When All Else Fails to Delight

Early, early in the morning with the sun as yet not high and bright in the sky. There's a stillness in the yard broken only here and there with the faint stirring of a leaf. The creatures of the outside take full opportunity of the shade still present to start their busy days before the sun beats down.

Bees busy gathering nectar from the waving flower heads, bouncing from blossom to blossom in a rhythm uniquely their own. In the corner of the yard a hummingbird hovers over a plant we put in precisely for its delight. Forward and backwards it flies, stopping to take a refreshing sip here and there. Our blue jays are out for an early morning stroll, perambulating around the grass like guests at a smorgasbord. Every few feet they stop to sample a morsel. Last year brought us a new treat: we have a chipmunk family in residence. They are a delight to watch as they hurry across the patio on their way to gather up the bounty available to them in the yard. Occasionally one of them will stop for a second by the sliding door and give me a quizzical look. It's a time for fancy, and I imagine that chipmunk wondering as to what kind of creature has been locked into that glass box he passes.

Early morning, when all things for this day are still possible, when enthusiasm begins to build, when I can face anything and do anything. If my outside creatures can face the day with enthusiasm then how can I do any less? I head upstairs to begin my day officially and the sound of birdsong lends ease to my steps. No better way to start the day than this.

Thank You Hashem

It's been a very busy day, what with marking end of term papers and preparing for a big kiddush on Shavuous. The last bunch of cakes is in the oven and I came downstairs to take a break. Why downstairs? Because outside of the sliding doors by my desk is the most amazing relaxation aid ever created--the backyard. And in that yard our resident wildlife freely roams, giving me a front row seat for the action. This time of day it's mostly a bird show, with the performers flitting on and off the stage. And what beautiful and uplifting creatures they are. Some come singly and some come in groups, and I am reminded once again about some of the truly lyrical and also truly strange names that are given to the different types of bird groups. Representatives of each of the following come and visit us, along with many others as well.

A group of jays (we get bluejays)--a band, party or scold of jays
A group of larks--an exaltation of larks
A group of finches--a charm, trembling, or trimming of finches
A group of quail--a bevy or covey of quail
A group of sparrows--a host, quarrel or ubiquity of sparrows
A group of wrens--a herd of wrens
A group of swallows--a flight or gulp of swallows
A group of ravens--a conspiracy, unkindness, murder or storytelling of ravens
A group of starlings--a numeration, scourge or chatter of starlings
A group of cardinals--a college, conclave, deck or radiance of cardinals
A group of hummingbirds--a charm or hover of hummingbirds
A group of robins--strangely enough there is no group name for this type of bird

We sometimes--often times--get so caught up in what man has created that we forget to look around us at the wonders that God has created. So yes, thank you Hashem for allowing me my little adventures and glances into the magnificence you provide in the great outdoors. Thank you for the sweet trill of birdsong. Thank you for letting me slow the pace a bit and look out in peace and contentment.

It's All Perspective

There are plusses and minuses to all the various places that we live. What we need to do is keep things in perspective when we grouse about a particular thing that is bugging us. Certainly you readers should know that if I have to be living in NY I really like SI. And I love the sense of living with nature that our house gives me, with the full woods at the back of the house. And yet....

On the occasions that we have had to stay overnight in Brooklyn for a Shabbos simcha I've been unable to get any sleep. The constant sound of traffic and the inevitable sirens have me tossing and turning. Yet the reverse is true for others; those who have stayed with us over a Shabbos have more than once complained that it's just too quiet and they couldn't fall asleep. Well, if they came now they wouldn't be able to make that statement.

Right now It's that small window we get of just perfect weather. We're between full heat blasting and airconditioning blasting. The windows are joyously thrown open. Even though it's still a bit cool at night, it's refreshing, snuggle under the covers cool rather than bone chilling. And I haven't had a full night's sleep since we opened the windows. The problem? Ralph and Alice and all their feathered friends are running on a biological clock way different from mine. At even a small suggestion of light breaking over the horizon those dratted birds break out in full concert. In the blink of an eye they go from full sleep to a 1000 bird rendition of the Brandenburg Concerto.

Nope, 5:17AM is just not my favorite time of day, and raving at ravens is not the way I want to start that day. Yes, yes, I know--get some perspective. I'd be a lot unhappier if I lived where there were no birds, where nature was something I read about rather than experiencing first hand. A lot easier to get that perspective if I weren't facing a 19-hour day on too little sleep. I guess our esteemed government leaders haven't yet figured out how to get our wildlife on the daylight savings schedule so that it meshes with the humans with whom those birds share the world.

Right about the time that I finally learn to sleep through the birdsong it will be time to turn on the air conditioners, and I'll have to start all over again in getting used to weird sounds during sleep. But hark--there's a lull in the concerto and I'm heading back to bed to make up the sleep deficit. Shakespeare sends me off with hope--"To sleep, perchance to dream."

A Stop and Smell the Roses Reminder

Yesterday the dentist and I had an un-longed for and unwanted visit. To say I haven't been in a good mood since that visit is an understatement even I'm not capable of. I had no energy to do much of anything, and no desire either. And no, the overcast wet weather has not been helping any.

About the only thing I accomplished yesterday was to take some of those crumbs and odds and ends of dry chometz that I'd been saving and go spread them across the planter beds for the birds. Even there I wasn't all that hopeful that I'd see a cheerful and cheering up gathering of birds because of the rain. And besides, the rain would probably just turn those crumbs into something the birds wouldn't look at, so why did I bother?

Just now I got the answer to that "why bother?" question, and a good lesson as well. A new type of bird that I have never seen before came to visit in our yard. It has a snow-white underbody and beautiful cobalt blue and white on its top and feathers. If this is a type of bluejay it's a very unusual one. And yes, it's been enjoying a long and leisurely breakfast.

Amazing how the sight of this beautiful creature of nature has taken me out of wallowing in misery. Suddenly the day has possibilities I wasn't seeing before. Sure, I'm still going to take those ibuprofen precisely when I'm allowed another dose, but I'm not sitting around any longer feeling sorry for myself with only those ibuprofen to look forward to. We shouldn't just mutter "this too shall pass"--we need to believe it, because yes, it--whatever "it" is--won't be here forever. And yes, the sights of nature are still one of the best antidotes to the blahs that there is.

So, if you're having one of "those" days (and before Pesach those-days-itis is a common enough occurrence), literally stop and smell the roses--or ooh and aah as nature is once again unfurling spring in its journey to summer. No, the pain won't go away, but amazingly enough it will be lessened.

A Spring in my Step... Not

Lest any New Yorkers may have forgotten, the Spring Equinox was on March 20. That's right--
Spring has officially started. Gardening services all over SI were out in full force yesterday fertilizing lawns and preparing for the green explosion that marks Spring in our borough.

Apparently Mother Nature has taken exception to the idea that Spring is supposed to be visiting us. Nothing like waking up to a blanket of white: not on the beds--on the lawn. As I stare at the trees in the woods they are an unbroken picture of ghostly branches clad in white. Where crocuses were gaily pushing up their heads yesterday, today there is no reminder that green is the color that nature favors.

Back to finding where in the back of the closet I tossed my boots in celebration of winter's end. Was it truly only last Friday that the temperature was 71 and all the windows in the house were open wide to bring in a breath of fresh air?

I look for something to blame for today's weather and I find it handily. My brother from California flew in last night for a short visit. Clearly Mother Nature decided to give him a taste of what he doesn't get where he lives. But why oh why do I have to taste along with him?!

I'd snuggle up back under the covers and hope that when I awaken once again I'll discover this was all a bad dream, but I've lived in New York too long to truly believe in that fantasy. Instead it's time for a steaming hot cup of coffee while esconced in fuzzy slippers and a snuggly robe. Then it's time to go and put out food into the bird feedeers yet again. Our feathered friends are doomed to disappointment if they think that they are getting nature's fresh bounty today.

Have a safe day today, and just keep reminding yourself that this weather can't last for ever--I hope.

Shabbos Shira--it's for the Birds

Just a reminder that for some there is the custom to put out food for the birds on Shabbos Shira. This year in the northeast the food will be especially welcome as snow is covering the ground almost everywhere. Given the snow cover, which makes it precarious for the birds to land, you might be better off hanging those bird treats from a tree branch. To make a hanging treat, use peanut butter to bind together your other offerings--things like bread/cracker crumbs, cereal, seeds, nut meats. Form the ball around a piece of string, and loop the string over a branch. The ball needs to be sticky enough to adhere to the string, so don't be chintzy with the peanut butter.

On Leaves

It's kind of ironic really that I'm going over the O. Henry story "The Last Leaf" with some of my classes right at the time that the shrubs and trees in my yard are valiantly trying to hold on to their last leaves.

There's one small bush that has lost all but one of its leaves and it's holding on to that leaf as if the world depended on its keeping it in place. It's a bright beacon of glowing red on an otherwise brown and bare tangle of branches.

Definitely a lesson to be learned, both from the story and from my bush, a lesson about determination and not giving in. A lesson about keeping the faith even when the odds seem to be against you. A lesson about how even something as small as one little leaf can have far reaching consequences.

For a view of some of those "last leaves," may I suggest a look out your window. For the story, please go to http://www.online-literature.com/donne/1303/

Java for the Garden

Are you a coffee drinker? Are you a gardener? Perfect! There's a way you can "justify" all that coffee you have been drinking: the grounds are a real treat for your outdoor and indoor acid-loving plants. Among these plants, shrubs and trees that are acid lovers are all conifers, azaleas, hydrangeas, rhododendrons, ferns and most vegetables and fruits.

One way to use the grounds is to just sprinkle some around each plant--gently rake into the soil with your fingers or a small trowel. Another way is to mix the coffee grounds in with any top soil you are using to top dress a bed or into the soil you are preparing for planting.

I don't drink brewed coffee at home but I have a deal with the parent of someone I once tutored, who owns a restaurant. I bring them a bunch of cans/resealable bags and they dump the grinds from the coffee they brew into the cans for me. I give my garden this "coffee fest" in the spring, midsummer right about now and in the early fall. It's recycling with lots of advantages for the garden. And if the wind blows just right after I've given my garden its coffee dressing, the smell is so unbelievable.

I save a spoon or two for my indoor plants and gently scratch the grounds into the surface soil. And sometimes, in the fall and wintertime for my indoor plants, I'll mix in a few spoons of instant coffee into my watering pot and water with this brew. They seem to love it. Recycling isn't just about plastic and paper--coffee grounds count too.

Some Bird Brained Guests

It's quiet in the house and I'm not up to finishing all the cooking yet. I head to the computer to check emails and to take care of some odds and ends of business. Frankly, I'm bored and the view outside the sliding doors is of foot after foot of grass and no living creatures. I've been saving a large bag of some odds and ends of challah and rolls and cereals and assorted goodies. I go outside, spreading the wealth across the lawn and planting beds. I head back inside and wait to see what will develop.

Boredom banished as the yard comes to life. Chickadees and starlings arrive first, yapping loudly to spread the word that the K yard is where it's happening now. A small bevy of quail also drop in. In one corner a group of robins is eating with gusto. A squirrel comes down the hill to see what all the fuss is about. He snags a piece of roll and sits and munches while he observes.

Some of the pieces I put out are larger than others and I watch as the chickadees play grab and snatch with those pieces. They head for the patio to duke it out over who has territorial rights to those larger pieces. One piece of bread has been grabbed and then grabbed again by 7 different chickadees. A whole yard's worth of goodies to enjoy and they are getting territorial over one relatively small piece.

On one of the fences I count 17 starlings who have grabbed their snacks and are sitting high up to enjoy them out of the traffic jam the lawn is becoming. Our chipmunks have ventured out to see what all the noise is about. One of the chickadees left a largish piece on the patio where the chipmunks are watching and they grab it and head for their home to eat in comfort at their own "table."

The bluejays are being uncommonly reserved. They sit on the edge of a planter wall and watch their cousins at work. It's almost as if they won't deign to eat what a mere chickadee will eat. I know from experience that that attitude won't last. In the end, wanting that treat will win out over artificial ideas of whom you will socialize with during a meal and whom you won't socialize with.

We also have a visitor who arrived last week from way out of town--its colors are a vibrant green and yellow. This has to be a pet of some type that escaped its cage and is now living free. So far it's doing fine mingling with its cousins, but I worry about what will happen when the summer ends and colder weather arrives.

Amazingly a mother and young baby bird, about the size of a large egg, land right near the doors. I watch as the mother fusses around that chick, dashing around to gather bits of bread and bringing them back to feed the youngster with. As the chick turns and attempts to walk out onto the lawn, the mother grabs at its tail and pulls it back. Only when she is side by side with it do they proceed to the grass. Doesn't seem to matter whether human or otherwise--a mother is a mother.

Sure, the lawn is a treasure trove of worms and bugs, and I didn't need to feed my backyard neighbors for fear they would go hungry. But everyone, wildlife included, sometimes likes something different, likes a snack of a different flavor. As for me, there's a smile on my face and my boredom is gone. There is simply nothing like a hearty dose of nature to banish the blahs and to put everything into perspective.

Conversations in my Garden

I was outside in front of the house this week communing with one of the plants that was not behaving as expected. When I purchased that plant I had a specific spot in mind for it. I expected that it would eventually grow to fill up the spot but that would be it. All the info about that plant told me that it would not grow beyond two feet in height and width. That suited me just fine.

Apparently no one told this plant that there were limitations to how big it could grow. Once its roots were established it started to grow, and grow, and grow. This supposed two-foot tall plant is at five feet and still shooting up. It has overgrown the space allotted to it and is spreading into the areas where other plants are growing. It is overshadowing the lower growing plants and blocking the sun from reaching them. It is now in competition with the other plantings, making those plantings decidedly grumpy.

My choices were really simple ones. I could yank the plant out altogether, since it wasn't behaving as expected and I'd never know just what it might do next. I could take out the pruning shears and cut it down to a way smaller size. Of course, I'd have to do that trimming on a constant basis if I wanted to keep the plant under control, and it would continue to push to grow that way it wanted to. Or, I could take that plant and transplant it to another spot in the garden, one where it could grow the way it apparently has been destined to grow, but where it wouldn't cause problems for its neighboring plants, and where they would not cause problems for it.

Try as I might, I couldn't find just the right spot to transplant that plant to. I didn't want to throw it out because it had some really beautiful aspects to it. It might be a pain in the spring and summer, but its fall and winter foliage is a stunning color of red, and even when the leaves fall off there remain beautiful bright red berries that lend welcome color to a dreary winter landscape. So, my only remaining choice was to prune it down to a manageable size in the spot where it is already planted. How well it is going to take to that pruning has yet to be seen. It could be that it will appreciate the "haircut," or it may sit and sulk and refuse to cooperate any longer.

It occurred to me that that plant is a good metaphor for so many other aspects of our lives. Sometimes we find ourselves planted in communities where we don't fit in comfortably. Sometimes we prune ourselves to fit in with the community, but that pruning isn't the most beneficial thing for us and we never thrive the way we were meant to. Sometimes we have to move ourselves to a spot where we will do better. Yes, sometimes there is simply no other place for us available and we have no choice but to accede to the wishes of the gardener and the other plants. And yes, sometimes we look at it as just too much trouble to have to go through the effort to dig ourselves up and replant ourselves some place else, even if that move would be to our benefit.

When the garden gets crowded, when there are too many different types of plants in one space all competing for the same nutrients, when there are too many plants for any of them to grow to their fullest and become the plants they could be, it's time to look at ALL of the options and choose what is best for that plant, even if the decision is difficult. And yes, that should apply to human beings as well. As long as they take their roots with them, most plants can grow in a variety of settings and places.

A Natural Time Out

Thank you nature for providing a distraction from all the other weighty matters this week. Our backyard menagerie is finally reaching completion: our blue jays are back. And they are truly in fine form. They showed up yesterday morning and it did not take 5 minutes and they were in a slanging match with an assortment of other birds taking refuge in the shade of a corner of the garden. No other word to describe the way they were going around the garden other than strutting. It's obvious that they believe that fine feathers make fine birds. So far they have not faced off with the cardinals already in residence. That should be a battle royal. Once again I can see that I'm going to be spending some time refereeing our feathered residents.

Adding to the fun and games is the fact that two pairs of blue jays showed up, although not at the same time (easy enough to tell because of the size and patterning of the feathers). So, are those two pairs going to join together to terrorize the rest of backyard residents or are they going to fight each other for supremacy?

Yes, when we move I'm definitely going to miss having a ringside seat for the goings on in my backyard.

A Hostage Situation

In general I love the world of nature and the inhabitants thereof. Okay, there are a few of those inhabitants that I wouldn't mind should they go on the endangered species list, things like mosquitoes, for instance. But in general I love observing nature's denizens. I'm also a bird person and have spent many a minute admiring the grace and coloring of our feathered friends. Yesterday, however, my love of these creatures was sorely tested.

Somehow in our urban culture, pigeons have decided that parking lots were created just for their use. Find a large parking lot anywhere around the city and you will also find a flock of pigeons perambulating around it. Let's not even mention the "gifts" they leave on cars and on the asphalt. But generally, if a car is driving in that parking lot the pigeons move out of the way. They may be pigeon-cursing under their breath but they move. In this way both pigeons and people can take advantage of the lot's amenities.

The parking lot at a local Shop Rite supermarket is one of those fairly large lots. But because there are other stores surrounding the supermarket as well as access streets that don't all go the same direction, exiting the lot requires pretty much only going along one route to get out. So I pulled out of my parking spot, turned to get into the exit lane and stopped dead. An uber gathering of pigeons was covering the exit lane completely. And this group was not dispersing at the sound of a car coming. When it became clear that my only choice was going to be committing pigeon murder I tapped on my horn. This should have been guaranteed to get the pigeons moving. They didn't budge an inch. It seems that some misguided pigeon lover had spread the contents of a huge bag of oats and seeds all over that particular end of the parking lot. Those pigeons were having a picnic and nothing was going to move them.

At this point traffic was backed up behind me about 5 cars' worth. I got out of my car to let the other drivers know that I wasn't not moving on purpose. A few other drivers also got out, ready to lambaste me. And then they noticed the pigeons. Desperate measures were called for so there we were, three otherwise rational adults, yelling at the pigeons to stop being stubborn and get out of the way. After about two minutes, when no pigeon movement had taken place, we looked at each other in embarrassed silence. Not only had we agitatedly been conversing with pigeons, but the score was pigeons 100, us zip.

Help arrived in the form of a store employee wielding an oversize push broom. In short order he had pushed the pigeons and the feed over to a corner where they wouldn't block traffic. Apparently this has happened before and the store is prepared for the situation.

Yup, man truly believes that he rules the world and all that is in it. And then a volcano and a flock of pigeons puts paid to that idea.

They're Supposed to Get It Wrong

It's a tenet held dearly by all US citizens that weather forecasters are akin to tribal shamans, using a set of mystical incantations to arrive at some announcement of what the weather will be, announcements that will inevitably turn out to be wrong. People routinely check the forecasts and also routinely ignore what they predict because they are going to be wrong. Like other pieces of folk wisdom, the one about the forecasters is what is turning out to be wrong, and the forecasts themselves have been spot on.

In one short three-week period we have gone through three years' worth of seasonal cycles, having experienced fall, winter, spring and summer in swift succession. People who ran to get air conditioners on and blasting on Wednesday and Thursday awoke with their teeth chattering this morning as temperatures plummeted downwards and rainstorms pelted our already over-saturated ground. Women, who on Wednesday, in record breaking heat, discussed summer Shabbos menus, are running for their cholent pots this morning.

And it's not just New York. During the last days of Pesach Southern California near the border with Mexico got hit with an earthquake measuring 7.2 on the Richter scale. This weekend a storm coming down out of Alaska is going to drench California. One of my students left Denver Wednesday morning with snow falling steadily. By the time he arrived in NY the weather in Denver had gone up to the 60s.

Though it goes against the grain for many of us, we're starting to look at those weather forecasters with a bit more respect. Hard to admit it but their crazy predictions of highly fluctuating weather have been right. The way things have been going weather-wise it wouldn't surprise me in the least to wake up next week and see flakes of snow falling outside the window.

But the crazy weather patterns have also brought to mind the following: "Man tracht undt Gott lacht"--man tries and God laughs. We humans have the fallible idea that we are in charge of the world and that what we say goes. And then something as "simple" as the weather shows us that we are far from in charge of the world. If God, and the nature he created, want it to be 92 on April 7 and 51 on April 9 then that is what it is going to be. I was going to switch all the cold weather and hot weather clothing in the closets today. Thank you God for taking that chore off the list.

God's Country

A posting by Rabbi T over Chol HaMoed resonated with me. He was speaking about the fact that somehow, no matter where he has been living, he hasn't seen much of the area where he is living. Even on vacation he and his family don't tour around. This year, despite the fact that he spent many years in NYC, he saw Central Park for the first time.

The Rabbi is not alone in this. So many people I have spoken with over the years tell me that they were so bored in places they went to on vacation. When they mention some of these places I get perplexed. So many of them are situated in or in close proximity to some of the most beautiful of the US's nature landmarks. But somehow people don't take the time or perhaps have the interest to get back to nature.

Growing up in the Pacific Northwest we lived surrounded by some of the most beautiful country on earth. My parents, both of them, were nature lovers and our family trips and vacations were spent in exploring natural wonders. My hubby and I are in sync on this as well. He would rather spend his vacation seeing "God's Country," as he calls it, than traipsing around something man built.

We are told that man was given the earth for his use and all that is in it. Seems to me that we aren't appreciative enough of the gift of that world that we were given. Even in our cities there are pockets of greenery containing some pretty incredible sights, and we tend to walk straight on by with nothing more than a cursory glance. I once had a cousin tell us that she couldn't live in Staten Island--there were too many trees and too much grass. How, she asked, did we take it day after day? Weren't we worried that a tree could fall on someone? And all those nasty insects and birds leaving droppings on our cars?

My backyard visitors have been making their first spring appearances and I'm tickled pink. The sound of birds has replaced the sound of the howling winds of the past few weeks. Crocuses are pushing up and the deciduous bushes are sprouting new buds. At times like this I fully agree with the poet who said: "I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree." And I won't see a building as lovely either.

The natural world is an incredible gift given to mankind by God. How dare we turn up our noses at His gift. Saying "some day" doesn't seem any more polite either. Is it really more important that our children go on the monster roller coaster at some amusement park than to be exposed to the natural wonders of our world? So many of our kids are totally divorced from the green world that is around them. They don't know the names of the trees and bushes and wildlife and couldn't care less. They look at concrete and steel creations and ooh and aah in wonder at what man has wrought. Perhaps it's time to introduce them to the truly amazing things that God has wrought. Most of us are more than overdue for a trip into God's Country.

Snow? Nooooooo!!!!

Once again Staten Island has shown its determination to stand apart from the rest of New York City. Only this time I would have given a lot to be just like everyone else. The snow that began yesterday was not supposed to bury NYC, being only peripheral to the Snowacane's path. That was at least the theory.

It started snowing here really early yesterday morning, and except for a brief respite of a couple of hours in the early evening (just enough time to try and dig out some paths) it hasn't stopped. Because the old snow had not completely disappeared, my yard is now about 2-2-1/2 feet higher than the base of the house, and that's not counting the height of the drifts. My crew is out there for the umpteenth time trying to clear paths to get us to the street. And more snow is still predicted here for today and tonight, with "only" 2-4 inches expected tomorrow. Local forecasters are saying we will definitely have a 16" accumulation, if not more.

It picked a great weekend--not--to have this weather. Tomorrow is parshas Zochor and tomorrow night the megilla leining. Sunday morning megilla and then delivering shalach monos and getting in company for the seudah. Through a fluke, all my company for seudah is from SI this year. Hopefully they will be all dug out by then.

I can take comfort in this, however: it's worse, way worse in Teaneck and northern Jersey. Luckily my daughter from Teaneck arrived yesterday before the worst of the storm hit or she never would have made it home for Shabbos. And there is a real possibility that two couples who were supposed to head out to Teaneck may not be going, so my Suedah may get larger. So yes, here I am giving thanks for living in SI even while I'm complaining.

Have a safe Shabbos as you are out and about walking.

I think we have to change the words to that old song to read "Snow, snow, go away. Don't come back another day."

Shabbos Shira and our Feathered Friends

This Shabbos is Shabbos Shira, and as I wrote last year, it is a custom for some to put out food for the birds on this Shabbos. To avoid any problems I put out the food before Shabbos. This time of year the birds are really having to scrounge to find food, so be generous if you can. I put out some tins containing a mix of bread crumbs, crushed cereal, seeds and bits of dried, chopped fruits. I also make some balls to hang on the trees, using peanut butter to hold the dry mixture together.

Why feeding the birds? Apparently somewhere it is written that our feathered friends joined in in singing the Shir Shel Yam. Regardless, this has been minhag in our families forever, and I love watching the birds as they find their winter treats. Amazing what little it takes to make them super happy. Hmmm, might be a lesson to learn in there.

An Observation on the Snow

I've been watching the snowfall since yesterday. The city got itself organized early and had trucks out laying down salt even before the snow covered the streets. The first plows came around our area around 11:45 last night and made another couple of passes before 3:00. They were back very early this morning.

But here is where we have a problem. The plows push all the snow to the sides to make sure that the streets are cleared for traffic. In doing so they block in all the cars parked on the street and in the driveways. So, out go the people with shovels and blowers to uncover their cars and create openings for those cars to be able to drive on the street. But where is that snow going that is being taken off the cars? You can't shovel it onto the sidewalks and block people into their homes and the front yards are already full of snowdrifts and there is no room for any more. So where is that snow going? Back onto the center of the street. No sooner had the people on the block managed to dig out some openings for their cars when the plows were back and blocked them all back in again. And out again went the people, re-digging out their cars and putting the snow back in the street.

There was a bit of a shouting match down the block between a few shovelers and the plow operators. The plow operators want that shoveled snow to be put somewhere else other than back into the street. The shovelers reasonably pointed out there there was NO place else to put the snow. They already were parked in snow caverns.

The amount of snow we got puts us into a catch-22 situation--darned if we do and darned if we don't. We're running into some basic mathematical/scientific facts. You can't put more into a container than that container can hold. Unless and until some of that snow melts we are going to be spending a whole lot of time digging and re-digging and re-re-digging, moving the snow accumulation from curb to street and to curb again.

And I am sending up some very sincere prayers that please, please let this be the last winter I have to spend in a snow area.

When the S Words Collide

It's Friday morning and Shabbos preparations are well under way. One S word present and accounted for. All the shopping for Shabbos was done yesterday. Another S word accounted for. And then the weather forecasters dropped another S word into my lap--Snow! This is one S word I am never ready for and would be thrilled if it were not present and accounted for.

I've been carefully following the weather predictions and each day the forecasters have added another inch or two of accumulation to the tally. What's worse is that they are now saying that the snow might continue into Sunday, another S word ruined. I don't mind snow when viewed on a postcard; I do mind having to deal with the aftermath of all that pretty snow once it has fallen. It brings with it all those other S words: slush and slippery and snarled and slow traffic. And if you are out there trying to deal with the shoveling--a truly nasty S word--then you are also likely to end up with another S word--sore muscles.

What can I say; I'm just not a fan of snow. So let me wish you all safe walking tomorrow and a truly restful and peaceful Shabbos--you're going to need it because Motzoai Shabbos is shaping up to be nasty.

Winter? No thank you

There aren't many things that I truly hate, but I make an exception for Winter. I am so not a cold, wet and mush person. And now the weather forecasters have mentioned the dreaded S word--snow. That will produce another hated item--slush. And for the last two weeks the weather has already brought two cases of major sniffles to the house. And if I'm reading the symptoms correctly, hubby has bypassed the sniffly cold and headed straight for the flu. My not-going-to-leave-the-house Friday is over as I head out to buy extra tissues and tea and decongestants and sanitizing hand lotion.

The only thing keeping me sane right now is that Shabbos will be here in a few hours. Somehow everything gets put into perspective once Shabbos arrives. The light from the Shabbos candles warms up even the dreariest day. Still, I think those animals who hibernate right about now are on to a good thing. Fall asleep at the end of Autumn and wake up in Spring? Yeah, I could go for that.

Ah well, off to shop, another one of the dreaded S words. Let me wish you a gutten Shabbos a bit early in the day--I've a feeling that this afternoon is going to be a rather full one with no time for leisurely greetings.

God as the Ultimate Artiste

Of all of the boroughs of New York City, Staten Island has the most green area, the most parks and natural woodlands. While the population of the Island has more than doubled since we moved here, we are still a feast for the eye when it comes to nature.

Many of our streets and boulevards, particularly the older ones, are wider than in other parts of the city. And those streets are a riot of greenery. Trees have been planted by the city about every 20-25 feet on every block, including those with stores on them. And individual home owners have added tons more trees and shrubbery. Add in our natural woodland areas, part of The Greenbelt, with the wide variety of greenery, and we really do present a natural wonderland.

Many of the trees have grown to incredible heights, and you drive down our streets under a living canopy of greenery. This time of year, though, we get another wonderful visual treat: the leaves of trees and shrubbery are turning colors. Driving down the street presents you with a riot of color. We're not going from green to brown. Magenta, bright red, pink, orange of every shade, gold, bright yellows--all are present, and present in wondrous amounts. Glance down a street for a few blocks and houses disappear as mother nature catches and holds the eye.

Forget the things we buy--the most precious items right now are on display for anyone to see, free of charge. It's impossible not to praise the hand of God when faced with the wondrous sights of autumn unfurling. Many a painter has attempted to catch the vibrant colors of autumn on canvas, and some have done a fairly good job. But there is nothing like the original for beauty to take your breath away. Maybe not the season to stop and smell the roses any longer, but yes, stop and view the foliage.