Red Boots, A Blizzard Warning, and Mercedes Limousines

Purrrl, who can tell time, woke me up with gentle paw taps at 6:00 so that I could get ready for work. Purrrl did not know that the blizzard outside had already inspired work to be cancelled. When she woke me, I had been dreaming that I was in Cape May, carrying around a fat Psychology textbook with Hannah Arendt on the cover, and the neighbors I hardly knew were trying to get me to drive them somewhere in my fictitious extra-long vintage Mercedes. I didn't know where they had to go, but I had to get to class and I was frightened of them. Perhaps Purrrl woke me up because she could sense that I was in distress. I've never seen one of these while awake, but they do exist, with three rows of seats just like in my dream!

Purrrl and I walked into the kitchen where the tiny ice pellets from the storm were hitting that window with a racket much louder than the bedroom. Maybe that's what had Purrrl concerned. Cats act crazy during storms. Once I was fully awake, she settled down, and we both found our spots in the living room. I recognized the Psychology book from the dream. It was actually my thick World War II history book that I'm reading for a trip I'm taking in May. Instead of Arendt on the cover it shows two lines of soldiers trudging through snow in helmets on their heads and masks over their mouths and noses. I don't know why I wasn't carrying the actual book in the dream or why it was Psychology. I never studied Psychology (formally) for more than a semester, and I never studied Hannah Arendt at all. (Maybe she appeared because I'm currently binge-watching Transparent, and the Pfefferman Family is Jewish. I would be surprised if I made that connection, even subconsciously.)

The storm was supposed to be a big deal. We were supposed to get 10-18 inches, or 8-14", but what actually happened is that the snow alternated with ice and what we have now is a highly compact eight inches of heavy slushy stuff which the meteorologists say will freeze overnight and make travel tomorrow treacherous at least until it melts back to slush. I saw a stray cat walking across the back yard on top of the snow, and wouldn't you know, even twenty-pound Gladys could walk on top of it when we ventured out in the afternoon. Here's the proof:

It's as if she walked through a layer of thick dust.

I wanted to feed the birds, so Fred, Gladys, and I walked outside after watching a documentary about the Vikings. We felt adventurous. The birds got fed although the feeders had ice and snow in them and we couldn't get it all out.

We couldn't see it from inside, but tiny ice pellets were shooting out of the sky still. We didn't mean to linger long, but I wanted to shoot some photos and try out my new red boots, and Fred wanted to dig a canal next to the curb so that the melting slush can drain down into the rain grate which happens to be in front of my house. Gladys was in no hurry to go inside (she has that double coat from her ancestors' days on the Shetland Islands where Vikings explored) and seems to be suggesting a backyard picnic.

The red boots worked, and I was glad to finally have the chance to test them out. I think I bought them back in the fall. I ALWAYS wanted a pair of these:

I took some snowy photos...

A corner of Spring Lake (Hamilton-Trenton Marsh) and Sturgeon Lake beyond (from my back yard)

Another view of the frozen Marsh

And one more (this was a big reason why I bought this house 23 years ago.)

There have been some casualties:

Daffodil cadavers (I wish I would have thought to cut these before the cold weather returned.)

And then there's the pussy willow tree I grew from a stick that a lady gave me years ago at the public library. This tree is a source of pride for me and even made it into one of my essays because it looks like Hawthorne fairy trees I saw in Connemara, Ireland. And it happens to be in my Fairy Garden. Coincidentally. Or not.