Off the Lake

A quick, hard wind has come in from the west, bringing in snow enough that I cannot see the downtown buildings. A white curtain has been introduced across the horizon of brick and stone, and I am very glad to  be inside.  Forecast said winds up to 50 mph, and the bunny at the shore must be huddled down into a dry nest below ground level.  It amazes me, the delicacy of nature that is able to withstand the harrowing weather consisting of rain, ice, and snow, especially the kind pelting sideways.

Bird natural body temperatures ranges between 104 - 105 degrees, and I would think that even a fifteen minute blast of cold would severely affect their metabolism.  They aren't inside on the couch in front of a laptop, they are hanging on to a branch with their toes for dear life.  How do the finches that stay all year survive?  All I can imagine is that the species has adapted to the climate, in spite of being not more than a handful of feather and wit.

Fortunately, the short torment of snow has ended, but yet it remains cold.  I remember human me being chilled to the bone yesterday in my layers of clothing, while a furred but unclothed lagomorph raced around the rocks and wet sand and is still there, outside, no furnace, no teakettle, no blanket.  I tell my cats they have it good and to count their whiskers.  Two were lost and founds that lived a few winters outside before humans snagged their busy selves.  The other three were barely cared for, having had litters and just sickly when I got them from shelters.  I can only bless the dear unknowns who scooped them into carriers and got them to a place where they could receive help.

My big grey boy, Stevie, waits at the door when I leave in the morning, just begging to be let out, I'm sure a habit from an earlier life.  Well, there you go.  He is anticipatory and thus stunned when I open the door and all that surrounds him is linoleum.  No grass to bound outwards and into.  No wild neighborhood buddies to chew the mouse fat with.  He stands midway out, imagining other days, other yards, then sighs and turns back around, a bit defeated.  I know he is happy to be here, however, for he has begun to butt his large head into my leg, and take things less seriously.  Perhaps I can train him to wear a harness for a walk.

The sky has brightened.  Tomorrow is the first night of Passover, and I look forward to participating in the rituals at my daughter-in-law-to-be's parent's home.  I wish the cold would lift as does the rest of the city, there is not a soul who doesn't long for temperatures that don't require dressing up.  Soon.  I remember Easters in snow, even at the late date that this year's takes place, but then, the planet was coming out of a mini-Ice Age in 1950.  Trends indicate that maybe this warming afterwards is a natural occurrence, the last one  happened during Medieval time and contributed to increased crops and population.  Anyways, it's still cold outside.

So don't put up the winter blankets yet, and keep the flannel pajamas out a bit longer.  Still a good night for tea or cocoa, or something else to warm the blood and loosen the knotted joints.  I am blessed to be warm, the cats agree in their even respiration, curled on the mat, this fat cat.  Let dreams come.  Good night.