
Well - it's looking like we're going to have a green Christmas here in New York's Hudson Valley.
It's weird - like we were suddenly transported back to our neighborhood in the San Francisco Bay Area where December weather meant 50-60 degrees, some rain - and many occasions to still be outside in shirt sleeves.
Honestly - it's a little depressing.
The funny part is, however, that it's no longer the whole tinkly, Bing Crosby, White Christmas, Currier and Ives holiday squooshiness that is getting me down.
Oh - there's a little. I don't think I'll ever outgrow the desire to look out the window on Christmas Eve and see snowflakes quietly cascading down, mixing with the neighbors' holiday lights to create a picture postcard setting for the following morning.
Now it's mostly the practical that gets me.
I'd like to go skiing this winter. However, I have no desire to share half a dozen manufactured-snow covered slopes with the general public while I fall, tumble and careen into things. I prefer to have lots of green trails open where I can experience my winter sports shame in relative obscurity.
I've also been observed standing on my front porch a lot this winter, staring intently at the mostly grass-covered lawn (I say mostly, because unlike some of my neighbors, I really don't care if what covers my lawn is technically "grass" - if it is fairly attractive, non-poisonous and can be mowed regularly - I'm a happy camper.) and quietly cursing.
I know that without the freeze of winter - and months of snow covering the ground - the grubs will not die. This means two things;
- Round about April, my lawn will once again be adopted as the Country Kitchen All-You-Can-Eat white trash buffet by every skunk in the neighborhood. They will dig up my lawn and void their glands every evening when they feel threatened. In fact, we have a Don Knotts-variety, Mr. Chicken Skunk in the 'hood who appears to feel threatened by such major events as changes in wind speed and the rotation of the planet. Or he's just a punk and sprays every night just to hear B bitch. (altho - it helps mask the odor of the Dollar Store white trash camel-dung cigarettes our neighbors smoke by the carton on their front porch)
- Japanese Beetles. I will once again spend the Spring and Summer defending our roses with a jar of kerosene and two small blocks of wood. The former is for knocking them off the roses into a toxic jacuzzi of certain death. The latter is in case they a) miss the jar and must therefore be stopped, or b) act aggressively to prevent their death, running up my arm and making me scream like a little girl.
And I'm worried about the squirrels. I am very frightened, in fact.
Thanks to the wealth of stately, older trees in the neighborhood - especially our neighbor's two HUGE Oak trees - we have LOTS of squirrels in the neighborhood.
And they aren't looking so good right now...they've gone through their Autumnal harvest of destruction, digging thousands of divots in my yard to plant acorns that they will never remember (apparently this is common among squirrels) , sprouting baby Oak trees all over my lawn and adding yet another element to the rich tapestry that is my "grass."
But they look...I don't know...ratty. And spooky. Like they're sleep-deprived and jacked up on some kind of Squirrel coffee or something. I'm seeing fewer and fewer bushy tails - like their hair is falling out due to stress, making them even more rat-like in appearance
And they aren't "scampering and cavorting" as much as they are attacking each other and running under cars with a dazed, confused look like a seagull who has gotten into the anti-freeze again.
I think they need to hibernate, like we need to sleep. But you just know that some of these poor squirrels are going home to their knot in the tree, only to be met by some p.o'd squirrel significant other who will immediately start harping on them.
"Why are you inside, lazing about when you could be out providing for this family?!? Why don't you get your fuzzy arse out there and try to find some of those acorns you buried when you and your buddies were out on a drunk? HUH? No wonder you can't remember where you buried them, you loser! Probably too busy drinking anti-freeze and joking with your buddies about going skunk-tipping in the Spring!! ANSWER ME!!!" No wonder they run under cars. Poor bastards.