In regard to Indiana's current cold snap

Photo by Vic Mastrogiovanni

I must admit, it's getting old
This indoor life that's caused by cold.

The dogs are crazed, my husband bored,
I'm on my knees to beg the Lord:
"Please, oh please let them go outside."
My nerves are jangled, I want to hide.

It's peace I need, I need me some!
What shall I do...where'd I hide the rum?
What is the matter, what can it be?
What's stressing my delicate sanity?

The walls are slowly coming in,
The ceiling's nearly at my chin.
The floor is closer it seems to me
The room grows smaller or it seems to be.

My husband shares a valid thought
And in the phone book finds what's sought.
A quick phone call, oh hurry please
And soon the flashing lights we see.

Two men in sparkling coats so white
Haul me into the frigid night.
They are so kind, give me a shot
And peace descends, WOW, quite a lot.

At last I'm calm and now can breathe.
They cloak me in a shirt with sleeves
That cross in back. Not stylish: sad.
At least the fit isn't quite so bad.

My husband happily calls out to me,
"Honey, the Farm is where you'll be.
I know you'll beat this Winter thing,
I'll come and get you, come this Spring."

~~~~
From the talented Indiana Guest Writer, SA Springer

(inspired by Donna and a little Dr. Seuss).

Wishing You Warm Fuzzies!

May your season be bright

with laughter and light

and whatever makes you

feel all warm and fuzzy

Love,

Elizabeth Munroz

Winter Warnings

 .

 

once verdant and plush,

once brilliant...

like red and amber jewels,

blessing with visions of warmth,

these harbingers of winter

hang listlessly now,

ready to fall

to their earthly graves.

Daddy to the Rescue

I found my Dad’s stubbornness particularly irksome one Friday night after partying with friends until the wee hours.

Because of the bitter cold, my rattle-trap car was acting up worse than usual. and left me stranded on the icy expressway.

Eventually a car came along. I flagged it down and got a ride to a 24 hour coffee shop where I called home awakening my father from the only sleep he had received between two overtime shifts.

When Dad arrived I just wanted him to take me directly home. But, he informed me we were going back to get my car.

“It’s a piece of junk.” I said. “They can tow it away to the impound and keep it!”

“No. It is the principle of the thing. That automobile has served you and you have a responsibility to at least save it and.......”

“But, Dad,” I interrupted, “ We’re not talking about a living creature, here....”

“And...” He continued, “no daughter of mine is going to abandon a vehicle on the highway like trash, where somebody could get in an accident on account of it. Besides, it is against the law.  Where is your personal integrity?”

“My personal integrity?”  I sputtered  “It abandoned me about three hours ago when that stupid car abandoned me!”

But, I knew Dad was right. This time, I was the one being hard-headed.  He stood there grinning at me, already knowing I would give in.

“Keep your chin up. You can do this.” he reminded me.

Dad opened the hood and began troubleshooting.  I stood there shivering with the flashlight in my gloved hands as my father’s bare fingers worked over the carburetor.  Each time the wind howled, I whined.  “Just leave it, Dad.  I really don’t care!”  But, Dad cared very much and kept at it.

I wondered how he could tolerate the weather. I was bundled up. He wore his work jacket, no scarf for his neck, no hat to warm his bald head. As his face and ears turned red, tears formed in his eyes from the sting of the snow. He grabbed the hood of the car and pulled it down, grazing his forehead. He reached up with his chapped hands and wiped the blood on his sleeve.

He shouted, “Get in the car!”  I thought, finally, he is listening to reason, as I sauntered back toward his car.

“No, I mean your car! Get inside and turn the key!”

“Don’t you ever give up?” I shot back at him.

He looked directly at me. “Not on your life!”

I got in my car and turned the key. Lo and behold, that piece of junk started right up and purred.

Driving home I felt ashamed of myself and filled with love and a new found respect for my father’s determination and sacrifice.

I realized, I can succeed no matter what the odds because I inherited determination, not stubbornness, from my father.

And looking in the rear view mirror, I held my chin up, and was secure in the knowledge that Dad was right behind me in more ways than I had ever imagined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Photos are from family albums. The photo of my father wearing a goatee is one I took.

For the Wonder of a Tree

She stands
With breezes teasing
Long leaves dripping after rain
Named Willow,
an old and venerable one
verdant in the summer sun
She survives

Spending winter naked
Withdrawing into herself
to her roots
She hibernated
And slept while cold death
Bit at her branches
Yet she lives

By some miracle
She awoke
At the appointed time
The mystery
Known only to her
and her mother, Nature

She revels in this season
Shading all who pass by
Bending to the winds
In a private dance
The two repeat together
She’s a feast for the eyes
Against the turquoise skies

Yet she weeps

by Elizabeth Munroz

Wasting Water

When I moved here I found the yard very dry. I began watering every day and tried to loosen the soil. Nurturing it along, I began to create a garden of favorite plants, which needed more nutrients and more watering. The picture on the left it my house with unsightly lawn, a few straggling rose bushes. I tried to save them. I tried.

As the decade has gone by, it has been a losing battle. I kept working hard using my best gardening skills, after all, I am certified as a Master Gardener through the University of Santa Cruz. I kept spending money in the hopes that I would finally have a well established garden which would, more or less, take care of itself. Some plants did well. Some did not.

Unexpected protracted winter freezes, unusual for my climate, damaged favorites which needed special care to come back only to be damaged again during another year's freeze. Even though I watched the weather and ran outside to cover my precious plants, trees and shrubs, still frost damage occurred. During foggy times of the year, some plants were affected by mold.

I stopped attempting to amend the soil. I stopped watering the wasted garden so much. I had gotten to the point to make the decision. A little wisdom goes a long way and it was time to let nature take it's course. The plants died off that were not suited to my climate. As a Master Gardener, I should have known better.

Slowly, I have replaced them with Native plants  or Mediterranean plants which grow symbiotically here in the soil as it is, with the weather as it is, with the water or lack of water as it is.

As time goes by I hope to have a self sustaining garden, and a very cheap water bill.

Doesn't look like the same house. Does it?

Spring Flooding

The winter of 1949 had been harsh, starkly white, and unsafe for a little girl to go out. I stared out the dining room window at my big naked friends, the Maple trees, wondering if they were asleep like Mommy said.

Sometimes I looked across the way and saw our neighbor, Mrs. Samalski, the Police Chief’s wife, through her window tending to her houseplants. I wondered why her plants weren’t asleep. Sometimes she saw me, smiled and waved at me.

Spring rushed in with unexpected warmth that nearly drowned us all. The Niagara river climbed over it’s banks.

Muddy water eddied in front of our doorstep, crept over the sill, and filled the basement overnight. I gazed out the window at the kaleidoscope patterns of the water as it rose around the house.


I was entranced by the sights and sounds outside as we waited for the boat rescuers. It wasn’t the roar of the water that piqued my curiosity; it was the human-like moaning of the trees as they fought to keep their roots in the thick clay soil, and the muck-sucking sounds when the flood tried to tear them out by the roots. Those tall proud Guardians won the battle as the waters swiftly receded.

After the water withdrew, I begged to go outside, so I could investigate the new sprouting green buds, and splash in water puddles (wearing my high galoshes, of course).

After all, my big brother had been out there every day since the flooding began, filling sand bags and shoveling mud with Daddy. It was a disappointment for me, once I got outside. All the beautiful mud patterns were gone and I struggled as the sludge grabbed my galoshes. Needless to say, I landed face down in the stinky stuff.

Discouraged, I dragged myself back inside and stayed safely behind my window as buds opened into lovely leaves. The sun dried out the earth, neighbors gathered together to clean up the mess as the days went by. Then, with my nose pressed hard against the window, I closely examined the newly blooming Lilacs at the base of our window, and welcomed their return.

Keeping Warm in California Winter

Not all California homes are properly insulated or weather worthy, especially if they are older. This is the type of home I live in. It is also unfortunate that inadequate heating is also a problem.

A 6 foot gas heater built into the wall of the hallway is the main source of heat for the whole house, which throughout the winter, even here in California can waste a lot of energy with heat going up the flue! Also, by having a heater in the hallway, the hallway might get up to 80 degrees (26 degrees celsius) before the bedroom would get up to a comfortable 65 degrees.


I recall when living in snow country we often heated our homes to warmer temperatures. But, I'm fairly sure that is not the case today.

It is not unknown to have freezing temperatures where I live. I have a lemon tree in my front yard and there have been times when the lemons have been ruined because of it. One winter we had two full weeks of freezing temperatures, for example. Again with inadequate insulation (none in the walls) this can make it quite uncomfortable inside the house.

Nonetheless, I have decided this year to decrease my use of gas for home heating. I have had the pilot light to my heater turned off, so that I will not be tempted to use it. Plus, I will not have to pay for running a pilot light, which according to a friend, saved him 8 dollars a month, once he turned it off.

Having been raised in snow country, my logic is that I can live with the cold. Now that I am older, I can use some of the methods learned in childhood to keep myself warmer. Layer my clothing for example. And, when it is particularly cold in the house, I can stay in one room. By my presence alone, my body heat can make a degree or so difference from the rest of the house. Keeping my insulated, floor length curtains, closed as soon as the sun goes down helps to keep some heat inside as well. If I am watching television or using my laptop, I am aware that some heat will be produced by them. I don't think as much heat emanates from my energy saver curly light bulbs as incandescent bulbs would have provided. But, it's a trade off on energy costs, not only for the little bit I can do for the environment, but also for my utility bill.

One thing I have noticed is that when my bedroom is beneath 58 degrees, I begin to be uncomfortable. It doesn't help that I have arthritis. If I am sleeping, it doesn't matter much. Up until recently, I just piled on the blankets. It makes a big difference, also if one uses flannel bedsheets.

I have recently made two concessions for myself. I occasionally will use an electric heater in the daytime to bring the temperature in my room up to a toasty 62 degrees. Also, I bought an "energy saver" electric blanket to use at night, and have been quite comfortable even when the temperature in my room drops to 47 degrees, which it has done occasionally this winter. I haven't yet recieved my utility bill for the month of January, so I do not know if this has all been a sensible idea. Will my use of the electric heater be a detriment?

My utility bill is combined, gas with electricity. Gas usage is always less expensive than electricity. But, I am hoping that by not wasting gas, my bill will be considerably less. We shall see.

With my utility company, I can go online and compare my usage to last year, so I am looking forward to seeing if it will make a difference.

California Winter

Since I live in coastal California, the devastating cold weather that others in the country (in the world) experience through the winter is not such a major factor in my life.

Yet, having grown up in Niagara Falls, New York, I haven't forgotten Lake Effect snow storms, or 15 foot snow drifts or ice so thick it can cut a huge tree in half, and fall on your car. (Yes, that happened once.) I haven't forgotten sub-zero temperatures with a wind chill factor of 30 below. That would be -35 centigrade.

When I attended Elementary School, I walked a half mile to school, even in the wintertime. They didn't use school buses except for field trips. It would have been a good idea for me to wear what my mother called a snow suit, which was a thick jacket with leggings. I found them bulky and after about age 7, only the dorky kids wore them.

Sometimes, if I was sensible, I would wear flannel lined cordorory pants and boots (galoshes). But, by age 10 that was the time to stop wearing them. So, I hurried that half mile with bare legs. Girls didn't wear pants or tights to school. It was only when I was 13 that it began to become popular to wear your brother's jeans, but never to school.

I look back on those times with awe at the little girl who got through those winters. Sometimes the weather might be cold when I left for school in the morning, then be much colder and maybe snowing when returning home. If people didn't shovel off their sidewalks, I often walked in the street to avoid having the snow make my feet colder.

Occasionally, a friend's mother would offer a ride home. Both my parent's worked. Things were different then. I was a pretty independent kid by circumstance. I think most children today have much more protected lives.

You might have heard jokes about Grandpa saying, "When I was a boy, I walked 9 miles to school all winter long!"

Funny! One day, in the summertime I actually did walk 9 miles to my school just for the fun of it, with friends, and got a ride home from Dad. By this time, I was a teenager and we no longer lived in the city and had moved to a rural location.

The nearest city was Lockport, New York, named because of the Locks which ships traveled through on the Erie Canal. Fortunately, by this time, I was able to ride the school bus throughout the school year, and therefore did not have to face quite the winter challenges I did when younger.