ON THE VERGE OF RAIN
HOLED-UP PLEASANTLY AT BIRCH HOLLOW THIS MORNING, PURRING CAT IN LAP
IT IS A DAMP, DULL, POTENTIALLY RAIN-FILLED DAY, STILL MORE LIKE EARLY MARCH, THAN MID-JANUARY. A NEW YEAR. A STRANGE LULL IN THE NORMAL WINTER FARE, FOR OUR REGION, WHICH BY NOW WOULD, SHOULD BE COLD, SNOW-BURDENED, AND DANGEROUSLY WINDSWEPT WITH A TWANG OF BITTER COLD. IT IS A SMALL ACT OF NATURE'S MERCY, BECAUSE EVERYTHING, EVERY BODY, EVERY AUTOMOBILE, HOUSE, BUILDING AND WATERLINE IS SUSCEPTIBLE WHEN THE TEMPERATURES DIP DANGEROUSLY DURING THE WINTER MONTHS. HAVING EXPERIENCED THE HORROR OF FROZEN WATERLINES AND SEPTIC SYSTEM, IN THE PAST, I TAKE PRECAUTIONS VERY SERIOUSLY HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW. THERE'S NOTHING SO DAMNING AS AN EXCAVATION IN THE MIDST OF CANADIAN WINTER. MY BIGGEST CONCERN NOW IS THAT WE'LL GET HIT WITH A SUDDEN COLD SNAP, THAT WITHOUT ADEQUATE SNOW COVER AS INSULATION, MIGHT JUST FREEZE DOWN INTO THOSE VULNERABLE WATERLINES IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD. I'VE SEEN IT HAPPEN BEFORE IN THE REGION, WHERE WHOLE STREETS WERE AFFECTED. SNOW COVER IS A PRETTY GOOD INSULATOR. WE DON'T HAVE AN ADEQUATE LAYER, AT THIS POINT, AND IT WOULD BE GREAT TO RECEIVE SNOW THIS WEEK, JUST AS INSURANCE.
I have just taken off my shoes, and jacket, and have found this chair as desk-side still warm from the two cats that were sleeping upon the cushion. I don't mind. It looks to be a quiet day, working in this office, overlooking The Bog. There will be few serious or lengthy distractions, except if some travelers should choose today to visit, or one of my colleagues decides to phone. Other than this, I will be able to work away for most of the day, until I pick Suzanne up after school. She's a teacher. She's quite envious that I can sit and look out this window all day, sipping tea, making copious notes about things I see, and being cuddled by these animals that call Birch Hollow home. There is always cat nearby. Chutney, the runt of the litter (that a stray gave birth to, in our garden shed, of all places), is still a very small, thin critter, that needs almost constant affection, and a warm lap to curl up in. I'm her possession during the day, until Suzanne comes home. We literally can't sit down, except by excluding all cats, that Chutney, at least, doesn't jump up, and "nest" as if this is our mortal purpose on earth. I don't really mind, and I find the purring very calming. The problem is, and it's the one reason I won't listen to music while I write…….that Chutney's little bodily noises and warmth start making me feel tired when I'm not. She can put me to sleep while hunched over the keyboard. I'll sit back, close my eyes to refresh, from the work at hand, and then wake myself up, with my head snapping onto the chair-back. I'm all for being calm but Chutney makes it too easy to relax, at a time I need to be a little keyed-up in order to produce editorial copy. I sometimes will shut the basement door to stop her intrusion, especially if I'm facing some quickly approaching deadline. If I'm just working on a little landscape piece, I don't mind her presence, or the others, that like to sit on the window ledge to watch the squirrels, and birds flitting from branch to branch in the lilacs. I find this scene outdoors today, to be amazingly satisfying, and generously gentle……and regardless if the rest of January turns out to be a horror-unfolding, this respite has been welcome. Despite what it isn't offering today, in the dramatic clime of Canadian winter, it is offering me an opportunity to exploit its solitude and calm, and so I shall.
The story here today, is the apprehension of the penalty we will pay, for having this kindly weather, for so long into the winter season. Oldtimers will claim, that when a winter starts as late as mid-January, it will be bestial as comeuppance. I have seen and experienced this before, so it is not far fetched. It is tradition, generally accepted by most Muskokans who know anything about nature, and the outdoors, that winter may be postponed but never cancelled. History has it that winter can snap to attack, as the cobra, and sting when our defenses are the weakest. We must stay strong, to face this eventuality. Be strong for storm and snow, and deep, deep cold. I must stay awake, but I sense it to be a losing battle, as Chutney has snuck through into my room, and commenced purring upon my lap. What failure is this……the writer being tamed by a cat. The runt of the litter. But what power she possesses, to change a story line, influence an editorial……..when no publisher ever could. This tiny beast is a good friend……that asks so little in return for a little comfort zone.
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