Posts Tagged ‘winter wear’
Chopper Mittens
This morning, I tried describing a dream I just had so that Cyndie could share in the experience. Of course, the deep drama I had witnessed and felt as if it was actually happening was not adequately conveyed by my words. My struggle to express the dream’s intricacies revealed a glimpse of the monumental difference of what telepathic communication must be like. I quickly realized that each moment in the dream encompassed more impressions and thoughts than my words were able to recreate.
We think and feel a lot faster than words can express. It’s why a picture is worth a thousand words. Visualization is better than verbalization.
Have I described how phenomenally great chopper mittens are for the outdoor winter activities I undertake? If you are unfamiliar with chopper mittens, I could describe them to you, but let me offer this so you can visualize them:
I have tried a variety of other versions, but none compare to the perfection of the original, right down to the knitted inner mitten. I don’t know what makes that liner different (better) than any other new fandangled water-wicking Thinsulate® version I’ve experimented with, but, for me, it falls under the idiom, ‘some things can’t be improved.’
Somewhat counterintuitively, the floppy looseness of the mitten fit is a feature, not a flaw. Being able to pull my bare hand out quickly and easily to accomplish a task that requires ultimate dexterity, and then slip it back in with equal ease, is like having a superpower.
If the mittens get wet from heavy use in the snow, pulling the inner mitten out when I get back indoors allows them to dry quickly and be ready to go, as good as new in no time. If they get too wet, or I need to go back outside before they are dry enough, a second pair is more than worth the money spent.
If you aren’t able to telepathically perceive the unmitigated amount of satisfaction I get from the original chopper mittens, you are only getting a fraction of the perception of how great they are through my written words. Trust me.
Thinking about communicating in words, it occurs to me that, even though using words to describe something falls short of what our minds can do in an instant, I am fond of written communication because it gives me time to construct my thoughts more adeptly than I can do on the fly if I were speaking to you directly.
I suppose that is why, after some 16+ years, I have never felt an urge to transition from blogging to vlogging or podcasting.
Will we someday come up with a word for telepathically sharing our take on things and experiences? Telelogging? Telecasting is too conventional and already in use. It’s not wrong, though.
Since I’m already beaming love to you all telepathically, maybe you can tune in other intricacies my words are incapable of including. You won’t believe this dream I experienced early this morning…
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Feeling Wintry
In case you were wondering what the most recent blast of winter weather was like for us on Tuesday and Wednesday, I present the following that it inspired me to create:
Recipe to make an otherwise beautiful event of falling snowflakes into an angry blast of epic proportions:
- One afternoon of misting rain
- A few hours of actual raindrops
- Cold but not freezing air temperatures
- A few hours of mixed precipitation of rain/sleet/snow
- One large blast of a below-freezing air mass
- A constant 25 mph gale out of the Northwest
- An infinite number of snowflakes of various shapes and sizes
Add the above ingredients in the order listed for the duration indicated. For greatest impact, extend the overall event for longer hours to increase the amount of angry blast desired. To add some *icing* to this cake, don’t allow the sun to be visible for weeks after the storm has passed.
I admit that I got a little carried away with the last line. Overstating the part about not being able to see the sun for weeks is just being rancorous. In reality, we enjoyed a decent mix of scattered sunshine yesterday afternoon. The angry blast of wintry weather turned out to be far short of epic.
We have removed blankets from the horses, and they are showing every indication of being perfectly adjusted to the arrival of the snow and cold.
I pulled out my winter boots and insulated Carhartt overalls to wear while the snow was flying in the gale-force winds, but I need to retrain myself on the intricacies of getting in and out of my winter “spacesuit.”
It’s safe to say that the switch has been flipped, taking us from the genteel conditions of a mild autumn into the harsh reality of winter in the north.
Another Saturday
Another Saturday morning when I get to choose what will get my attention. It’s hard to ignore the most prominent fact imposing its way over almost everything we pick. Our weather has entered a cold spell. In our region, winter cold spells mean below zero Fahrenheit. Not quite polar region craziness of 70-below, but days of any number below-zero bitter cold might as well have the same impact.
Preparing to exit the home module for any length of time involves donning garb that rivals climbing into a spacesuit. If you don’t like wearing a facemask for protection from spreading the coronavirus, you won’t like going outside today.
Delilah paces semi-patiently at the front door while we methodically navigate the fine art of adding multiple layers of apparel and accessories in precise order. She takes several slurps from her water bowl in preparation for the impending outing.
It occurred to me this morning that, if we didn’t have a dog or chickens, we wouldn’t need to get out of bed and go outside when it is so wickedly cold. Some people don’t have to go outside if they don’t want to. I didn’t want to go outside, but I didn’t mind that we had to.
The snow squeaked under our boot steps. Eyelashes occasionally stick together as they frost up. Moving air starts to sting exposed flesh. Every few steps, Delilah will keep one paw up and hop once or twice to give that foot a break from contacting the snow. She emphatically rejected our several attempts in the past to offer her winter booties.
The chickens seemed nonplussed by the harsh conditions. We added some extra straw to the coop and installed a radiant heat source to ease their burden a little bit. They seemed to be demonstrating their winter hardiness, as advertised for our variety of breeds.
Accomplishing our goals with minimal distractions allowed us to promptly return to the safe warmth of our spaceship where Cyndie prepared an omelet for breakfast that rivaled a 3-star chef’s and I ignited an inspiring fire in the fireplace.
I am leaving the decision for later about whether I will interrupt my indoor endorphin-producing hobbies to go outside and finish clearing the snow off the deck that I pulled down off the roof eaves yesterday.
It’s Saturday. Morning cartoons, hot cocoa, snuggling under a blanket, giggling with family, listening to music, reading a book, writing inspirations, laughing at our foibles, assembling a puzzle, staring at the fire, it’s the best day of the week type of stuff.
Baby, it’s cold outside, but that is just the way things go sometimes.
There are plenty of ways to cope and we are going to employ several of them and enjoy this Saturday to the fullest. I invite you to do the same, whether you are experiencing a polar vortex or reside somewhere closer to the equator than we do.
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