Monday, November 04, 2013

swirling leaves, twinkling lights

How windy is it, you ask?

...So windy that the bedside window, opened just a half inch, lets in gusts strong enough to make me yank the quilt from under Isis and push it firmly against my chin. (Ed rightly points out that keeping a window open, even a tiny crack at times when you're either running the heat or the air conditioning makes no sense at all. He is correct. Except that I love fresh air that much, especially when it gusts inside and makes you feel like you are out in a forest. Of course, in the heat of July or the dead of winter, my infatuation with fresh air bows to sanity and the window is shut until March or April, when the temptation to crack it just a little hits again.)

...So windy that we spend the breakfast minutes staring at leaves, branches, spent flowers, swaying, moving, flying about outside.


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...So windy that I abandon any idea of biking anywhere today. Good weather to stay rooted at the table with my work.


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So windy and yet...

...this is the day that I decide to go out on the porch roof to sweep off the leaves. Why? Well now, that's a hard question to answer. Ed suggests that I wait until all the leaves have fallen (or not bother with any of it), but I want to develop a feel for the project: I am only allowed to step on the strips of wood (which are clamped over beams). How does that feel?  Will it be easy to sweep off snow? And so I step out. Through the bathroom window.

My, it's windy up here!


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...But good! And there's a reason to clear and clean those glass panes -- Ed finishes putting up our chain of lights.


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You want them year round, don't you?
Uh huh!


Our farmhouse is ready for the long winter.

In other news, well, you know the scoop on a Monday (or Tuesday, or Wednesday) -- there is no other news. Plenty of work instead.

...and a supper of cabbage/potato/kohlrabi soup.


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And after dinner, I head for a talk at our local library -- interesting, sure, that, but what I want to show off here is the utter deliciousness of the finished porch project. Built, painted and now twinkling away forever and ever...


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7 comments:

  1. I love it, and I'm with you on open windows. Just today I opened our back door to let in fresh air, even though the air heads straight toward our thermostat, kicking on the heat! In the spring, I start cracking windows when it's about 35!

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  2. We crack ours through the winter (when we are up north), loving that fresh blast of cold air. I close the bedroom door, thinking a little less loss of heat (but I doubt it). Love your lighted porch.

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  3. I sleep with the head of my bed just under the windowsill and I open my 2 windows every night, shut the door to the hall, and bask in the coolness all night. I also turn the thermostat way down before going up to bed so it won't kick on much in the night. By morning, it's almost like the North Pole in here.

    What would happen if you actually stepped onto one of those glass roof panels? That is so scary, up there... I would just point a leaf blower up there and blow those pesky leaves away!

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  4. I am with Bex: I'd stand in the bathroom, open the window, and point a leaf blower outside. Plus, once you start with the glass roof cleaning, there is no end. Nice twinkly look with the lights.

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  5. When I was a kid in Chicago, living in the home of my Polish Immigrant grandparents, I always opened my bedroom window a crack at night. All winter long! I loved that crisp fresh air on my face. The storm window, with its wooden frame, was designed with a little flap that could be flipped open just for people like me. It's one of my favorite childhood memories.

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  6. A quick response -- if I stepped on the glass, it may hold up. It should hold up. I surely would hate it if it didn't hold up. So I avoid it.

    It's true that pushing off leaves can become addictive. And we don't *have* to do it. But, once or twice in the fall, just to keep things more or less clear is right now a small chore with visible benefits. Though it could be that I am just tickled with the roof enough to care now and I wont case so much in the future!

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  7. Ah, thank you Phyllis, for the memory of the flap on wooden storm windows.

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