I had half hoped for a peaceful transition: from the strange almost summer like weather of the past week, to the usual settling in of what should come now -- winter. No such thing. A violent storm erupted in the afternoon and for a while we were smack in the middle of a tornado watch. I had never before heard of a tornado watch in November.
Typically, this is a transition month in the upper Midwest. We use it to push away thoughts of gardens and growing things and color and light and accept the reality of winter. But this year, of course, we were tricked. Promises of endless sunshine and balmy breezes, enough to make you believe that winter is unnecessary. That maybe we can get away without it. We deserve a break, no?
No. Wisconsin has four seasons and cheating your way until summer gives superficial pleasure, but if it lasts too long, that disturbance ripples through the natural world in ways that cause more harm than good.
It's not quite November cold today, but we're moving in that direction.
(A quick morning walk in a light drizzle. The five cats look like they're ganging up on poor old Tomato, but it's just not so. The cats and cheepers all give each other plenty of space.)
Still, we manage to carve out a porch breakfast one last time.
And the rains pause long enough for me to climb out on the porch roof once more, to sweep away the maple leaves that would mound on top if left alone through the rains and the snows that are sure to come. (The roof is at its loveliest if it is cleared of spring pollen, fall leaves, and deep winter snows, though of course, you can do nothing and it will still carry on, like a brave if battered soldier, never for a minute giving up the good fight against the elements.)
And then we settle in and take up our various indoor tasks, waiting for the storms to pass and for the cooler air to take over in the next day or two.
Of course, my step tally suffers. I'd managed to maintain my "10 thou" daily goal since October 1st (is this a brag? I suppose so. Sorry!), but dismal wet days do nothing for my count. It's back to the treadmill. With my kindle. I can handle that!
In the evening I cook up a pot of soup. My CSA brought in bunches of kale and I have enough onions to last me nearly all winter. Add some other veggies and Cannellini beans, squirt a lemon, sprinkle with grated Parmesan and you've got yourself a warm meal! With a salad, because, well, that's our other habit: always the salad, these days with the radishes and carrots and cukes and avocado that inevitably crowd the veggies drawers of our fridge.
As the soup simmers, I have this very welcome interlude! (Primrose, too, is eating soup. With a sandwich.)
Storms do pass. They always do. You're grateful when there's no damage, when you come out of it all head still on shoulders, house still standing.
Then you pop that corn, light that candle and... well, you know the rest.
With love...
