The Art of Selective Amnesia: The Winter Months

"Hey Eydie, whatcha doin' with that bag? 
Been shopping?

I think that those of us who live in the snow belt must have  a little selective amnesia when it comes to the onset of winter.  We always seem a bit surprised when our lovely gold and red dappled fall days descend like the thermometer into the depths of the frozen tundra.  What is that fable about the ant and the grasshopper?  The ant busily prepares for the cold winter that will most surely come while the grasshopper dallies away his time perfecting his mojito and salsa recipes for fair weather entertaining.  Well dang if the mint and the tomatoes didn't freeze last night, and the grasshopper will soon be a popsicle if she doesn't get his act together.

"When is the next flight to St. Thomas?"

It is not like I haven't experienced the ravages of an early winter.  In 1991 winter blew in on October 31st with a 13 inch snowfall and didn't leave until mid April. Those forgotten pumpkins looked pretty darn nasty when they finally appeared out of the melting snowdrifts.  That winter caught us all unprepared, and you would think that after an experience like that I'd all follow the ant's example on a regular basis.

Yes, I look just like this--perky and cozy.  God bless
Cuddl Duds.

Don't get me wrong.  I love winter.  That is one of the many reasons I live in Wisconsin. But  a northern winter requires preparation.  The leaves must be ranked, the garden beds put to rest, the gutters emptied, the lawn furniture stored, the windows washed, the snow removal equipment primed, and the car serviced for the eventual cold.  As the week-ends approach, I go through this list in my mind and promise myself that I will tackle at least a portion of the items when a Saturday and Sunday roll around.  Then one of two things happens.  Either we have a glorious two days of perfect weather that brings out the grasshopper in me  (Would you like a bit more lime in that mojito?), or (like this past week-end) it is so cold and rainy that any thought of venturing outside of the abode out seems insane.  I just want to put on my Cuddl Duds and make some cocoa.

So another week-end is on the way.  The leaves aren't raked, and it is suppose to be 28 degrees on Saturday morning.  That will seem downright balmy in January, but for now I just want to pull my down quilt over my head and pray for some ant friends to save me. That's what happened in the Land of Disney.

Prairie Sherry