Hints of gold and persimmon touch rapidly moving clouds as the sun rises very slowly from behind the snow covered hillside. Soon bright sunlight melts ice patterns from my windows. Clear blue sky – only a cloud here and there. Canada Geese pass in formation overhead. A Bald Eagle Soars on some thermal, drifting slowly above the house. I stand at the skylight watching him until he drifts out of sight over the hills.
When I think of blue sky and clear sunny days the first images and words that come to mind are all of warmth and relaxation but today is frigid and brisk – sharp penetrating winds push and bite when I venture to even stick my head out the door.
All through the woods and clearing different objects capture the sun’s light --- ice on trees, snow hoods on bird feeders, something on the ground… the wind sets them into motion and light beams dance through the loft. Even the metal trim on my pencil sends circles of light moving across the page and up to the ceiling. Bouncing, swaying moving with every letter I write.
Looking up from my writing I discover the Carolina Wren is back today. I watched as he hopped from tree to tree in the side yard, finally alighting on the witch hazel. Moving cautiously to the birdhouse hanging in its barren branches, he poked his head inside, pulled out some bits and pieces --- a little grass, some fluff that could have been some feathers. Eventually he popped through the opening. Then he reappeared and dropped more debris from the open entry. I wonder if this is just a house inspection or if he is planning to move in.
I have been reading all the news about global warming and the comments on the blogs about ways to make a minute contribution…We have the thermostat set low – this is to keep the loft, where I spend most of my time, at a comfortable temperature. So much of the heat rises that it is difficult to find a good balance. Either I have to put on summer clothing when I go up to the loft or the living room and bedroom are so cold I have to grab a coat to stay in them for more than a passing moment… Have to find a solution…
I found a way to put a lot of plastic grocery bags to good use. (They have been filling up a shelf, which I would rather use for storage) Today I took a good portion of them to stuff into tiny cracks along the doors. After folding the bags into quarters lengthwise – I used a table knife to stuff the bags into any crack around the door. Some of the doors are tight. I could only slip the knife into part of the cracks - but any crack at all is letting cold air in today. The back door has a bit larger space and it took fourteen bags to fill all of its cracks.
It is a bit warmer downstairs now but I still put a heating pad into my bed – turned it on about half an hour before I was ready for bed - Toasty!
Chill wind – moon is partly hidden by the clouds as it makes its journey through the sky. All this day I spend much of my time very aware of the weather. I check the thermometers, watch the sun and clouds the ice and snow, and listen to the wind banging the feeders against the house as I turn to sleep.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born on February 27, 1807, in Portland, Maine. His father, Stephen Longfellow, was a Portland lawyer and congressman, and mother Zilpah, was a descendant of John Alden of the Mayflower. Longfellow was fond of reading and at thirteen he wrote his first poem, "The Battle of Lovell's Pond," which appeared in the Portland Gazette.
