This morning, this afternoon, and tomorrow

Another pancake breakfast this morning, this time in Geauga County, home of real pancakes, real butter and real maple syrup. Good sausages, too.

My daughter Beth, her mother and her husband here. Beth broke a lot of her arm last December, in an awful fall. It's not progressing as well as could it should, but she's a long way from where she started.

We all futility waved  the refill sign around, until Francis took the matter under his six foot charge.

Beth, her mother and her mother-in-law. You remember Grandma Ruth. There is no picture of Caroline and Laura today; they tend to move as unit when together, and fade in and out of sight.

Back home this afternoon, here is Toby, attempting to recover from springing ahead for daylight savings. I took a bit of a nap before supper, too.

I sewed two more quilt tops this afternoon, and Laura put several more together, before retreating to her room to exercise her thumbs.

The winter storm forecast starting tomorrow afternoon is now up to 9" of snow. I'm beginning to take this personally.

Stormy weather

The rain and wind commenced Wednesday, early.  It seems I'd only just heard Laura leave when a clap of thunder rattled everything. I looked at the clock to see if I should get my sorry self up to the bus stop, but, fortunately, it was 6:40, and the bus better have left.

I got to work early, to get payroll done, the rest of the bills paid, and everything in order for the night's board meeting. I had a project to finish at the house before the 1 pm knitting group meeting. That project did not happen because the electricity went out. It had stopped raining, so we neighbors commiserated up and down the street about the state of utilities, until the chilly air drove us in for warmth.

But, there is no warmth inside with no electricity to circulate it around the house. I decided to go to work to keep warm. Kendall Road, down into the valley, was closed near the top. Not a good sign. I turned around and went down SR 303.

The first clue was there at the bottom, in Peninsula. The traffic lights were swinging wildly in the wind, and not working. Most of us were politely making a four way stop of the intersection, but in waiting my turn, I counted more than a few had no idea why the car in front stopped, and went on through the intersection with them.

At the town hall, at 303 and Riverview, Riverview was closed. There was no problem apparent in the few hundred feet to the town hall drive, so I squooze the car past the barricade and went on down. One garage door was open, so I moseyed on in there to hear the latest. The road crew was just in from clearing roads of fallen trees, and it did not look good.

I came home and took a nap until time to pick up Laura from book club. The power was on in Hudson. I think the sun was shining, too. Laura and I went to a restaurant for supper, because you cannot cook in an all electric house with no electric. 

My neighbor texted me; the power was back in my little house on top of the hill. I texted the road super, expecting the same. However, no power in the valley. No word from the powers that be cancelling the meeting, though, and I went back down.

Our meeting was not cancelled, though it was among our shortest in my thirteen years. This morning the road super texted me, "Don't rush down here. Still no power." I didn't rush, but I did go, to get the bills in envelopes and mailed while there was sunlight to see. I still had to rig up a flash light to see well.

On my way home, behind a county road crew. The fellow by the middle truck swore at me as he waved me around. Road crews probably have not been to bed in the last 36 hours. That middle truck lifts tree trunks up and off the road.

Like this one, further up the road. Look at all the scrape marks across the pavement, to the other side. The winds were up to sixty mph, I read in today's paper.

Pancakes, snow and art

Pancake breakfast season is upon us again. I wonder how many organizations I could name that do not have a pancake fundraiser. And, so, it was the Hudson High School Parent Teacher Organization's event yesterday. Laura and I were in the crowd.

A sign at the door announced all pancakes were gluten free. In addition, all pancakes were donated by the local Perkins Pancake franchise, as were the accompanying sausages. 

Factory pancakes, re-heated in a steam unit, served over two questionable sausages. At the table, imitation butter and syrup. But, the coffee was real, and my $16 probably is well spent. We left the deafening cafeteria for the quieter student art exhibit in the gym.

There was a lot of good art on display, but these bowls held my attention. My mother would have loved these. All those church bulletins and colorful magazine pages she could have kept from the landfill.

Perhaps in my dotage I will look into the rolled paper art form and make all presents in-house.

This structure is at the end of one of the exits of the high school, and is where I pick Laura up after school, if she needs picked up. They call it The Gazebo. Ours is not to question, etc. I liked the lace edging the melting snow commenced making.

This morning the snow on my neighbor's roof caught my eye. Each section of his tin roof is sending down a a distinct unit of snow.

Weather, whether or not, and the spring band concert

 Counting Emily and Hamilton, I am approaching two dozen band concerts. Last night, another one.

She's spotted me. The stink eye.

"Take the picture I'm smiling for!"

Laura has been in band since fifth grade. Her band director reminded me of Uncle Tom playing the part of the Old Grey Goose at her first concert. 

I continue to be amazed at the discipline of band. As soon as the conductor stands by the podium, it's all eyes front, instruments ready.

When we left the concert, the snow had begun. It was falling hard, and looked exactly like it would be the two to three inches our road super was loading up for Thursday afternoon.

When I left for the gym, at 9:30, Laura had cleared the porch and steps, a path around the car, and swept the windshield clean of snow. The ice scraper is in the car and it's locked, so she has a pass, though I remain amazed at the responsibility she assumes with no asking. Perhaps you see, it has begun snowing again, in the picture. In the fifteen minutes it took me to clear the windows and leave, we were in a deep squall.

When I got home at 12:30, the porch and steps were full and drifted. I didn't stop to clean them; all I wanted was dry shoes and socks. It's been snowing all this time, so we need to do some work tonight, so we can go out in the morning.

I stopped at the river today, on my travels, and took this "color" photo of the black and white world. I must remember to ask if that small rill in the bend of the river is a natural formation or the residual of an old dam or bridge.

In like a lion

I seem to be on a whippersnapper rant of late. After hours on hold to enroll the township bank account in on-line access, and another two hours of staring down a bank manager, yesterday I pulled the February bank statement. There were no copies of checks. The bank told me to call my account manager. I’ve left him two voice messages to date. Townships are required to have copies of all cancelled checks. Don’t ask why.

There was meeting in February for instructions on reporting the township’s waste. Don’t ask. 

It’s called the SummitAkronSolidWasteManagementAuthority. Tim and I used to call it Sa-swampa. It’s a quasi-governmental authority. They collect fifty cents per ton from all waste haulers operating in the county (Summit), and redistribute it to foster recycling. Every municipality receives a “grant” based on population. There is a not too complicated application involved, and an on-line report no one understands, including the people who run Sa-swampa.

I have not attended the mandatory meeting for the last several years because I cannot walk the approximately one mile from parking to the meeting and back again. Last year all the old employees of Sa-swampa retired, and new whippersnappers came in. I de-RSVPed the meeting. I downloaded, completed and sent in the application for our $707. I assembled our waste hauler information for last year. I called Sa-swampa, because I refuse to attempt this report unaided.

There is a new whippersnapper in charge of a new form. We both struggled. In my defense, it is her form, not mine. At some point she icily informed me “this is why we encourage you to come to the meeting.” Long pause as I attempted to regain my composure, but I failed. “You do know I cannot walk,” I replied in an equally uncivil tone.  She struggled on. In the end the form was submitted incomplete. She was crying. I didn’t care.

Oh, did I mention the tornado in the middle of the night as March first dawned. For thirty years I lived in a house with a basement dug into the side of a hill, and missed the only tornado, in 1988, because I was driving in it. Now I live in a trailer!

I knew this one could happen, and I slept restlessly, waiting for it. I listened to awful wind and wondered if my rain barrel would survive. I heard raindrops hit it like sling shotted rocks. At 5:45 my storm alert blasted me out of bed. I turned on the local TV, with the same message. We went into Laura’s closet, with pillows.

K texted from the old house, “Tornado warning. Want to come over?” I answered we were staying in the closet, it was that imminent. Straight line winds in the sixty mile per hour range raged past. The all clear was 6:30. We got dressed and went our ways to school and work.  Note to the future: next time go to the bathroom first. The next 45 minutes will be far more comfortable.

February friends. I've sat in my car fifteen minutes at a time watching them. Sparrows don't disperse until I get out of the car and approach them.

Aconite at the library. I neglected to add aconite bulbs to my list last fall. Next spring I'll have them, too.