Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Living Seasonally

In the 13 years I lived in NYC, I barely noted the passage of seasons in my everyday life. I put on boots when it snowed; I took my winter coat to the dry cleaner's in springtime. Nowadays, I'm tied to the seasons. I know winter's coming because I have to bring in wood every day and keep the fire stoked. Paul put up the clothesline of bird feeders across the side lawn; I got my snow tires put on. The chickens aren't laying as often. Turkeys march across the back yard every morning. I dug up and replanted the wayward bulbs from down the driveway so they'd get in before the ground got hard. I ordered the 750+ gallons of oil we needed to refill the multiple tanks in the basement. Paul drove the lawn tractor around to our garage on Goodband Road and got the patio furniture ready to go. We're stocked with staples, and our generator works. As I write, it's just starting to snow. I guess we're ready. . . .

3 comments:

HP said...

Ah, but isn't the view in the winter just glorious! The fall is more beautiful and anywhere else in the county.

I know it is kind of like "roughing it", but in other ways it feels like it's really living!

Mt.Pleasant life is really growing on me! :)

Now, time to get the fire going....

stoat said...

Country Dog,
While you were replanting wayward jonquils, we were fending off fisticuffs between two scavenging neighbors who were both eager to collect the remains of a large tree in our front yard that the Dutchess County vigilantes cut down yesterday (at 6:00 am). Each knocked at our door (at 6:30), asked for the fallen timber, and was promised it--provided that he brought a chain saw and took everything. Of course, we have now alienated both parties, and we still have a huge, mouldering trunk in front of our house. So, enough with the bucolic rhapsodies on the splendors of rural life--we know that country folk are ruthlessly predatory, and they prepare for the winter by collecting timber, not by transplating bulbs!
yr faithful Stoat

KAZ said...

Well, I do still remember the time Paul was shot out of his treestand by a similarly predatory invader--most people ask to use the land (and are turned away), but some just appear (and are chased away). And we did gather our own timber, too. He dragged and cut up dead trees, and I wheelbarrowed and stacked them. It's all part of the bucolic existence.