Snow Daze

Ahhh, yes.

It's mid-February, the most hap-hap-happiest time of the year.  I hope my facetiousness is shining through bright and clear.

(And I have no clue why I'm breaking into rhyme, but I'm blaming the weather for my insanity).

(And what, pray tell, is a street sign doing out in the middle of a field?  Why, it's a marker to indicate the snow mobile path).

We had another big dumping of snow last Friday.  It was tame compared to what most of the East Coast got, yet it was still a prohibitive amount even by our standards.  By this time, we have so much snow accumulation, we go outside with fists raised when it starts to snow, and yell, "Bring it on, bring it ON".

Talking to the elements is generally the first symptom of Cabin Fever.  It's all downhill from here, skis optional.

All joking aside, this winter feels interminable.  For the first time, we've actually uttered the words, "We should sell the farm, move some place warm, some place mild...temperate...sunny", as our voices trail off.

Believe me when I say I revel in the change of seasons.  I love spring, summer, fall...and...wait for it...winter.  But this year, we've had a prohibitively cold winter.  A snowy winter.  A windy winter.  This morning, it was -8C and it was RAINING - the kind of rain that hits your windshield and freezes instantly.  The only antidote is to crank your car heater full-bore, super-heating your car to ensure you can look out the windshield.  Of course, you're in your winter regalia:  a down coat, a sweater, a muffler wrapped three time around your neck, and a pair of shearling gloves.  You reach your destination stifled, over-heated and parched, silently cursing this infernal season.

Ahhh, winter.

The cats are fed-up.  The dog is depressed.  I'm suffering what I've termed BWS:  the dreaded Beached Whale Syndrome.  (I can safely diagnose Tessie with the same illness above).  I am in love with the sofa, the wood stove, and have been eating myself into a chocolate-induced stupor.  Next stop: scurvy.

I don't know what the antidote is.  Maybe it would be a week down south.  Maybe it would pass if I didn't have to leave the house until April.  I went out for a nice long walk with Cooper yesterday, about 6 kilometers over the fields.  It was beautiful outside, but when I got back, I felt like I'd over-done it.

This morning, even Cooper stood at the top of the stairs and let out a long, protracted high-pitched whine, the kind he makes when he's hurting.  I know just how he feels.  I felt the same way, buddy.

Ahhh, winter.

I'm going to take a cue from BobCat and Schatzie, and go find myself a warm sweater, a warm spot and a sunbeam, and roll with Mother Nature's punches.

A Tale of Two Kitties

We're all well aware that the dreaded cat version of Cabin Fever is rampant and contagious here.  BobCat needs a major nudge to get out the door, and isn't convinced that the same meteorological outcome is behind both the front door and the sliding door in the kitchen.  If there's ever been a cat who's looking forward to spring, it's the Bobberizer.

Here Bob is on the path to the front door, looking up while watching the snow slide from our metal roof.

He had this very intent look on his face, and kept ducking down slowly as the snow fell in sheets from the roof.  I love how one of his ears is always a bit off-kilter; it's like a little radar that rotates to the source of sound before his head has to move.

Weenie Popeenie has decided she loves the bathroom sink.  She loves water, and especially dripping water.  Good thing she can't open the faucets - yet!

I don't know why it has to be the bathroom sink, maybe it's the finish or the form or the warmth of the porcelain, but she can be found having her evening nap in the sink most days.  She also fights me for the hot-water bottle I take to bed every night.  She's quite the little diva, and of course we indulge her many little whims.  How can you resist an angelic little face like that?

Cabin Fever, Cat-Style

It's -20C outside.  BobCat and The Poppet aren't going outside in these temps, and invariably, cabin fever kicks in.  Here's a blow-by-blow account:

Stealth cats sees you...

If I can't see your eyes, can you still see me?

(Momentary distraction, tractor driving by...)

THWACK THWACK THWACK

I'm so frightnin', fast as lightnin'

I've had enough.  I am cat, hear me snore.

Uh, Bob, we weren't done yet...

Uh, Bobby?  Come back here!

And so it goes, day in, day out.

Cabin fever, cat-style, proudly presented by BobCat and The Poppet.