Saturday, December 27, 2008

Snow, Snow, Go Away

Yes, yes, it was a lovely sight. One should have the privilege of seeing this at least once every five years. Seven or eight years would be better.

It's been heralded as the biggest dump of snow in the area since sometime in the sixties.
I believe it, though I've lived here only since 1980.

The solid flaky sort of rain first hit the ground December 17th. After one or two clear but icy cold days it began to fall in earnest on the 22nd. And it fell, and fell, and caused incredible hardship for people counting on all forms of transportation.

Truly, people here don't like/fear/can't/refuse to drive when it snows. Warnings not to drive blared across the airwaves.

Because of bad road conditions on Christmas Eve, we delayed the stuffed bird meal until the 28th. (It was just as good.)

It's warmed up (but only slightly) and rained (a lot). But dang it, the snow has not disappeared.
And today -- horrors -- it snowed a bit at noon, dancing, swirling fluffs that seemed to smugly leer, "You ain't done with us, yet!"

I say enough! We've had our fun, and our White Christmas.

This makes me wonder why people dream of a white Christmas. What's the big attraction? I think we've been brainwashed since that song came out to believe snow at Christmas = perfection.
No, snow just causes messy trouble and means that it's cold.

Front of my house

My nostalgic inner child remembers sledding, building snowmen, having snowball fights, dressing in twenty layers of clothing (ugh). My inner artist sees the beauty in dark pines and cedars webbed with white, branches bending low beneath the weight...

What am I saying--during such delightful events the power could go out at any time!


Sunday, December 14, 2008

Merry Christmas

My favorite Christmas song - O Holy Night, performed by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

(no longer available)

My thoughts exactly:

-- Cat

Friday, October 10, 2008


Il Divo --

Operatic pop quartet. Interesting Wikipedia info here

I love the way they blend their voices and the wonderful songs they sing.

This is my favorite, done up in a pretty collage:


Thursday, October 02, 2008

Oct 3 - In Memoriam - Kevan F Hartwell

Remembering my father:

Kevan F Hartwell Dec 21, 1920 - Oct 3, 2001

He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us,
more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Always remembered, always loved--
--the Family


Sunday, June 08, 2008

The Birds and the Bees

The bird ---

Who needed a place to build a nest. She found a lovely, flowery spot --

And proceeded to build her nest inside --

In due time two speckled eggs appeared --

~Updates to come

The bee --

The flowers and the trees --

And the moon up above --

Hmm, sounds like a song doesn't it?

I'll stop here. The rest is up to you.


Friday, March 28, 2008

The River God

It snowed today. Snowed!

On unseasonably cold days like today I'm reminded wistfully of the time two summers ago when I saw the River God in the (total) flesh.

Nikomekl River

There's a shortcut we take driving home over a one way bridge on the Nikomekl River, a placid little stream that flows to the sea. As this is in a tidal area, the bridge is part dam, opening and closing for flood control and to allow fish to travel up and downstream.

Until that particular day we had seen only the odd seal swimming in the lower part. One warm evening when the sun was low in the western sky, we were halfway across the bridge when "he" unexpectedly appeared.

First there were hands on the concrete wall that served as a railing. Then arms, a head, dark hair streaming rivulets of water. His muscles strained as he pulled himself up to the top of the rail. And there he stood in all his brazen glory, a handsome Adonis maybe in his mid-twenties, shaking water droplets from his hair and body, laughing, as gods might, at the stupefied expressions on the mortals' faces.

We did not stop--there were cars before and behind ours--but I can still hear the laughter floating in the golden air, both his and a split-second later that of all who'd been startled by this apparition.

Yeah, yeah, it was probably like my husband said, buff young guys playing a prank, or carrying out a dare.

I prefer to believe I saw the River God.


Friday, March 07, 2008


Kitaro - Japanese born "New Age" composer/musician

Love this music. I was listening to an internet radio station and was reminded of how marvelously grand Kitaro sounds.


Friday, February 08, 2008

Sign of the Times

Overheard at a supermarket check-out:

Cashier, handing customer his purchases in a plastic bag: "This is the last month you'll get one of these in plastic. Next month we're going back to paper bags."

Customer, distressed: "What am I going to use for the garbage?"

Cashier, with a sigh: "It's a problem, isn't it?"

Cat, to herself: It's really true--what goes around, comes around. I remember the switch from paper to plastic. At first we had a choice. We chose paper, for the very reason the bags fit nicely into the kitchen garbage container--the plastic ones just flopped there. Soon, though, there was no longer a choice. So we adapted. Isn't that the great strength of mankind--our ability to adapt?

Yes, this too shall pass. "This" being the temporary inconvenience of learning to love paper garbage bags.

The secret is don't throw anything wet into them.


Thursday, January 24, 2008

Sucker for a French Accent

I called the bank the other night because I couldn't reach their online site. I patiently went through five minutes of "press one for English...etc." tripe, and sat for nearly twenty minutes with phone to ear, for if I were to hang up I'd lose my place in the queue and need to start over. Who wants to do that?

Finally a voice came on the line. Imagine my surprise to hear a lovely male accent that was not from some third world country, but Canadian, likely Quebecois.

I could have spent a lot more time listening to that fine voice, but alas, the problem was quickly fixed, the call was at an end.

After I gave my thanks, I blurted, somewhat foolishly in hindsight, "I like your accent."

To which he replied, in true Gallic fashion, "I like yours, too."

He was only being polite, I know.

Because I do not have an accent.