I could never understand my parents’ preoccupation with the weather. Aging corrects that. My husband checks the weather channel twice daily, in case the report changes. He always wants to know what the temperature will be at night. I don’t get that. If I’m asleep, what does it matter?
I do admit to travel concerns, since I do all the driving. Ice and snow tend to deter me, but I don’t expect that trouble mid-May. Well. I should have. The sitting robin, hunkered down upon her four babies, doesn’t even get up and fly away when I appear at the door to look with consternation at the white stuff on my porch.
Yes. It snowed yesterday. Middle of May. Snow. Okay, no accumulation except on the spring growth but even that is meager. Neighbors to the north had sleet and hail. Come on! Winter coats and blustery winds? I have no answers for that robin.
The furnace came on in the night and stayed that way for awhile. It’s a comforting sound hanging around the edges of my sleeping, but still, a bit disturbing because, well, mid-May. I like to sleep in a cold room, comforter up around my ears. But by now, I also like the window open a smidge, for the fresh air my mother swore was good for me. Last night was winter, folks. The windows stayed closed.
This morning I must drive north to the optometrist with my husband whose glasses broke….he handed me the detached shaft before he slept…..and while his prescription’s not very strong, he’s blind as a bat in his mind when his glasses are separate from his anatomy. Hopefully it won’t snow. It’s a bit cool up here in my loft, so for the morning, at least, I’ll need to dig out the winter outerwear I confidently put away for the summer. Remember summer?
So here I am, typing the mundane called weather. Yesterday it did not deter us from singing with the choir at Community Church at Portage Lakes. We sang back to back services, combining with their choir and speaking of backs, mine reminded me that what used to be invigorating and endlessly uplifting now causes me considerable pain. Aging is wearisome when it infringes on the things I love best.
Every song ( something like 17…can that be true?) was filled with hope and determination to live in the arms of the Savior while we’re here in a daunting world. Respite and refreshment summed up the event, even with weary bones. We’re still blessed with a dynamic and Christ-filled director who, 34 years later, keeps a hopping pace, challenges us to keep up, and keeps us young. Partnering with the choir director of the host church adds an invigorating dimension we love. Their choir is a joy to sing with so most of us make serious effort to participate in what I hope will be an annual event.
I see the sun dappling my windows so it must be time for morning coffee. I love to sleep in but detest the waste of those hours. Beginning the day around 10:30 feels good while it lasts, but then reality hits: I can’t get those hours back. So, at 7AM I’m already ahead of the curve.