Day 127/365 It’s time to go, cross-country skis

 

      These skis have got to be more than thirty years old, and it’s been about that long since we used them. As far as I know, they will be sold at the June yard sale at my daughters. Is it fair that we’re unloading our garage and filling up hers?  

Day 126/365 It’s time to go, snow

  I don’t know if this is a January thaw because I don’t think we have experienced a January freeze. Regardless, the first snow of the season has left us, and thank goodness more is forecast because I’m looking forward to more snow. I want to get my money’s worth from each season.

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    With the exception of the skiers, I‘m in the minority on this one. It seems that whenever the topic of weather comes up, people speak in a derogatory way about cold and snow. I’m doing my best to stay in the NOW and the NOW is January in New England.

     Um, maybe I should call this something like, “It’s time to go, wishing the seasons away.”

Day 125/365 It’s time to go, newspapers

 

I could write about this every three weeks or so, but how interesting would that be? Well, sometimes the newspapers are interesting (we get the Boston Globe and the Wall Street Journal every day), but we have to get rid of them, fascinating or not. A few pages help start the woodstove each afternoon, but the rest get recycled at the dump. First they pile up on the kitchen table where they are read each morning, next on the stool in the mudroom, and finally on the backseat of my husband’s car, the car with the dump sticker. Off he goes, off they go. 

Day 124/365 It’s time to go, rotten tree

 

 

    This is an easy one, letting go of a rotten tree before it falls on your house. According to our neighbor, it took two years for the tree surgeon to keep the appointment. But finally, before it was too late, he arrived one morning in December and in forty-five minutes he was on his way with a truck full of wood chips and another loaded with logs. He arrived with four men who tended to the branches as they were gently lowered down; he came with a truck that gobbled and chewed up the branches; he came with a policeman to direct the traffic and protect the innocent.

  Before we were able to ask for the firewood, he and his trucks and his woodchips went away. And so did the policeman.