Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Tag Archives: yard


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Snow day

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You know the mid-winter dark evenings when you stay awake to watch the eleven o’clock news just to see what the weather will be for your morning commute? And you know it’s going to be snowing all night and into that commute. And you can’t sleep because you know you have to get up early, maybe shovel the driveway, and start the commute early, very early, in order to make sure you get to work on time. And that the commute is going to be terrible; slippery with poor visibility and indiscernible lane markings.

Yea. I remember those.

But one of the many joys of being retired is that you can go to bed early, even on snowy nights. (Oh who am I kidding, 9 p.m. is my normal go to bed time.) You can sleep soundly without a worry. You can wake up when you wake up and look out the window to see how much snow fell because you’re curious, not because you’re worried.

And then you can do this.

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I know. I’m lucky.

I'm lucky too mama.

I’m lucky too mama.


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A New Year Begins

It’s 4:30 a.m. and Katie the dog wants to go out. Just like every morning, her timing is meticulously accurate. I shake the sleep from my eyes as she shakes the tags on her collar and together we stumble to the front door where she prances impatiently as I don shoes and coat and gloves.

And then we step out into the blackness that is early morning.

Deep silence surrounds us. No cars out on the freeway, no stirring in the neighborhood. Only the far away wail of a train intrudes on the thick blanket of quiet. I whisper to her, unwilling to pierce the silence myself, to find a good spot as we wander the yard.

Almost directly overhead is the big dipper, sitting upside down, spilling good wishes down upon us. Orion’s belt has long since gone to bed. “Hi Dad,” I whisper. “Here’s to a New Year. Another one starting without you and mom.”

And then I pause, a bit of happiness floating from me up to him. “Well, not really without you…I feel you right here. See you tomorrow morning…say hi to Mom”

Katie and I head silently back to the house. At the front porch she stands on her back legs asking to be picked up. I do, picking up her awkwardly lopsided bobble-headed cone encased self and give her a tight hug and a kiss.

“Happy New Year baby-girl, Happy New Year.”

Happy New Year mama!

Happy New Year mama!


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3 Quote Challenge: Day 2

“In every change, in every falling leaf there is some pain, some beauty. And that’s the way new leaves grow. – – Amit Ray

My favorite tree.

My favorite tree.

I was challenged by Carol over at Wanderings of an Elusive Mind to post quotes for three days. If you’d like to play along we’d love to have you!

I have a young ginko tree in my backyard. Every year the leaves turn a wonderful yellow color and hang on long after most of the maple trees have released their leaves to the wind.

Golden ginko

Golden ginko

And every fall I wake up one morning and find all the leaves huddled like a life ring of gold around the base of the tree. After a hard frost all the leaves drop at once.

It must be an amazing site, to see all that gold come fluttering down at once. It would be magical.

This year I kept track of the weather, determined to see my tree shed it’s summer clothes.

Darn!

Darn!

But I missed it again. I guess it’s shy and only disrobes in the dark. Next year I’m going to have to camp out and keep watch all night, become a tree paparazzi.

If I capture the image I’ll share it with you. Next year for sure.

Mama makes me sit in these leaves every year.

Mama makes me sit in these leaves every year.


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Holding time still

Used to be full. Will be again.

Used to be full. Will be again.


This morning I walked out of the gym wearing shorts, probably the last time I’ll be able to do that for awhile. After all, it’s mid-November. And though today we hit a record high of 72 degrees (22.22 Celsius) I know this weekend we’ll get cold rain, maybe even a bit of snow.

After the frost.

After the frost.

As I left the gym, moving out into the warm sunshine, I wished that it could stay this warm and sunny until next spring. Then I noticed the business next door was playing the Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s Carol of the Bells. Loudly. The music was rolling out the open door and I was reminded that Christmas is right around the corner.

End of season colors.

End of season colors.

Time is marching on whether I like it or not.

I remember my mom wanting to stop time when we were growing up. She was already mourning our youth before we moved away. Sometimes I do the same, and I certainly hear other parents voice that sentiment.

Autumn morning light.

Autumn morning light.

But time slides away and before you know it the holidays are here, and then the next year, and the one after that. Years fly by, seasons even faster. The sun sets on today before I realize it’s potential. I want it all to slow down.

Unless it’s snowing. If it’s snowing then time needs to scream forward into spring.

Seriously.

Hanging onto fall.

Hanging onto fall.