comes, for my dog, the nightmare of thunderstorms.  Maybe it would be best that the winter cold continue for a while, snow or no snow.

 

Feb14012

 Kiko reclines atop the snow, eyeing the street for approaching friends. 

Family, Nature, Parenthood, Walking the Dog

Real Snow. Enough Now.

Jan_Feb20142456

Today we have a snow day with real snow, and lots of it.  The schools here in northern Virginia used up all their snow days back in January.  Yet there’s been very little actual snow.  Certainly we’ve had our fill of frigid temperatures and diverse forms of icy accumulation.  But as for the pretty fluffy white stuff, not so much.

Until this morning, when we woke up to over a foot of the real thing.  It’s more snow than we’ve seen here in four years, when we were treated to back-to-back blizzards, pre- and post-Christmas, that paralyzed the area.  Last night’s snow was enough to shut down all runways at Reagan National and Dulles Airports, enough for the government to call a State of Emergency, enough even for my husband’s office to close.  This gave him the chance, at long last, to fire up his essentially unused snow blower, the one he bought in 2010, just after those last big storms.

The street was a smooth, untouched, snow-covered ribbon this morning when Kiko and I headed out for our walk.  We were grateful to be able to follow the parallel impressions left by a car sometime during the night.  In the tire tracks, the snow didn’t flood up and over my boots, or envelop Kiko’s entire body.  Where the snow was completely untouched, my little dog was forced to bound through it with a sort of swimming motion.  He seems to thrill at that first plunge, but his exhilaration quickly dissipates.  Following his exertions, he slept for hours on the playroom sofa.  All day long I’ve been tempted to join him.  Wouldn’t it be nice if we all could be so lucky?

My daughter, of course, was delighted by the snow, and by yet another snow day.  As for Kiko and me, we’re ready for spring.

Jan_Feb20142450

Feb13002

Jan_Feb20142470

Jan_Feb20142447

My daughter, at home in her element.