Bare-knuckle Snow-blowing

Bare-knuckle Snow-blowing 

By John R. Greenwood 

It’s a good day when you can snow blow your driveway with bare knuckles. There is a huge discrepancy between snow-blowing on November 24th and snow-blowing on March 24th. Knowing there is green grass in your near future feels good. The attitude gap is immeasurable. If it wasn’t for the half-dozen Amazon packages headed our way I might have left the snow to fend for itself. There is nothing more rewarding than clearing snow when the thermometer is hovering in the forties and the lawn was already raked and fertilized the week before. Knowing its Toro’s last hurrah puts a smile on your face and a skip in your boots. It did give me a chance to thank Old Faithful for getting me through the winter without a hitch. 

In my last post I vowed to stay positive and productive while this virus turns our lives upside down. My wife and I are doing our part to keep ourselves healthy and safe. We’re not ready to be sacrificed to keep stock earnings healthier. 

With that thought I’m going to make an effort to pump a little life into Raining Iguanas. I owe it to all those who have supported the blog and encouraged me to continue writing. Life got real over the last several months and priorities sometimes require recalibration. 

Yesterday while I was pretending to dig out from a pretend blizzard I snapped a few pictures to help get my mojo back. If you haven’t visited here in a while I want to thank you for stopping by. 

ALREADY!

Frozen Tundra 

Dazed and Confused 

Snow Bunnies

Table Talk Pie 

Be Kind.
We're All In This Together

Self Portrait In Snow

Self Portrait In Snow

By John R. Greenwood

"Winter's after dinner gift"

"My four season maple friend opens his arms and welcomes the night" 

"Christmas lights linger on, their day has come and gone" 

"White knight with shining armor" 

"Basket of Cheer" 

"The Green Lantern" 

"Peace Treaty" 

A days worth of light snow provided me with an after dinner treat. 

There's something soothing about snowblowing at night with the garage lights illuminating the yard 

and the soul. 

Mother Opened The Door

Mother Opened The Door
By John R. Greenwood

Mother opened the door and let me back in the house today. I felt like she'd abandoned me. I know she has a job to do. She can't kowtow to every special request for a sunny Fourth Of July or snowy Christmas Eve. She doesn't work on commission or by the hour--she operates on mother's instinct. Just when we think she going to go soft on us she shifts gears and hits us with an Arctic winter. No amount of planning can out guess the queen of deception. 

I'd almost given up hope of ever seeing that snow pile disappear from the foundation of the house. But, maybe out of pity, or maybe lack of refrigeration the old girl let the sun come out to play with us and turned everyone's cold frown upside down. Maybe she did do it on purpose? We get spoiled easily and have a tendency to take our mothers for granted. This might have been a subtle way of reminding us how much of an impact a mother can have on us. 

I am certain of one thing; how much I needed a leaf rake in my hand instead of a snow shovel. Oh, it won't take long for us to start complaining about high humidity and tall grass, but personally, I will tread lightly. 

I felt so much better today. I saw moving water instead of frozen water. Birds were singing instead of stuffing their beaks with sunflower seeds. Squirrels had a chance to chat with each other about Jordan Spieth winning the Masters instead of worrying about filling the pantry with acorns. I could hear the little boys across the street pretending to be superheroes instead of cringing to the sound of a behemoth snowplow scraping the blacktop and sending slush flying into the side of my mailbox. 

It was a good day, a spring Sunday brimming with optimism and a light wind of better temps ahead. 

Maybe better times too? 

Winter's Grip

Winter's Grip
By John R. Greenwood

Winter has always been a nostalgic season for me. I guess with the tradition of families gathering for Christmas celebrations it probably is that way for many people. I tend to think it has more to do with how close to the surface our emotions are when temperatures drop. The 1960's created many memories that are deeply ingrained in my mind. Growing up in two homes where the bedroom's only heat came from a 16" square register in the floor will insure that the cold is a primary actor in those recollections. From ages one to nine our home was heated with a kerosene stove about the size of one of those large console tv's of the 70's and 80's. My father would have to get up once in the middle of the night to fill the round cylindrical tank that attached in the back. He would have to go out into the back shed where a larger tank was and with a few turns of the cold metal handle top off the portable one. My room was as far away from the heat source as you could get in that house. My bed was heaped with quilts of all designs and thicknesses. I can recall frozen linoleum floors and cotton slippers, ice caked windows and creaking walls, but I can not recall ever being cold. 

The next house we lived in consumed the years between ten and eighteen. My room was again upstairs but this one had an upgrade to the heating system. It was a real furnace that only broke down on occasion. The only heat in my room was provided by another register. Cold linoleum, uninsulated walls, and thin single pane windows were great emphasizers of frigid temperatures but this time I had modern technology on my team. Sunbeams greatest invention of all time the electric blanket was my new best friend in the winter. I would run up stairs during commercials and turn it on so that when my show was over and it was time for bed I could jump under the preheated covers. Mornings tested you. It was a challenge to get out of bed when it could be so cold your breath looked like a little chimney coming from a crack between the blanket and the pillow. One morning as I jumped into my slippers to make a dash for the stairs a mouse jumped out from one of them. He was doing the same as I was only I don't think he had to catch a bus. What strikes me as funny is, other than the normal childhood illnesses I very seldom missed any school. I don't remember having many colds or ear aches. I would not want to go back to those days but it is funny how we survived intact knowing the luxuries we enjoy today. There were many I'm sure that would have considered the conditions I grew up as luxurious. I loved the winter. I enjoyed skiing, sledding and major snow-fort building, so when the temperatures dip and the snow begins to pile up I don't long for the good old days too much but I am thankful for having experienced a wide range of what the winter has to offer. I have come to appreciate the warmth and efficiency of a natural gas furnace and a digital thermostat. This morning as I listen to the wind howling, knowing that the wind chills are lower than ugly, I long for the times when the mouse and I didn't know any better.  

Good Night Irene

Good Night Irene

By John R. Greenwood

She’s a bitch

A full-throttle

Foul-mouthed

Rain-coated bitch

She hates everyone

She has no favorites

She’ll wipe the smile from your face

Coasting upward 

Only power-line sparks,

Wet cuffs,

Broken limbs, and 
Dead flashlight batteries

Make her smile

She simply 

Doesn’t care

Fox News still loves her

State Farm pencils snap under her pressure

Sand bags tickle her ankles

Oh, the National Guard?

A mere poke in her side

Round and round she goes

Where she stops?

*Hurricane Irene August 2011

This post is a sprig of gentle humor in times of quiet consternation. 
It is not meant to diminish the concern we all have for those whose lives will be affected by this catastrophic storm.