I’m trying to write this blog post and Fozzy (the cat) is sitting on my lap and, while it’s adorable and not exactly distracting, it’s limiting my options, motion-wise. I’ve been through five starts to this post, which probably won’t be longer than 300 words, probably never was going to be longer than 300 words because I’ve clearly gotten over the “writing about nothing” for Summing Up. I’ve never been clear exactly if a post about nothing–though still at least intentionally exercising the form of that post–is navel-gazing.
I don’t care because I’m almost at 100 words.
According to WriteRoom that “100” above is the hundredth word. Wokka wokka.
I don’t think I’ve had a winter for two years. I’m trying to remember when I bought the electric snowblower and I think it was two years (I used it once last year but there was so little snow it wasn’t worth the extension cord hassle). The “joke” of winter last year is I slid off the road in the one significant snow storm. And it wasn’t even too bad. Not like this year, which has had two bad snows. Bad enough to shovel twice snows. Early first shovel, getting the overnight snow, then the later easier shovel to clear the latest.
I hate snow. It’s pretty, beautiful, whatever, but it’s still snow and it still makes things more difficult. Winters without snow are definitely weird, especially with temperatures in the forties, but winters with snow are rather difficult. It makes things unpleasant. Normal, mundane things get unpleasant because of snow. Cold alone isn’t enough. It’s got to be snow.
To navel-gaze–abnormal visual absence really hits for me, memory-wise. Snow you’ve got the normal covered. Nighttime you’ve got the normal obscured or absent. Ditto fog. Rain obscured. Though thunder storms are great for getting a completely different look to things. It’s like a crisp green light versus grey from overcast. Though I’m colorblind enough I have no idea what I mean by crisp green. I dig the zoo or botanic gardens lights thing. Even without snow, it’s a different way of seeing the “ordinary.”
When snow becomes the ordinary though… yuck.