The Old Woman and Old Man Winter

 

 

She pulls on a once black winter parka awash with salt stains from too many Midwestern winters, and then walks out the door into another sub-zero day.

The familiar squeaky crunch of white Sorrel boots pounding the dense snowpack provides a perfect serenade as she slowly marches down her long driveway towards the rusty mailbox.

This Minnesota native soon discovers that the three pairs of woolen socks inside don’t prevent the dampness or provide much warmth anymore.

Storm after storm have worn them all weary, as is she.

After successfully navigating one final ice patch, she fumbles with her mittens and the Thinsulate gloves underneath to pull out her large snow encrusted heat and electric bills from inside the frozen box, and also one small brightly colored postcard from Florida.

As the old woman turns to walk back up to her home, a wicked wind grabs her pretty postcard and sends it flying to the south.

With a fist in the air she screams, “And I live here, why?”

Muttering to herself, she then softly answers, “I guess it’s because I never left.”

And with that she smiles, and then laughs while catching a wet snowflake on her tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My little watch dog

Winter was particularly ruff for my little handsome man, Rex.

Life in the snow belt is often a cruel and slippery slope.

And this year even more so for a 7 pound pup who hails from Alabama.

Rex is typically a trooper, but the towering ice coated snow drifts were already wearing him down by the time a mid April blizzard hit.

My boy grew anxious, chewing on his dog tags in frustration.

But Rex is doing better now.

He has returned to his cozy loveseat on the sun porch where he naps to the cardinals’ spring serenade each day after breakfast.

Though I do catch an open eye on occasion. Rex remains very focused on the one remaining snowdrift next to our shady garage.

My little watch dog wants to make sure it continues to melt.

For that matter, so do I.

That’s some bunny!

“Some bunny thinks she’s the Easter bunny,” I told my tiny pup Junie B. this morning.

She responded with a little snort and what looked to be a laugh.

We’d awakened not too bright and early to the sounds of snow plows sailing down our street after yet another snow storm.

Junie B. was thinking we should start our Easter Party today after tearing open a bag of Easter basket goodies.

“What do you think about going to the sunrise Easter service tomorrow morning down at the beach?” I asked her. “It could be a little chilly with that 12 degree low by morning.”

I don’t know if Junie B. understood me.

But I do know for sure that Junie B. growled as she ran back to the crate and quickly slammed the door.

I think our long winter may be getting the best of both of us.

And believe me that’s no April Fool’s joke.