One cannot discount, or even underestimate the welcome respite of winter. We refer to it as the January thaw, as if its right there in the Webster’s Dictionary.
With no meteorological skills, and barely a basic understanding of science in general, there is typically a February thaw, too.
God knows how much you can handle; I believe that.
So it is with a rested soul that I share this morning that wading into the next part of our winter will be easier, for I am running on the adrenaline fueled recharging that several forty degree days installed in my core control unit.
It came with some ice, but followed-up with a warm milk chaser; an option that we had no choice but to select.
Icy mixes, with rain, sleet, some snow, and crusty surfaces, with intermittent rising temperatures doesn’t relieve you of clean-up duties. You have to get rid of some of it. You must get out there and scrape off the brunt of the crust if you want to walk unimpeded by God’s frosting for a couple of days.
In my former life, as a full-time working man, I would trust the warm days to remove icy mixes. By the time I got home from work after a thirty-nine degree day, the darkness and lack of sun for a few hours made scraping almost impossible and you hoped for just one more warm, sunny day to finish it off. Sometimes, it happened.
As an official retiree, still having no inclination to join AARP, I see the windows of upcoming scraping opportunities, and I make sure I am available for the dance. This period, a transition from believing I am young to realizing that I am not, I understand why all the “old guys” I knew over the years loved to watch the weather. I don’t love it, but I do pay attention to it more than I like to admit.
It’s been nice. Sure, the driveway has slippery moments, but I’ve fought a good fight. For the most part, there are clear, tractioned areas where a man can walk without holding his arms out for balance or for catching himself because the next fall is imminent.
I write today, not to complain, but to revel in these days. I want to say that a couple of days of forty degrees after multiple either below or too near zero to specify, make a man take deeper breaths, stick out his chest, and plod on into the weeks ahead with more vigor. I like that. It was similar to a mini vacation to somwhere that you are required to wear shorts, and some Mainers did—probably younger humans, and done to upset their mothers.
I did not. I dress remarkably the same year round. It’s easier. Jeans, boots, something plaid, sometimes fluffy and warm, and sometimes all-cotton and light.
I am a simple man, but I wanted to give a shout out to the thaws fore and aft of today’s date.
I appreciate the incredibly simple nuances of my life. I simply wanted to point it out.
Happy Sunday.
From the Jagged Edge of America, with about one quarter inch of fresh snow on the ground from an overnight squall, I remain,
TC