Friday Five: Winter’s on the Way

SingingOwl at RevGalBlog Pals tells us: “The picture is of my back deck after the first heavy snow last winter. I am looking at the weather forecast with a sigh of resignation. You see, our glorious unseasonable stretch of sunny days is ending and rain mixed with snow is in the forecast. The weather guy actually said, "This is probably the last nice day till spring, folks..." So, I am trying to plan ahead. Help me out, please. When it is cold outside:”
1. What is your favorite movie for watching when curled up under a wooly blanket?

I think I’ll have to go with Bell, Book and Candle with Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak.
2. Likewise, what book?
Mostly, I read new books. But I do like to go back to Jane Austen from time to time. And I have a book (actually a series for each season) called Winter: A Spiritual Biography which is nice to dip into – it’s an anthology of writings about the season.

3. What foods do you tend to cook/eat when it gets cold?

Beef stew, bean soup, pie, gingerbread, pot roast…you get the picture.
4. What do you like to do if you get a "snow day" (or if you don't get snow days, what if you did)?

In that case I’d really take the day off – bake or cook only what I wanted to, do some reading, watch a movie. Enjoy the snow with the dog.
5. Do you like winter sports or outdoor activities, or are you more likely to be inside playing a board game? Do you have a favorite (indoors or out)?

Inside, thanks. Board games are fun. We like Trivial Pursuit (I just got the “Lindbergh to Eisenhower” edition at a church sale, so watch out, Sisterfilms!), Scrabble, and Twenty-Five Words or Less. Cribbage can be fun too.

We have had 59 inches of snow this winter

and although some of it melted during our January thaw last week, quite a bit is still here. So in response to requests, here are more pictures of snow!

This first one is "Why do I have to wait?" which is what Rusty is thinking as I am taking the picture. The big mound in front of him represents partly fallen snow and partly shoveled snow from the walk. All the photos were taken about 3 pm so it is getting on for sunset already.



The second photo shows our "back yard" such as it is, and a bit of the Mansion House behind us. Our house stands on what was once the majestic front lawn of this house, which has now been added to and contains apartments -- all of which appear to be rented by very nice, quiet people. Our deed says that we may never build a house higher than 1 1/2 stories on our lot, to maintain the ascendancy or at least the view, of the Mansion House (it's called that in the deed). Most of our back yard is the slope up to where the trees are. I think the light is pretty on the snow.




Next, looking over our side and front yard -- the corner of our lot -- toward downtown.
Here is a picture of our house as seen coming back from a walk on Maine Street. You will note we have not shoveled the front steps and walk. This is because (a) it's Maine, no one uses the front door, in fact in the country houses often have front doors but no steps up to them; and (b) the walk is a bit steep and tends to get slippery very easily, so this is for the protection of UPS delivery people and such, who do try to use the front door because that's where the address is. (The mail carrier delivers to the side, where the mail slot is. No complaints from the USPS here.)

We like our big 50s picture windows because they let lots of light in, and on sunny days like today we get free heat, which is not to be sneezed at these days, when a gallon of heating oil costs as much as a gallon of gasoline. The white, non-snow thing visible at the lower right corner is the electric door to our garage, which opens into the basement. In all the years we lived in Exile (aka "40 below keeps the riffraff out"), we never had an attached garage, or a garage door opener, and indeed for the most part did not have a garage our car would fit into. So we think we are living in the lap of luxury now.

Songs to Celebrate Winter

So, I skipped a few Tuneful Tuesdays, I was too busy having fun with Sisterknits and others. Next week I'll try to have a few ideas for Epiphany season music, but today in keeping with the previous post here are a few songs for celebrating winter (or daydreaming about it, if you live in a place with no snow).

1. A-Roving on a Winter's Night -- Anne Hills, Cindy Mangsen, Priscilla Herdman -- Voices of Winter.
This is the most mournful of the songs, but it's so pretty. And winter does give us time to reflect and remember. It's by Doc Watson, but owes a lot to Robert Burns's My Luve Is Like a Red, Red Rose.

2. Bleak Midwinter Polka -- Trailer Trash -- Hell, It's X-Mas.
Trailer Trash is a Minneapolis bar band that I've never heard in person. In this song, written by their fiddle player "Razz" Russell, they have a good suggestion for what to do if and when winter gets you down (as it sometimes does in Minneapolis, that's why they say the polka "makes living in this hell worthwhile.")

3. Walkin' in My Winter Underwear -- Trailer Trash -- Hell, It's X-Mas.
Trailer Trash's almost unintelligible version of the song made famous by Yogi Yorgesson, Stan and Doug, and Casey the Railroad Engineer (a favorite of Twin Cities children's TV). I caught something about Lake Street and got the idea that the singer is quite positive about his winter underwear, unlike the earlier singers, who had the old, scratchy version. For one of the original versions by Casey,

4. Snow Day -- Trout Fishing in America -- Merry Fishes to All.
The duo Trout Fishing in America has a childlike point of view with some very grown-up abilities at songwriting. This song is about the joy of waking up to a snow day, with all normal activities put on hold and an unexpected chance to play.

5. Frosty the Snowman -- The Roches -- We Three Kings.
This classic is given a fresh interpretation by the three New Jersey sisters and some of their young relatives. It's lots of fun. Frosty was written by Walter "Jack" Rollins and Steve Nelson, who also wrote Peter Cottontail; and Jack Rollins wrote Smokey the Bear. It was, of course, first recorded by Gene Autry (when I was little, I wanted to marry him. I'd be a lot richer if I had!)

6. Bob and Bob -- Trout Fishing in America -- Merry Fishes to All.
The conceit in this song is that there are identical twin snowflakes named Bob and Bob, when of course we all know that no two snowflakes are alike. There's also some interesting information about snow here and there.

7. Hot Buttered Rum -- Anne Hills, Cindy Mangsen, Priscilla Herdman -- Voices of Winter.
A winter love song, with a somewhat jaundiced view of winter redeemed by the presence of a loved one. It was written by the late Tommy Thompson, founding member of the Red Clay Ramblers. You can go here to see some great illustrations of the song done by kids.

8. Winter Weather/I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm -- Tony Bennett -- Snowfall.
There are several other great winter songs on this album, too. These two, sung in a medley, both speak to the joys of snuggling in the cold weather. Winter Weather was written by Tin Pan Alley songwriter Ted Shapiro, who was active in the 1920s and wrote a lot of songs for Sophie Tucker, the Red Hot Mama. I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm was introduced in the film On the Avenue in 1937 and was written by Irving Berlin. Tony Bennett is a national treasure.

9. The Frozen Logger/Proper Cup of Coffee -- Anne Hills, Cindy Mangsen, Priscilla Herdman -- Voices of Winter.
The Frozen Logger was written in the 1920s by Jim Stevens, who also wrote (or wrote down) a lot of the Paul Bunyan stories. The Weavers found it and had a hit with it in 1951, and it's been recorded by Odetta and several others. Proper Cup of Coffee was originally (as far as I can tell) recorded by the Andrews Sisters (also from Minneapolis!) in the late 1950s, and has also been recorded by Trout Fishing in America. Although written by Emanuele Pellegrini and Aaron Gershunoff, it has become somewhat of a folk song with different singers coming up with new verses, as Hills, Mangsen and Herdman have done here. The tune is slightly different now too, or at least jazzed up quite a bit.

You may have noticed that three out of the nine tracks above are from the same album -- I highly recommend Voices of Winter as well as all the other discs these three women have recorded both together and individually.

A Real Maine Winter, at Last!

Here's one of the sights Rusty and I saw on our walk this afternoon. Today, machinery and trucks were everywhere carting away excess snow, so our sidewalks are now a bit more walkable. It has been almost Minnesota-cold the last couple of days, but I think it's warming up a bit now. I have always remembered that on the day I joined the Army, 29 January 1971, we had had my height in snow here (65 or 66 inches). The paper said the other day that indeed, our area has had the snowiest December since 1970. Life seems to go on much as usual, though, with only occasional closings and cancellations which are soon made up. Here is a picture of one of the ways we prepare for winter; my readers in Georgia and California have probably never seen such a thing. It is a fire hydrant with a metal flag on top so that it can be located in the deep snow. The Fire Department comes around in their chartreuse trucks and shovels out each fire hydrant by hand a day or so after the storm.

Pictures of snow for people who are lacking it

Here's the moon at 3:30 this afternoon.


Rusty is digging in the snow. He thinks he'll find a squirrel.
Some people don't have any snow! Some people don't have lions in front of their houses! Some people don't have a dog! Here are some photos for all those folks.


The lions are really covered in snow now. Rusty likes to climb the snowbanks.

Friday Five: Rejoice!

Mother Laura at RevGalBlogPals posted:

Can you believe that in two days we'll be halfway through Advent? Gaudete Sunday: pink candle on the advent wreath, rose vestments for those who have them, concerts and pageants in many congregations. Time to rejoice!

Rejoice in the nearness of Christ's coming, yes, but also in the many gifts of the pregnant waiting time when the world (in the northern hemisphere, at least) spins ever deeper into sweet, fertile darkness.

What makes you rejoice about:


1. Waiting?

I think that waiting is an indispensable part of our happiest times. With few exceptions, the coming of a child into our lives is preceded by a period of waiting, whether the nine months of a pregnancy or the sometimes much longer waiting period for an adoption. Sometimes that waiting is very hard, we want the child NOW. Yet, in addition to the practical reasons for the wait, there is a spiritual reason. Each child brings change into our lives and the waiting period gives us time to imagine how that change will affect our families. Yes, there are many sensible reasons for waiting.

There is also a dimension to waiting that is a bit harder to explain. There is the feeling of growing excitement that manifests as a feeling of fullness around the heart, which we usually manage to contain, but which occasionally causes us to break out in a shriek, a giggle, or a shiver of delighted expectation. That's the aspect of waiting that really makes me rejoice.

One of Sisterknits' and my favorite stories for this time of year is Karin's Christmas Walk by Susan Pearson. (It's out of print, but available in used bookstores and libraries, and worth the hunt.) In this simple story, a young girl, Karin, awaits the Christmas visit of her favorite uncle. There is uncertainty -- will he arrive in time, or at all? There is remembering, of the good times they have shared in the past, and of the stories of his and her mother's childhood. There is preparation: a trip to the store to pick up items her mother needs for the feast. There are distractions: neighbors to greet, new kittens at the neighborhood café. Finally, Karin arrives home and sees her uncle's truck in the driveway. She doesn't run into the house right away. Instead, she stops for a moment outside, peeking in through the window at her family. "For just one moment she thought, "Next is the very best, most wonderful time in the whole year." Then she opened the door." Karin understands the joy of waiting.

2. Darkness?
Living as I do on the eastern edge of the Eastern Time Zone, at latitude 43'9"N, I had better rejoice in darkness at this time of year. Sunset today is at 4:02 pm. By Solstice I'm sure it will be much closer to 3:30. Three or four of Rusty's daily walks take place in the dark.

I have to fight against a disinclination to stir out of the house after dark. It's probably an inheritance from centuries of New England (and Old Britain) ancestors who pretty much stayed in after the cows were milked in wintertime. But, that implicit permission to savor the comforts of home is part of what makes me rejoice in the dark. This is Dylan Thomas's "close and holy darkness" for me.

Thinking about darkness brings back a memory so strong I can almost see it. When I was back in Maine my last year of high school, I would often walk down the road to spend the evening with my grandmother -- drinking tea boiled in an old coffeepot on the wood stove, discussing books, or just companionably reading our separate books together. Eventually would come the time to go home to bed. There were no other houses between my grandparents' and ours, and there was a part of the road where I couldn't see the lights of home ahead. On a clear winter's night, I would be surrounded by white snowfields giving way to dark woods, with a huge dark sky overhead, filled with stars. There was a certain existential terror in this experience -- although I knew and felt no fear of any human or animal assailant, yet I shivered and quickened my steps to escape this place where I felt small and alone. But -- when I want to capture the true meaning of awe -- what I use is the memory of those starlit walks up the Millay Road.

3. Winter?

As I am someone who has chosen to retire to a state with "nine months of winter and three months of damn' poor sleddin'," (after living 30+ years in a place with even harsher winters), it is no surprise that I rejoice in winter. Yes, even now, when I have to put on my heavy boots, coat, scarf, hat and mittens several times a day just to walk the dog. This year we have been having a more normal Maine winter than recently, with plenty of snow and more to come. It's so beautiful. I've never been much of a winter sportsperson (or summer, fall or spring sportsperson for that matter) although I did my share of sliding as a child, and also enjoyed just observing winter's changes -- I remember one year in Connecticut when it was cold enough that the salt water of Long Island Sound froze several feet out from shore and how fascinating that was. Walking through a gentle snowfall, waking up to a world covered in sparkling white -- these parts of winter are easy to rejoice in. But also to rejoice in is the feeling of at last reaching your house when you've been struggling home through a blizzard, and the joy of getting warm after feeling you would never be warm again. So, Southern folks, don't feel too sorry for us Northerners. We have our compensations.

Of course I could not write a whole blog post without being reminded of a song. This one I have known for a long time but had forgotten until today because I no longer have my old vinyl albums. Judy Collins sang it on one of her early records, and I don't know who wrote it. It's a good Advent song: "Out Under the Winter Sky...I feel like something's being born, Tells my soul not to mourn."

4. Advent?

It's hard to imagine Christmas without Advent now, although as a child I don't think I knew much about it. Although I vow every year to do Christmas preparations throughout the year, that usually doesn't happen. This year, a combination of poorly-timed head colds, a husband rehearsing seemingly non-stop for three theatrical performances, and my old procrastination problem, has put me behind. Thus, this Advent has not been as peaceful and reflective a time as I would wish. (And I have no church responsibilities!) I appreciate the chance to blog and especially the Friday Fives for prompting some reflection at least once a week.

5. Jesus' coming?

Hmmm. In the eschatological sense? I don't think about it much. Of course, we celebrate Jesus' coming at Christmas each year, but I rejoice in it each day of the year that I see evidence of the Kingdom of God in the good and charitable actions, large and small, that people of all faiths (and no faith) daily perform. Bad news sells, but the Good News is there too if we remember to look for it. I think my dear husband said it well in one of his Christmas carols:

Our Christmas trip's within us,
Here is the end and start,
For Bethlehem is found in
Each kind and humble heart.