End of October

Much has happened in the last month.  The biggest being that my first grandchild was born, and I’m experiencing apartment living in Colorado for a few months so that I might help my daughter and bond some with her new little girl.  I haven’t lived in an apartment in, well, a very long time.  Fortunately, my dog is with me, which has been the greatest adjustment.  I should write a blog post about that one, which I probably will at some point…try using a Gentle Lead/halter on an eleven-year-old dog that’s never had the need for one. It hasn’t been easy but it’s working. 

It’s also snowing.  Having moved to Memphis nearly four years ago from Chicago, I’ve missed the snow, so I’ve gotten my fill of it through four separate snow events in the last month.  But it’s been cold, as well.  Too cold.  Come on back, autumn temps…I’m ready!

Research on the Suffrage Movement

The stay has allowed me to focus on writing a play that I’ve been working on for a while.  In celebration of the centennial anniversary of the 19^th Amendment being ratified, it’s a play about how women earned the right to vote.  One Act, Two Scenes, Four Characters (three historical/one fictional).  I’ve been promised a staged reading, which has been the best motivation for completing it.  It’s coming along.

Also, when you have a new grandchild, fires tend to get lit under your feet and things happen that you’ve been planning for years.  My husband and I are in the process of buying a second home here in Colorado.  Will share more when the closing happens. 

New work on Fine Art America 

Finally, worth repeating, please visit my website www.veronicabatterson.com, my photography site www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com (Fine Art America), and this blog for new work and updates. Looking for fall reads?  Williamsburg Hill is waiting for you to check it out on Amazon. 

I’ll end this blog post and month with the lyrics to one of Dan Fogelberg’s songs, Old Tennessee…appropriate and kind of where I took the title of this post, even if it is actually the end of October. 

Old Tennessee

By Dan Fogelberg

End of October
The sleepy brown woods seem to
Nod down their heads to the Winter
Yellows and grays
Paint the sad skies today
And I wonder when
You're coming home

Woke up one morning
The wind through the window
Reminded me Winter
Was just 'round the bend
Somehow I just didn't
See it was coming
It took me by surprise again

And I hear you're in San Francisco
Living with your sister who's a mother to be
And her husband's way down in Georgia
And I'm still in old Tennessee...
Wishing you'd come home to me

Life here is easy
I'm sure you recall
How it's so warm and breezy
In the Summer and the Fall
But Winter's upon me
And I've got no heat here
And I miss your fire so sweet, Dear
I miss your fire so sweet

And I hear you're in San Francisco
Living with your sister who's a mother to be
And her husband's way down in Georgia
And I'm still in old Tennessee...
Wishing you'd come home to me

End of October
The sleepy brown woods seem to
Nod down their heads to the Winter
Yellows and gray
Paint the sad skies today
And I wonder when
You're coming home
I wonder when you're coming home

Well, It's Getting in My Eyes

Nineteen years ago, we made a move that would change my life, or at least my perspective of it.  A new job uprooted our family tree, transporting us from southeast Tennessee and planting us in the middle of Grosse Pointe, Michigan (just outside of Detroit).

It was January of 1994 and it was cold.  I remember being cold all of the time, in fact.  A foot or more of snow carpeted the ground and it didn't go anywhere.  This southern belle's experience with snow was limited.  If we got the white stuff in the south, there were never more than a few inches at a time, and it melted quickly.  Snowstorms back then, while debilitating (they shut down everything), were brief.

My less than subtle introduction to a true winter was miserable for me.  I always thought if I'd gradually been introduced to the effects of snow, then I would have felt differently at the time, perhaps learning to like it more quickly.  But I was plucked from a no-coat winter, and plopped into the "frozen tundra" within a forty-eight hour time frame.  It immediately became my life and there was no going back.

Most of the side effects were physical.  I shivered all of the time and my feet were constantly cold.  Often, after being outside, I would sit on the edge of the bathtub, soaking my feet in warm water to get relief from the numbness.  Slipping on an icy sidewalk didn't help things.  Hurting my back in the fall caused pain, limited my mobility and intensified the feelings that were festering inside me about northern winters.  I hated them.  Those emotions wrecked havoc on everything else.  Dread and gloom filled my head at the thought of ever having to step outdoors.  I wanted to hole up in my house and nest until spring.

Slowly, things began to change.  One of the best memories I have of living in that community during the winter months involved sound.  The fire department would hose down the local tennis courts, creating an ice rink for the residents to enjoy.  At night, it was easy to hear the clink of skates on ice as kids laughed and played hockey under the tennis court lights.  I thought it the neatest sound and it was completely foreign to me.  Ice skating and hockey weren't southern sports.

That sound and the sight of those kids generated something in me.  My eyes began to open.  Perhaps attending some Detroit Red Wings games helped.  It was during the Steve Yzerman era and I got caught up in the excitement and fun of just watching the games, even if I never understood the significance of the octopus toss.  And to embrace Detroit hockey meant welcoming snow and winter in its full glory.  I eventually did.

I learned what everyone else had to learn...how to dress for the weather and how to drive in it.  Life went on regardless of the temperature outside.  Now, I can say with all honesty, I love snow.  It's difficult to remember winters without it.  Seeing snow fall is one of nature's most beautiful offerings and winter holidays seem enhanced by it.

Looking back, I wasn't the only one in my family exasperated by snow.  My younger daughter, just about to turn three at the time, wasn't happy one day when walking through a parking lot to our car.  It had started to snow heavily and, out of sheer frustration, she cried, "What are these things?"  I replied to her that it was called snow.  Her response?  "Well, it's getting in my eyes!"

I found a little rhyming poem I wrote about that day.  I've never claimed to be a poet, so please don't be too harsh.  It's just a sentimental piece I'm sharing about the time and my child.  As always, copyright applies (©Veronica Randolph Batterson ).

Well, It’s Getting in My Eyes

By Veronica Randolph Batterson

A child of three moved far away

Where heavy coats and mittens were needed to play.

Outside it was blustery, cold and wet.

“Who played in weather like this?” her mommy would fret.

They came from a place that is warm and sunny,

Here all the children looked kind of funny.

They were bundled and covered, not a visible face

Resembling monsters, aliens and things from outer space.

They wobbled and hobbled, barely able to walk

No words were spoken, they were too cold to talk.

Shivering and covered head to toe

They played and made snow angels in the fresh snow.

So this young child while outdoors one day

Looked up at the falling snow to say,

“What are these things dropping from the skies?”

“It’s snow, honey,” her mommy said.

“Well, it’s getting in my eyes!”

©Veronica Randolph Batterson

The Joy of a Dog in the Snow

What is it about snow that makes most dogs act giddy and as excited as a young child who gets to build a snowman instead of going to school?  Lily, my sweet Golden Retriever loves snow.  If I didn't know better, I would swear she'd been born in the middle of winter and her first introduction to the outdoors had included the white flakes.  But, she wasn't and it didn't.  She made her entrance in July, a middle of the summer pup.  She's a "lounge under the shade tree hound" on a nice warm day.  When snow appears, however, she kicks it up a notch.

Upon receiving our first measurable coating of the white stuff this winter, Lily seemed a little confused.  Bounding down the back porch stairs, she stopped suddenly.  Ears and tail up, she was alert.  She stared at the whiteness, as if to say, "Wait a minute. This wasn't here the last time I was out, but something about it seems familiar".  Then recognition spread across her face and the body language screamed, "Oh, yeah! This makes me happy!".  Then off she sprinted, running around like a mad dog on the loose.  This would not have happened on green, unadorned grass.

Her agility is spectacular.  Dodging trees, the deck and me, she zooms within inches of either smacking head-on into wood or taking my legs out from under me.  I suddenly regret not pursuing the agility training I'd thought about when she was a puppy.  When the running has appeased her, she practices "Stop, Drop and Roll" as if her life depended on it.  Finally coated like a fury snowball, she figures burying her head a few times might bring some sort of satisfaction that only a dog understands.  Then she reclines and finds some frozen snow, settling in to enjoy a treat while thinking she's hiding it from me.  It's sort of difficult to hide the frosty delicacy since it sticks out of the side of her mouth, but she thinks she's being successful.

While reclining on the snowy carpet, ice sticking out of her mouth as if she's smoking it, I wonder how she couldn't be cold.  But her demeanor is one of contentment.  Life is good and she's happy just where she is.  Coaxing her indoors isn't easy after the frolic but the promise of a treat and anything else I can come up with that sounds good to the canine ears eventually works.

The dry-off takes time.  The snow is now small, frozen pellets sticking to her fur.  Digging the accumulation from between her paw pads is a challenge.  In harsher temperatures, we velcro the Orvis dog coat on her, which she is fine wearing. (I shouldn't mention the dog booties I once purchased for her that she hated.  When I finally got them on her, she was as mobile as a stubborn mule, refusing to budge.  I returned them to the store.)

Even after all of this, she is happy.  It's a snow day for Lily.  I enjoy snow days too unless I have to drive in them during rush hour, or shovel after blizzards...and that's another story.

  

Snow in Chicagoland...Finally

I wondered if it was ever going to happen.  Not only has there been no snow (well, I think some weather guy said we'd had about an inch so far), the grass remained relatively green.  Some flowering shrubs were starting to bud...I noticed this on a few lilac bushes yesterday.  Temperatures lately have been as high as the upper 50s and Christmas without snow just didn't seem like Christmas.

I grew up in the southeastern part of the country and remember mild winters with very little snow, if any.  Until about 18 years ago, which was the time I moved "up north",  I was used to celebrating the holidays without snow.  In fact any sign of the white stuff down south usually sent folks running for milk and a loaf of bread. I always thought that was a bit funny anyway.  Why just a loaf of bread and milk?  It might be a good idea to pick up a few other things too...just in case.   

Last year, however, it seemed parts of the south received as much snow as we did in Chicago...until the big one in February.  The Blizzard of 2011 was the most snow at one time I've ever seen.  The morning after brought a clear blue sky and mountains of white.  Drifts were high.  One side of our house blocked a snow drift over seven feet tall.  It took us all day to dig ourselves out and, once we had, I didn't care if I ever saw snow again.

Funny how time fades the intensity of events.  As I gaze at how beautiful falling snow looks, especially as it gathers on the giant spruce trees that line our yard, I'll use the day to work on my next book. But I should keep in mind that about a year ago, visiting a nice beach sounded pretty good to me.