THUWMP! The whole house shakes with the force of the impact. It warmed up today, and the snow is slowly sliding off the roof as a long think ice slab which randomly breaks off in giant chunks that fall and hit the foundation. The low toned thuwmp is often preceded by a muted scraping sound as part of the snow pack breaks loose and skids off the metal roof. All this excitement has the cats somewhat freaked out. Every time a piece of ice falls, they run around trying to figure out what is causing all the commotion in their normally calm environment. The biggest cat is the most afraid; he just hides under the sofa and won’t come out until the ice chunks freeze back into place later this evening when the temperature drops (or when ever he gets hungry). Some day I’ll sit at the window and actually see some of it fall.
Another thaw, warmer than freezing air, snow melting into the frozen ground. I sit on the porch bundled in a rocker, pink cast in a black sling, holding my wrist above the level of my heart. I am still in a state of mental shock and disbelief of what I did to myself. The broken bone radiates a constant feverish pain in my wrist, and the cast is an annoying irritation along my whole lower arm. And now I am worrying about all the radiation my I will be subject to in the next few weeks. Ugh!
I came outside to sit, breath the cold fresh air, clear my head, and try to relax; I am screaming and crying inside my head, heart pounding, pulse fast and throbbing. I wish this panic would dissipate, melt away like the snow. I notice the icicles along the porch roof, glistening in their winter wetness, shimmering in the blue grey half light of an overcast day, and dripping. The tiny water droplets sliding down the rippled icicle, growing at its point until gravity is stringer than cohesion and they fall away to join all the the other water molecules melting into slush on the ground. I zoom in, focus my attention onto the dripping icicles and space out on the rhythmic dripping as the drops hit the snow puddles below. I sit and rock and watch the ice melt for a long time, until I get cold. I think the sun is setting as the grey day has shifted to a darker grey and the temperature is starting to drop again. Calmer and cooler, I head back into the house to sit in front of the fire to warm up. All that water, dripping through my soul, washing the furies away.
It was an unseasonable warm day today: short sleeves, no hats, sunshine, snow melting, sap running. I know this is only a false start to Spring, but I always enjoy the warmth to its fullest! When I get home from work, the jeans come off replaced by a short skirt, and a tank top replaces the long sleeve shirt. I took off my shoes and dug out some flip flops, then found a book and my reading sunglasses. Poured myself a tall glass of ice tea, then went out onto the porch, pulled a rocker forward to the rail to be in the sun, sat down, and Relaxed! Book in hand, glasses propped up my head, ( I didn’t think I was actually going to read the book, too excited), feet on the railing pushing the rocker gently back and forth, head back against the cushion, eyes closed, soaking in the sunlight like a sponge, singing to myself “making vitamin D, do do do”. Every inch of exposed sun warmed skin vibrates with anticipation of real Spring. My private inner imagination movie is playing endless clips of amazing whitewater footage (of course I am the hero raft guide who saves the day) as I listen to the swollen creek roar down the hill. My soul’s battery pack is recharging with this glorious solar energy. Deep breath, taste and smell of wet thawing snow and earth, hear the drip, drip, dripping off the roof, feel the warn air caress my skin and the radiant rays tingle my face, blinding white sunlight dazzling my eyes. Spring is almost here!
Walking down the hill to my car after work, along the catwalk next to the conveyor lift, sun shining brightly from a clear blue sky, glaring blindingly off the white snow. Glance over toward the wooden handrail along the catwalk, several inches of snow piled on top. I notice there is a layer of ice under the snow dripping down the edge, glistening in the sunlight. Stop to take a closer look, it’s a rippled curtain of ice all along the edge of the handrail, as if the melting snow was trying to form icicles, but instead of independent stalactites of ice, it is an undulating sheath, a bumpy, rumpled conglomerate of hundreds of icicles formed side by side so as to make a continuous ice wall 4 inches tall under the hand rail. I reach out and touch it, slick, cold, wet, and sinuous. Amazing what curious configurations water can dream up!