Symphony of Noise

The clocks tick, slightly out of time. tic TIC tic tic TIC tic TIC TIC tic tic tic TIC.

The dishwasher slubs through its cycle arythmically, its age readily apparent. Swoosh slub SLUB SWOOSH slub slub slub SLUB SLUB slub.

The noises overlap, moving over and under each other as I lie in bed waiting for sleep. They never quite meet each other, never manage to create a rhythm that's easy to listen to. They jar against each other and against the creaking of the old floorboards as the dog shifts her weight in sleep.

I dream that I am on a ship in a wonderland ocean dreamt up by a dozing Alice. The white rabbit is long gone—only echoes of his watch remain.

A Song

Sometimes lyrics strike me. I shall record them here.

"Tell me, where do I go when I'm homesick for the place that never felt like home?"
-Kelley McRae

Ice

Ice is many things: cold, smooth, treacherous. It is also beautiful, especially when, in freezing, it preserves its crystalline structure. Walking to work this morning, I was looking down, watching for ice and trip hazards (all too common on Brattleboro sidewalks). I saw the most beautiful pattern in a patch of ice, feathery lines forming small arcs fanning out from a central point. If you knit, and know the feather and fan lace pattern, you'll have an idea what I'm talking about.

I carefully sidestepped the ice to preserve its beauty and avoid slipping, and went on my way.

Mud

Mud smells. It doesn't smell good or bad, really, it just smells like mud. That smell means spring in Vermont. Sure, there may be another couple of snow storms between now and May, and the deep ruts on the dirt roads might freeze over, but spring is coming.

We take mud seriously around here. There's a whole season named after it, we devote entire rooms to its containment, and most folks have special shoes just for that glorious mix of soil and meltwater. Early spring mud is entirely different from late summer mud, too. It's stickier somehow, more likely to grab your shoe and refuse to let go.

I'm not generally a huge fan of mud season—it's a mess, it's usually quite gray, and I start to miss my cute shoes after a while. But I can't deny that the smell of mud gives me hope when it first appears in the spring.

Walks

Having a dog is good for many things, but especially for reminding you that the simple things can be the most exciting. Take walking, for example. If the word "walk" is mentioned at all within earshot of Zoe the Greyhound, a spasm of excitement ensues: jumping, wriggling, little noises of joy. Then we walk outside, and Zoe's nose goes into action. Everything must be sniffed and inspected. These days, that often involves Zoe buried up to her eyes in snow as she seeks out a spectacular scent.

Zoe reminds me that even a walk through very familiar territory can be an adventure, since nothing is ever the same, not really. Subtle changes happen every day, whether it's fresh snow, new mud, new buds on one particular tree, or evidence of the passing of another creature. The world around us is constantly changing, and we have only to notice.

A Cup of Tea

It's hard to get excited about Mondays, especially when a spring snow comes in on the heels of such warm weather. This is, in fact, the second snowy Monday in a row here in Brattleboro, and some of us are downright sick of it!

However, I am now ensconced at work with a small pot of tea and a beautiful teacup. These things make me feel slightly better about the weather outside. It's not much, but it's a start.

Sweeping

Good tools are always appreciated. Tools with the right heft, angles, sharpness, and materials always get jobs done faster and better than their cheap counterparts. Brooms are no exception. A well-made broom feels good in your hands and picks up dirt as well or better than a vacuum. For my house, a broom with synthetic bristles works best--the natural bristle brooms just aren't made with fine enough bristles anymore.

I prefer to sweep than use a vacuum. It's quieter, for one thing, and more rhythmic. The broom is more agile, getting into corners and the tops of baseboards and all sort of other places. It's also easier to clean out when it gets dirty.

I'm sure someone has written an ode to the broom, somewhere. Someday I'll find it.