Burning Low
In the shortening days leading up to the solstice it’s dark when I wake, and on these cloudy mornings it’s darker still. But as I sat down at the table with my coffee this morning, there was brilliant Venus in a break in the dark clouds, and below it to the left an odd smudge of light. The clouds shifted for a moment and the smudge sharpened into the perfect crescent of the waning moon, heading to its position between us and the sun. For a moment, Venus and the moon were clear and radiant. The clouds moved, and they were gone. I happened to be looking that way at just that moment, or I would have missed them completely. I have that thought so often in this beautiful world, that I was so lucky to be looking just there, just then, or I would have missed some beautiful sight. But I don’t think of all the sights I do miss, all the particular plays of light and wind.
We came back to Sunnyhill at the end of fall, just after the first snow deep enough to need plowing. But it’s winter now, only two weeks later. We’ve had another big snow, six inches on the hill, and I awoke to minus six degrees one morning. The power went out in the big snow and was out for better than ten hours. But our generator (which we’d just had serviced) kicked right in and we were powered all day. There has been a little break in the weather the last few days. With some rain, the snow is mostly melted. After that first breath of winter there is a scurrying to get a few things done before the snow returns in earnest. Jay plugged the air vents that keep the crawlspace under the house ventilated in the warm weather, but let in frigid air during the winter. The roofers are finally coming to do a few little repairs. Our two tons of wood pellets will be delivered tomorrow. It’s the same all over town, people using their last chances to get ready for snow that stays and stays.
The bags of pellets will be stacked in the barn, keeping the tractor company. The tractor has had its share of adventures. The guys from Verizon were out to dig a new trench for the phone line, as the old one had been cut, probably when the barn was built. So we have a landline now, which seems like a good idea as our cell service is iffy. But when they filled in the trench, they didn’t compact the soil, and as Jay couldn’t see the trench under the snow he drove the tractor over it and it sank into mud up to its axle. Utterly stuck. This happened last week, just before Rabbi Molly was coming up to give the tractor a blessing. But she came, and gave it a lovely blessing in the mud, and left Jay with a tractor mezuzzah with the travelers’ prayer to affix when it was upright again. Michael Chase finally got time in his schedule on Monday to come up and pull the tractor out with his excavator, so it is free at last, and ready for its winter chores. Jay will use its forklift to carry the pellets, a pallet at a time, to the garage. And he’ll use it to clear the driveway of the snow that we know is coming.
There was still snow on the ground when Santa arrived in Cooperstown just after Thanksgiving. It was a scene to gladden the heart of Norman Rockwell, although it was awfully cold. Santa has a little house set up on Main Street. Just after dark a crowd started gathering outside of it, and pretty soon the parade came into view. It was the kind of parade I remember from Amenia summers (except we weren’t freezing then), fire trucks, a pickup truck with musicians, a snow queen on horseback, the high school marching band, and finally a line of little children in puffy jackets, hats, scarves and mittens walking together holding onto a rope just ahead of Santa’s sleigh. As the sleigh came into view a great cheer went up from the crowd. There was Santa, Mrs. Santa, Elves, Rudolph, and Frosty the Snowman. Santa climbed down from the sleigh and walked through the excited children to his house, and he’ll be there for photo ops until Christmas. It was just charming!
In these long, cold nights a town does what it can to bring cheer. The Christmas trees are lit in front windows, the wreaths are on the doors and lights are twinkling. On Sunnyhill the dark of the night is broken tonight by three candles and the shamash burning gaily in the window. There is a big public chanukkiah in Oneonta, in the square right beside the town Christmas tree. We missed the lighting of it the first night, though I read there was a crowd of 150 – a big crowd for Oneonta. We missed it because we already had tickets for the annual members’ party at the Fenimore Museum. The beautiful old building was all decked out with trees and lights and flowers. There was delicious food everywhere, and live music. And Aviva would not forgive me if I didn’t mention the chocolate fountain, her favorite part of the event. The dessert room was pretty fabulous. The Fenimore is a jewel at any time, but never more so than when it is decked out for the holidays. It will close later this month and stay closed until spring, like much of town. There’s never any trouble finding a parking space on Main Street during the winter, but you may have to cross a snow mountain to get to the sidewalk.
Charlie has enjoyed the few days of receding snow. I haven’t the heart to tell him it will be back. It’s good to live in the present, to not consider the cold and piles of snow that are coming. But I find myself looking forward to the winter, enjoying bundling up, enjoying the camaraderie at the gym among those who stay for the winter – because they like it or because they can’t afford to leave. I’m sure it looks different if this is your 70th winter here and not your second. Winter is still a novelty for me. I like the work of keeping the house warm. I like the rush of warmth that greets me at the gym coming in from the cold. But most of all, I love the snow landscape, the peace of it, the simplicity. There are few colors to distract the eye, though a brilliant red cardinal flew across the road just in front of me this morning. Mostly, there is the play of light and shadow on expanses of snow and the architecture of trees revealed.
The candles are burning low. One for each night, they shed a sweet light to remind us of days long ago. I remember the days long ago, when we girls lined up our four little chanukkiahs next to Mama’s big one on the window sill. I miss sharing Chanukkah with family and friends, but tomorrow night we’ll light candles with Peter and Aviva, and Friday night we’ll bring our chanukkiah to the party at Beth El where there are new friends to make. But I’m pretty sure we won’t get to sing Chanukkah in Santa Monica this year. Chag sameach.