Dark and Cold

Only two weeks since setting the clocks back an hour. It's still dark when I make my first cup of coffee and retrieve the newspaper from the end of the driveway.  Most mornings there's a poor soul walking the dog amid the dawn chill.  They have playtime later but some probably have second thoughts about their obligations to their Best Friend.  My own short stroll outdoors remains brief, too brief to justify adding to my night clothing.  With poor light, I've not been dumping the recycling en route to the newspaper, as it is not always obvious which is the bin with the green lid.

Which deters me more, the dark or the cold?  Probably the dark. It should be chilly this season.  That's what keeps my geographic setting invigorating.  I should not need supplemental illumination at my usual waking time ever.  That is how our brains and sleep patterns evolved.  The cycles of nature include sunrise, sunset, and seasons.  Definition of when we should be up and about based on a clock that drives a consistent wake time sometimes runs contrary to the mechanisms that we have to best cope with the world.

I expect it to get darker and colder as we move from fall into winter.  I could change my wake time, as my personal schedule in retirement has few external contingencies, but responding to that 6:30AM buzz on my left wrist irrespective of how I feel that morning has helped enormously in framing the day that follows it.  I could delay retrieving the paper until dawn has progressed sufficiently to let me put the recycling in the proper receptacle at the same time.  As Thanksgiving approaches, I could express appreciation for my schedule that part of each year allows me to partake of the transition from night to day.

Soon the temperature will fall below freezing.  Outdoor containers may need to spend their nights indoors.  The strolling dogs and their owners may be in more of a hurry to get the business done quickly, with exercise and playtime expanded indoors.  The newspaper will still arrive each morning, with its obligatory retrieval while the first k-cup brews.  And it will be even darker and colder.

Plodding Towards Winter

Been sleeping through my wrist alarm a couple of times this week.  The buzz seems less jolting, even when it arrives when I am already awake, too weak to interrupt my final snooze if I am not already awake.  When buzz appreciated I get up.  Looking out the window it's dark.  Retrieving the newspaper from the end of the driveway, it is not only dark but with a chill.  When I sleep through the signal, when I look to the window, light has begun.  My biological clock runs a little differently than my exogenous electronic reminder, though I tend to adapt quickly, perhaps even have a better day when I arise in response to the smartwatch.  

This is the final shabbos on Daylight Saving's Time for the season.  During my work years, I would make chicken before heading to work on Friday mornings during Standard Time.  I still might, though being retired, I could allot time for this in the late afternoon.  It seems better just to have it all done, awaiting assembly on a suitably set shabbos table, as candle lighting precedes customary meal times.  

My plants need some consideration.  I've mostly set the outdoor gardens for winter, plucking all plants but rosemary, sage, and parsley.  They can take their chances though I may cover the rosemary.  Front entrance containers leave me more options.  Next year my herbs will only be in containers except for sage and rosemary which do better in the backyard beds.  Those square foot gardens, whether or not they remain square foot patterns or go back to rows, will be allotted to vegetables.  Container mints seem indestructible.  Don't know about chives, which still look straggly enough to replant next year in a container with better drainage.  Parsley grows easily and can be replanted.  Container sage did not grow large enough to harvest.  Dill and thyme could have done better.  Maybe just leave them to nature and try again next spring.  

And then there's the snow blower.  A must this year, as it failed the one time I needed it.  My ability to use a snow shovel safely has passed.  I'm even willing to follow the repair suggestions on the internet or have it revived professionally.  Not willing, yet, to purchase and assemble a new one.

Winter clothing has been transferred except for the wooly hats and gloves.  And next week, Standard Time, the wrist alarm matches window daylight.

Cold Snap

It's been more wintry this year than last, when it didn't snow at all.  I had made a brief trip to the Poconos about this time last year, trying some snow tubing that got a little slushy and Aquatopia Indoor Water Park that had a tolerable heated outdoor nook with just the right interface of warm water and cool air.  No travel this year due to the Covid pandemic.  Already we've had two snow episodes, neither beyond my shoveling capacity, which is just as well as I've not been able to start the snow blower.  Our two snows came with the ambient temperature just about at the interface of water and ice but once the snow has been cleared from everyplace except lawns and roofs, we have a more significant temperature drop.

Most mornings, still wearing flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt, I go to the edge of our driveway, usually to retrieve the newspaper that my wife likes to read, but sometimes to put mail into our mailbox or deposit a full box of recycling in the olive topped bin.  For the last two sessions, it's been discernably freezing, though not beyond my capacity to finish the brief chores without additional clothing.  Later in the day I typically have an errand or two, or even create an excuse to leave the house, even if a brief drive to nowhere.  With modern ignition systems, the car always starts with no difficulty, though it can take a few minutes for the climate control to warm the interior to its settings.  This time I have a coat, usually a red nylon ski parka with a beanie insulated cap.  Gloves are either kept in the pocket or the front seat of the car, though rarely worn.  Earmuffs also have a home in the car, though this year can be a little problematic coordinating with the often required oral-nasal mask.  But I rarely exit the car for more than the distance between my front house door and front car door or the parking lot and store entrance.  No ice fishing for me.  As much as I want to become more proficient with my camera for which the winter offers an opportunity, the cold gets the better of me.  But it is still bright and sunny to drive around.