Well, the big storm is in process, and I'm really irritated. It's a heavy snow, and I just about tore open my guts brooming off the front deck. And that was only the first sweep of three inches. By the time the snow has stopped, I will have brushed the same porch about four times. The cats are having trouble walking around in it; the pigs hate it: everyone's grumpy here. Plus, I can't very well ride the horses in this stuff, so, though it's pretty, it's a pain in all our asses.
Edgar's out blowing our thousand yard driveway with a snowblower hooked up to the farm tractor. He just called to say it wasn't blowing well because it's so heavy. That means he'll have to do the properties often to keep up with it. Poor guy.
So, the cats, the pigs, the horses and I are all sitting around watching the snow accumulate and glaring at one another. The pigs blame me for putting he snow there, despite my telling them it's not my fault. But ya can't convince a pig otherwise once he's made up his mind. If I give each one a cookie, though, it'll soften their resentment.
For my part, though, I have vowed revenge on the snowstorm: I am going to sit down with a flower catalogue and order a bunch of tropical plants and bulbs for the garden. In so doing, I'm going to transport myself to my summer garden outfitted like a tropical paradise--so there, snow. The windmill palm tree planted next to the barn will remind me of our favorite tropical island, Grand Cayman, as well as the cannas, elephant ears, and the weird voodoo lily. I can see it all now: this summer Balliet's property will be ablaze in tropical plants--big-leaved, hardy banana plants, castor bean plants, whose seeds I collected this past fall. Picotee begonias, orange candleflowers, and mixed caladiums will compete for space amidst the profusion of emerald greens. Loud tangerine canna torches, a bi-color butterfly bush, red lilies dancing amid the huge green and red-veined castor bean plants--I see them!--towering above the electric-blue lobelia lining the walkway. And the caladium interspersed with the tuberous begonias should be striking, especially with a cat resting beneath the leaves.
Ah-h-h . . . ., I feel a bit better now. Now to the phone to call in my order of tropical plants---hey, if I order $40 worth, I get $20 worth of goods free. My kind of deal.
If you and your critters have cabin fever, you can transport yourself or carry out you storm-vengeance in other ways, too. For those of you always in a mad rush, multi-tasking, rushing about fitting in one more chore before work, take the time to foster mindfulness: slow down, call your pet to your side and luxuriate in his or her company for a moment. Curl up under a blanket with your pet by your side, listen to the roar of her purr, have a conversation with your kitty or dog, look into your fish's eye and just try to imagine what he or she is thinking about you at that moment, about life with you. And I'm sure, if you allow your mind to imagine such things, you will have taken yourself to a place that is warm, comforting, and inspiring--and the snowstorm will disappear, if only for a few moments, like magic.