I can't remember the recent social event I was attending here in Privatopia, but I do recall that one of my fellow home owners said to me, "Hey Rae, how is it over by your place? It must be like a frozen tundra over there."
I paused a moment to give measure to her words. She was an acquaintance, someone I didn't know very well, so it was difficult to discern her intent at conversation. Did she mean that my house did not have the beautiful view of a McMansion waterfront home? Or was I being defensive?
Recently I'd witnessed a fellow Privatopia resident say to a friend, whose home is located near the ski hill, "Well, it must be awful for you with the noise of that snowmaking machine and those bright lights that illuminate the ski hill." Or, the time a neighbor said to me, while visiting my house, "Oh, you don't have the open floor plan and expansive ceilings. How do you cope? I'd be positively claustrophobic."
Encounters like that are fodder for my blog. I'm beyond junior high school and it is no longer easy to make me envious, or to make me somehow feel inadequate that my possessions are not as grand as yours. Sometimes in such situation I have to suppress a desire to chuckle.
But, assuming the "frozen tundra" woman meant no harm, and remembering she lived in a cozy and protected vale-like area, I replied, in my best Werner Herzog voice,
"Yes, well, our house is small and sort of set up atop a hill."
"So the wind can be quite unrelenting,
especially during winter storms."
"Thank goodness we had new windows put in last year."
It seems to have paid off in a more tight and warm home."
***
I do not possess Werner Herzog's masculine voice, nor do I speak with a pleasing German accent. However, I can imitate his slow, deliberate, almost insistent cadence. And I can speak in a deadpan manner, practically devoid of emotion and with perfectly enunciated English.
I am a fan of Werner Herzog's films. I especially enjoy films in which he provides some of the narration. That voice, that gentle calming voice that absolutely demands you sit up and pay attention. That voice, that uncritical voice that makes you stop and think, and think again, long after you've absorbed the words. That voice, that relaxed, softly predictable voice with its stops and pauses between sentences that seem to drive home a point harder than a sledgehammer. Oh, that voice.
***
When potential retirement loomed over us like an undefined cloud, I was having lunch with Reliant Husband in a diner a town away from our newly bought home in Privatopia. We overheard the townspeople asking one another, "Where will you winter this year?" "I can't wait until we are asked that question," I whispered to Reliant Husband, as dreams of exotic tropical destinations slowly danced in my head.
***
We had an amiable substitute on my Privatopia bowling team this past month, as one of our team is off "wintering" in Florida for a month. As we waited our turns to bowl, the sub asked, "Rae, will you be getting away anywhere this winter?"
"No," I explained "we made a quick trip to the East Coast to visit family over the holiday season. But, that's about it. We spend a couple of days each week with our new grandson. They grow so quickly. Soon enough we'll be able to take longer winter vacations, but right now he needs some time with us, and we with him-" I could feel myself making excuses about not taking flight like a “snowbird.” Yuch!
***
Reliant Husband and I have varying introverted tendencies that make it enjoyable for us to be somewhat isolated. We like to cross-country ski and snowshoe, not in crowds, but just the two of us. If I'm away bowling Reliant Husband will go out skiing alone. He also likes to putter about the house. I like to cook and bake. We both enjoy reading books or watching films. Neither of us use FaceBook.
In short, we both enjoy looking out of the back window at our "frozen tundra," a view that is both static and ever-changing.
Two of Werner Herzog's documentary films come to mind as I gaze at my tundra, 1) Happy People: a Year in Taiga and 2) Encounters at the End of the World.
***
This week we returned from our two-day trip to the city to visit our grandson to find knee-deep mounds of snow surrounding our house. We temporarily abandoned the car on the road and began, in twilight, to dig our way back into our home. With the shovel we made it to the garage where Reliant Husband started up the snow thrower. He worked on the driveway and I attacked the deeper drifts with a shovel to make it easier for the snow thrower to do its work. We laughed as I reminded Reliant Husband of how Anatoly in Happy People arrives after a full day spent trapping to find his hunting cabin has had a tree fall on it, crushing part of the roof, snow is at least three feet deep on the remaining roof, a bear has torn open the windows, even though it knows full well there is no food to be had. And thus in the dark Anatoly, alone, must fix the cabin as he has nowhere else to go, no other alternative but to repair it so that he has a shelter in which to sleep. Our laughter makes the work go quickly and in one hour we're safe and warm in our-home-with-a-view-of-the-frozen-tundra.
***
All of my life I dreamed of retirement, a time when I could chose what activities I wanted, a time when I finally owned my time. And what better excuse to do nothing but the basics for a happy life then to be snowed in. What better reason to pick up a book you've always meant to read? What better reason to make bread from scratch? What better reason to watch, or re-watch a film? What better reason to write a story for a great-great-grandchild with whom you will otherwise never have contact? What better reason to dream during the day rather than at night when you are asleep?
All of my energy that is expended in a frenetic world of sometimes overwhelming activity and constant internet connection is slowly and deliberately repaired, rebuilt and restored, like Anatoly's cabin.
***
A Recipe for Winter Relish
How to relish winter? Well to begin with, put on layers of good winter clothing, jackets, balaclavas, gaiters, boots, hats and gloves, then don skis or snowshoes and head outside. Drink in the beauty that dazzles your eyes to near blindness and the crushing sound of complete silence that almost hurts your ears.
Now for as long as necessary, incubate your mind so that when you return home you will be instilled with energy to do more enjoyable things of your own choosing.
***
"Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits…”
p.s. Just as I began to hit the 'post' button I looked up to see a majestic bald eagle over the tree in my back yard. - Sorry I couldn't get a photo in time!
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