First Snow
We had to have two of our heating/cooling units and a condenser outdoors removed and replaced with new ones this week [$$$$$]. That condenser controls the living room and my office, both of which are in constant use during the day and in the case of the living room, in the evening until we go to bed. They did the work in two days, very efficiently, but in order to be safe, I had to hide in Woody’s man cave with Mingus, who did not like to be locked up any more than I did. I tried to work there but couldn’t.
When the men arrived, Willow fled into her condo in the wall of the storage room. However, for the first time ever, Schwartzie joined her, blocking her in. He came down the moment the men left @ 4:45, but Willow did not emerge until 8 pm and even then, for an hour, she crept around nervously. Schwartzie has been bullying her some since then. I am worried about her, as she is anxious all the time now. I have to figure out how to get her confidence back.
After a rather slow time earlier in December, I’m pretty busy now. Dale’s partner Stephen had a hip replaced and Dale was caring for him, as work piled up. The post office is so broken now as Trump intended [of course he doesn’t use a post office] that two of the gifts I ordered weeks ago, never came. They’ll probably arrive in February, the way things are going.
On Tuesday after a mild weekend, the temperature went down to 25 – the coldest it’s been yet this year. Wednesday night into Thursday, we got about an inch and a half of snow. It turned to rain after that, although much of Massachusetts got at least a foot. Even parts of the Cape got hammered. The winds went gusty, but we never lost power. I spoke with Melenie Thursday and she said they had a foot already and it was still snowing in Easthampton.
I have been reading an interesting novel, V by Anna Solomon. It’s a fugue on the Esther story, three different Vashti’s and three different Esther’s at different points in time, all interwoven. I find it fascinating. I’m also reading an anthology of Native American poetry edited, created by my friend Joy Harjo. Varied, deep, moving. I just finished Charles Coe’s new volume of poetry from Leapfrog Press, MEMENTO. It reminded me of my own recent book because Charles too is contemplating his aging body, losing of people he loved, the approach of death. Charles always writes with solid empathy and a clear strong voice.
Tomorrow we’ll start off with the zucchini soup I froze in July. It struck me as strange to be eating zucchini in August, so much so, I wrote a poem about it. A taste of summer in December is both a signal the year will roll on and summer come again. Of course, if you buy all your vegetables in the supermarket where everything is shipped in from Latin American or beyond, the seasonal nature of vegetables is hardly relevant or even noticeable. We are the last of our leeks this week and had the very last salad. Now we’re onto our frozen veggies, starting with both beans and spinach.