OCR Text |
Show ::::jSfe7; M(onnimttafiim bylVanChalat Dashing through the snow for Thanksgiving dinner Parkites hope for a white Thanksgiving the way others croon for a white Christmas, and they are seldom, disappointed. This year the first real get-out-your-toboggans-and-skis snowstorm has arrived right on schedule. Great grey storm clouds rolled around on the horizon gathering steam all last week and on Friday they finally descended into the valley. It has been snowing ever since. There are now drifts around the doghouse, snowbanks alongside the driveway and frost around the window panes. Needless to say, the storm has been welcomed with much frolicking and cavorting. cavort-ing. Snowmen have appeared on front lawns, roof racks are now sporting skis instead of windsurfers, and I don't know anyone who hasn't rolled up and tossed the first snowball of the season. The best part is that snowstorms and the activity they generate (like shoveling) justify the voracious appetites needed to get the most out of the holiday season. Now that the ice is beginning to creep across the lake and the beach chairs are folded up in the shed, staying home to bake and sew is much more appealing. Even cleaning out the closet with the stereo cranked up seems like a pleasant way to pass the morning. We are now up long before dawn, not because of any new resolve to start the day earlier but because the sun is coming up so much later. As a result we get to see the moon set in the west hills behind the haystacks. It would be easy to convince ourselves that it is still the middle of the night but, by the lights in the creamery across the highway, we can tell the day has begun. Not until we venture out to the woodpile for a second load of fuel does the night begin to fade into a deep blue dawn. The dark shapes in the pasture become more recognizable as cows and horses and we can hear their hooves crunch against the frozen grass. It is a pretty time of day, and one that we would surely miss if the days were longer. At the other end of the day, though, the returning darkness is not welcomed. Sunset at 5:30 makes work seem longer and the evenings at home shorter. A friend has warned me that he plans to be grumpy throughout December because his cells won't be exposed to enough sunlight. By February when the days get longer he may start feeling feel-ing better, he said. There may be scientific support for his distress because I feel it too. There is an overwhelming urge to hibernate, to ponder dark thoughts and to become glued to the armchair beside the wood stove. The only remedies I've found for this early winter retreat are good friends, good books and good food. Potluck suppers are by far the most effective mood elevators. There is the challenge of preparing an honorable contribution contri-bution to the festivities, the excitement of tasting an over-abundant variety of dishes and of course the good cheer generated by warm human company. At the very least you can laugh over shared miseries cars that won't start, work that is too hard and paychecks that are to quickly spent. Returning home from such a gathering last week I heard a familiar hoot from a nearby cottonwood. Hoo hohoHoo. There he did it again. A new owl has discovered the loft in the barn which our old owl left vacant when he died last fall and he came out to introduce himself. After a lengthy exchange of hoots he flew off for a night of hunting and we were filled with Thanksgiving. |