Cold, Bleak Times

So here we are in the middle of winter, or at least we will be by the time you read this. The days are short and cold. Last night it was dark by 5 or 5:30 p.m., and by 8:30 I could barely keep my eyes open! No wonder bears hibernate.

 So here we are in the middle of winter, or at least we will be by the time you read this. The days are short and cold. Last night it was dark by 5 or 5:30 p.m., and by 8:30 I could barely keep my eyes open! No wonder bears hibernate.

I remember when I lived up north. Winter began earlier there. I enjoyed the cold weather. But I kept waiting for that Northerner to blow on through and leave a few 70-degree days in its wake! Never happened. Finally, in late spring, summer arrived. And that was it until the next winter. How I endured seven years of this, I have no idea. Florida had shorter winters, but the rest of the year it was like living in a steam bath. I like Texas weather better. You have some cold. You have some warm (OK, HOT). Before you can blink, it’s changed.

So where’s the warm lately? I’ve had enough, thank you, of these long, cold days, one after another after another, with no toasty little breaks in between. I want the sun on my face and at my back. We had a couple of teasers last week when Old Sol finally chose to shine for a few hours. And when it started to go down, the temps dropped fast.

Zack (who hates the cold and loves summer no matter how hot it becomes) toughs it out in this season, goes and lights up brush piles, stays warm moving around the fire. Sometimes I help him, but when I stay behind to work in this icy farm house, I never seem to warm up.  He comes in complaining of being too hot (not to mention singeing off a few eyebrows yesterday, usually MY trick), and finds me wearing three of four layers of clothing, with a hot sock draped around my neck.

Two of our very old Dearborn heaters finally gave up the ghost this year. We thought they only needed cleaning, but apparently the same part had to be replaced in each. The part is almost as expensive as an entire new heater, so we made the sensible decision to buy new. The newer ones are sleeker and have a smaller footprint and profile. How nice that they take up less space. Although I had become accustomed to the old dinosaurs, I always thought they were huge (and no prettier than the newer ones). Well, I hate to sound like an old codger, but these new heaters just aren’t the same. Buyer’s remorse set in. We broke down and had the part replaced in one of the old Dearborns and will pick it up today. I missed it like an old friend. Without these familiar, old boys in place, the house has seemed colder than ever, both physically and figuratively. We’ll put the second part-less heater in a barn and wait until we can make that repair as well. So much for progress.

There is little blooming now but pansies and Johnny-jump-ups I put in a few weeks ago. They replace the ubiquitous purslane and moss rose in my planters (which the frost turned to much). These are the only annuals (I’ve learned by tedious trial and error over many years) that will survive either our hot summers or cold winters. So they take seasonal turns supplementing the things that return year after year. The perennials that flower, on and off, from early spring to late fall are dormant now. I remind myself that they need a rest to come back strong and healthy, which I anticipate with great impatience. I miss the show.

I know that in a few short months, muscari (blue bells, as they are often called here), crocus, narcissus (paper whites), daffodils, hyacinths, — and all the rest— will pop up.  Poppies and morning glories will sprout from this year’s seed. Bluebonnets will spread like a blanket, and everything we’ve worked so hard to plant and nurture will reward us by chasing away the winter.