Looking out my Backdoor: Weirding my way into winter

No longer can I remain in denial. I am an addict. I am addicted to sunlight.

When I lived in Poulsbo, Washington, on the Kitsap Peninsula where it rained 10 months of the year, I remember how hard it was by February to keep up my spirits. That is normal behavior, pretty much.

Now, these years later, after a mere couple (2) cloudy days with rain, and I begin to wonder if a Prozac Big Gulp would really work.

Having grown up in a country of constant drought, I love the rain. However, I love it more here, where (usually) the days have a mix of sun and rain (when it comes in season). When it is weird, like now, not so much.

Three weeks now, well entrenched in the Dry Season, October to June, three weeks, I repeat, three weeks of rain. The skies have emptied their black crumpled doomy-gloomy clouds of rain, rain, rain every day. Makes me want to lay my head on the chopping block like a chicken who gave up, go a-head, ready for the pot. (Sorry, couldn’t help the pun.)

When we are gifted with two days of sunshine, sunlight, sunglow, glorious, beautiful, warm, brilliant, sizzling, sun, as we are today, were yesterday, ah. Happiness is.

Forecast for tomorrow is cold, cloudy, doomy-gloomy and rain.

Nobody wants to give attention to the words “climate change.” Simple. I understand. Overworked becomes overlooked. For my own benefit, I’ve changed the words. Admit it or not, we are well entrenched in Weather Weirding. (Along with other kinds of weirding but … )

Winter is bad enough without going weird. With harvest well under way, thousands of acres of corn are now ruined, good only for silage. Cane harvest has only just begun so should be OK except for the small amount of cut cane on the ground.

On a personal level, cold and wind and wet often find me huddled shivering in a blanket. In an effort to take better care of myself, I splashed out.

A good bathrobe is a lovely and decadent way to treat oneself with gentle care. I never knew that until now. After an evening shower, I cuddle in my plush hooded robe, double wrapped in front, which almost drags on the floor, with a book and a cup of steaming tea with a candy cane, warm and cozy, waiting for my hair to dry.

I take my pleasures when and where I can, luxuriate in such simple joys. I give them my attention, thank them for participating in my life. Makes me feel rich.

Look out the window at my dog, Lola. There she is, on her back in a puddle of sunshine, legs uplifted into the air, a look of silly satisfaction on her face. She is a good model for mental health.

In the Garden Weirding department, remember the lime tree I witched a few months ago. I had tried being nice. I had even threatened that if she didn’t pop out some limes soon, I would rip her out and replace her with a guava. Then a friend who looks good in pointy hats and is handy with a broom, suggested I witch my barren lime tree. Feeling foolish, I followed instructions. My lime tree today, who can say how or why, coinkydinky I’m sure, has branches so heavy with fruit that some are near to kissing the ground.

The Weirding part, though, is not that. In addition to limes, she is giving me lemons. Uh huh. Lemons. And the same branches also have limes. Mostly limes. Some lemons. Explain that! Weird!

If I could, I would follow Lola’s example and go lie on my back in the sun and soak up the sun before the clouds invade. If I get my creaky bones down to the ground, I fear I might never get up! I suppose I could roll under a lime tree and suck on a lemon.

However, it is clouding up and rain is on the way. Where did I put my bathrobe?

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].