I was waiting for snow, the last time I wrote . . . I still am! There were a few snow showers, last weekend, certainly nothing to brag about. Now, a winter storm is forecasted this weekend. Everything here is closed. We are all waiting for snow and ice. Snow is welcome -but ice with all of its’ beauty is known to break old trees and hinder power. We are as unequipped as ever, in the south and so we all stay home. Only those who must, go out. Our emergency heroes, first responders, linemen and other such noble servants, brave these unfamiliar elements so the rest of us are safe and warm.
When the forecast first hinted at inclement weather, I turned my thoughts to my usual agenda for such occasions-food and books and writing-maybe an old movie or two. We are supposed to have this thing upon us for several days. I made haste to get to the grocery store, as I knew full well, pickings would soon be slim. The stores are never at full capacity these days, storm or not. I did find what I needed to make crepes and pizza. Most things needed were already in stock in the little house on Bonnet Street, for I am likely to make anything, anytime.
Jenny had a birthday on Thursday. I used to call her “my little snowbird”, for it was likely to snow on her birthday, the few years that we get snow. Today is further proof of that.
What a treasure, my only daughter is. She was born with the heart of a mother-and a quick mind. These traits show up now, for she takes care of all of us. Jenny pays keen attention to our needs-and acts on it. If I need advice, I go to Jenny, for she has an understanding of my heart, second only to God, I think. I believe her brothers would say the same thing.
Now, Jenny is a mother-of two little girls. She is a sensible and loving mother. The “extra mile” does not intimidate our Jenny and so she knows it by heart. Of all the things that a daughter can accomplish, being a good mother “takes the cake” to me. What could matter more, after all?
I went over the day of her birth, all day yesterday. How clearly I remember the details. Some memories are recalled with precision, even after decades. I had another name picked out for the baby-two in fact for in those days, we did not know if the baby would be a boy or a girl. You had to be prepared for both. The name that I had chosen, for a little girl, was only loved by me. Her father accepted it, but I didn’t think he was so fond of it, either. When I looked at this bundle of wonder I abandoned my first choice. I decided that she looked like a “Jenny” and so she was named in that way. I remember rocking her, by the woodstove, those first days home and neighbors coming in, full of excitement. . .to see our Jenny. Now, here I sit waiting for snow, just as I did on her first birthday, all those moons ago.
While I waited, a pot of soup simmered. I was constantly looking out the window to see if snow was falling from that silver sky. It was about thirty degrees, not counting the wind chill. I have only seen snow falling a very few times, in my life, for it usually falls at night, here-if at all.
When the silver sky, grayed, sleet started. It made a tinging sound on the tin roof. We ate soup and then had a dessert of pancakes with fried apples and caramel sauce and whipped cream. I went to bed soon after . . .still waiting for snow. Kyle woke me at some odd early hour to say, it was at last snowing.
I got up before dawn to a beautiful winter scene. I think we had about four icy inches. My first thought was of the little grandchildren. Lyla has been wishing for snow for two years. Brynn does not remember snow, as she is just three. Ryan saw snow falling last weekend, but has never walked in it or really touched it! I am sure though, that this morning, all are building a snowman and maybe Ryan-a snow fort-knowing Brant.
I am not sure how icy the snow is, for I have been drinking coffee by a window. While, I was gazing out at Bonnet street in winter, a little bird flew up to say good morning. I had never seen his kind. He was gray on the back with a bright yellow stripe on either side of his breast. We stared at one another in a friendly way for a few moments and then he flew off, as if he had an appointment. Straight away, I sought to identify the lovely creature. He was a Myrtle warbler, it turns out, and he is welcomed back anytime.
Now today, the crepes are on the menu-and Kyle wants brownies. Christian chose the supper. Until further notice, I will be reading or making snow lanterns, writing or in the kitchen . . .and every time I glance out the window, I will keep my pealed on the silent beauty of a snowfall . . .and for my new feathered friend.