Samhain Waning Thanksgiving Moon
“The one common experience of all humanity is the challenge of problems.” – R. Buckminster Fuller
Once again, awake. I know why this time. Over stimulation. The interview process at the Sierra Club has my head cranking over time, weighing this aspect and that, noodling out the implications, going over what ifs. I’m familiar with this kind of insomnia, it happened a lot when I worked for the Presbytery, particularly when I had several projects in the air all at the same time, which was the norm rather than the exception. Leaves my jaw a bit achy, not so good with my still healing wisdom teeth extraction.
This is my (now mild) neurosis at work, continuing to work over nuances, much like the front tires on the Celica last night, trying, trying, trying, but gaining no traction, spinning in place, unable to move forward and accomplishing nothing moving backward.
Added to the interviews, of course, was the commute home last night and my sling-shot derby trying to use momentum to move my car up the slope of our driveway. Last night after I closed out my blog for the evening, our neighbor, Pam Perlick, called and offered a berth in her garage so our plow guy could work unobstructed. A kind and thoughtful offer which I accepted. That meant putting back on jeans, boots, parka, hat and gloves, taking my Berea College whisk broom out and sweeping two new inches off the car before moving it to safe haven.
The night was dark and cold, the snow swept up and swirled as it fell. Once outside, as is often true, I found the storm exhilarating, especially since Pam’s gesture meant the Celica would not interfere with the snow removal. I could embrace the cold and the falling snow for what it was, rather than for the problems it brought into my life.
Based on NOAA weather spotter’s it appears we got another 5 inches of snow. Which would square with my guess. Snow shapes itself to the objects on which it lands, often in unusual, even bizarre shapes. I’ll put out some photographs today, once it becomes light.
These kind of storms and the deep cold of January define the north for me. They’re why I’m here and why I love this state so much, so I’m happy my neighbor restored my wonder. Thanks, Pam.
