Well this is the first weekend in two months that there is not a zero reading or snow predicted. Hooray! I've been spending my time mostly watching the birds and the neighbors. The neighbors are like the fable the ants and the grasshopper. We (Timmy and me) are the grasshopper, fiddling away our days, while the ants (the neighbors] are working hard. Wayne has a big yellow shovel, a long roof rake shovel, a snowblower, and a little go-cart mobile that has a plow on it. He can use all of these almost at the same time, removing methodically the snow from his house and yard.

Last week our other neighbor Tony did something I have never seen before. He hitched his son Christopher in a harness, tied a rope to it, tied the rope around himself, and they both went up on the roof. Now this is a high roof, steep pitch, therefore the rope on Christopher who had a roof rake shovel and was clearning off the roof. Now this made me laugh, because I remembered a story from my childhood where the husband and wife trade jobs, and the husband does everything wrong, including putting the cow on the roof, so he doesn't have to take the cow to the pasture. Then he tied a rope around the cow and himself. Well, the story ended with the cow falling off the roof, and the old man going down the chimney. This didn't happen across the street, but the tension and drama lasted most of the afternoon. Better than the Superbowl.

So February is dragging on. I tried to think of some good that has come out of this winter - hard to do when the pipes froze in the garage, had to all be replaced, cabin fever doesn't even describe it - and a trip to the Post Office is all I can say happened in my journal. But then I thought of one thing - no mice. Usually, in the winter, they come in the house and Timmy is trapping almost one every night. No mice. They can't make it into the house through all the snow. I think I would rather have mice than this winter.

Yesterday when Timmy brought in the mail there was a package for me from my Aunt Alice. Now this was a surprise on many levels - Aunt Alice was married to my father's brother and is in her 90's. We only corresponded once a year, at Christmas and I hadn't received a Christmas card from her this year. I thought perhaps she's not well. Anyway, when I opened the box there was a letter on top of the wrapping which I read before looking into the package. Aunt Alice said she was cleaning out nick nacks, saw this and thought of me. I couldn't imagine what it would be, unwrapping the papers, I laughed and then cried...one of the teasel ladies Ria used to make years and years ago.

Maria and Kevin were running the Stork - delivering (thus the name) sandwiches, foods, desserts to businesses, but mostly Bard students. To supplement their income Ria was also making crafts, one of which was the teasel lady, a plump, kerchiefed lady, holding flowers with a teasel face, making it look like a hedgehog. Then I remembered Maria going to the craft fairs and one event jumped into my mind. This was maybe 27 years ago, when Jer was 3.

There was a craft fair in Cold Spring and Maria asked if I could go to watch Jeremy, maybe take him someplace, while she was at the fair from 10 until 2. I said sure, and my friend Crissy decided to come too. "I've always wanted to visit Boscobel in Cold Spring," she said and we agreed to go there with Jer while Ria was at the fair.

Boscobel was beautiful, but we realized a few seconds into the tour that it was not Jeremy's idea of fun. He started to scream "Lets go" and twist and turn, trying to get away. I asked the guide if we could be excused, but the woman, in a strong German accent, said "No, you MUST stay with the group. There is no one to take you out." So we stayed and it got worse and worse. On the second floor both Crissy and I were red faced, sweating trying to control Jer. In the main bathroom the tour guide pointed out the large bathtub and said, "You could drown a bad boy in there." Finally, it was over. Crissy held Jer, who tried to punch one woman in the face, and he bit into Crissy's leather jacket, leaving teeth marks. We went to a deli, got sandwiches and two beers and drove to the river, where there was a nice beach, people feeding swans and sitting in the sun, and we tried to relax, eating our lunch in the car. Just then the noon whistle went off, Jer panicked and huddled under the front seat of the car, shaking in fear. Crissy and I looked at each other in amazement. That kid who had no fear of the guide, the other visitors, us, or anything was terrifed and quiet as a mouse with the noon whistle!

Anyway, just seeing that little teasel lady from Aunt Alice made me think of that day. Maria must have made a 100 of those dolls, I wonder how many will turn up.

The snow that fell last night clung to the trees this morning, making a winter wonderland. I swept off the deck to lay out birdseed and filled the front feeders, got a new cup of coffee and waited. The cardinals, juncos and chickadees were the first to appear at 7am. For a time in the early morning light, they all were motionless in the trees, bright red dots against the snow. A hawk must have been around, and then left not seeing his breakfast, for in union they all again began to eat and flit from feeder to deck to feeder.

Then the blue jays came. Noisy, piggy, stuffing themselves with seed after seed. Not like the cardinals, who politely nibble one seed, look around, wait, then take another nibble. Also, the jays are loud, screaming to each other, screaming for themselves, chasing each other away from their special place.

The squirrels come next on the half hour as if an alarm clock had set them off. I had to laugh because as they jumped from branch to branch they set off avalances of snow, minature blizzards. They are more like the bluejays, glutons, and not nice to each other. The other morning I counted nine, nine competitors, some more interested in fighting than eating.

The last to rise on a cold morning are the woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers that will go for the feeders, but prefer the suet, but today the suet is frozen, a little too hard for their taste.

Birds have been in the news lately - the reports of thousands of them dead, lying on the ground, in several parts of this country and even in Europe. What this mystery means seems to have everyone baffled. I can't imagine my life without birds. They are my meditations, my seditives, my addiction - and my salvation (that might be going a little too far!) When my neighbor Nick's wife died years ago, he went into a deep depression. She had been sickly, but her death was totally unexpected. His mood was so different, not the laughing, joking person he once was and his eyes would fill with tears frequently. Then, something changed him, brought him out of the depths of depression - a fishtank. Yes, he found an old tank in his garage and decided to buy a couple of fish. He told me about it, and I could see something had changed. Then he bought more fish, apparently he had once earlier in his life had fish, so he knew what kinds were compatable and would once in a while, splurge on an expensive, exotic fish. He told me how he would sit and watch those fish for hours. I thought of that this morning - I guess I use the birds like Nick used his fish. Relaxing, calming, amusing. I hope they find out soon what is causing these bird deaths. I need my birds.

Happy New Year - since all the media seems to be looking back over the year, I thought I would do the same, but just break it down to one per season. Spring would have to be the kite flying and bubble blowing festivities in the cemetery. Not gloomy, not sad, I don't think a tear was seen, just the joy of watching the kids running, some with adults trying to get their kite in the air. We all rubbed instant lottery tickets, but no big winners, only one $3 that Paul had. Sabra's tarot reader later said to forget the ruboffs, go right to the lottery and we will have a winner within 3 years.

Summer would have to be Wellfleet, almost the whole family there, lots of laughs, lots of good seafood and Ava spotting the skeleton of what turned out to be a dophin, that came home with Jer and is now on the back porch. The kids gave me a lot of laughs and it was fun to sit on my bed, drinking fundador with Maureen, listening to David Sedaris. John O'Leary's yearly trek to our campsite was fun for all the girls and Sabra and Laura are still talking about midgets and webbed feet.

Fall would be the StreetPainting in Tivoli, working on the pavement between Sabra and Tony and Regina on the other side, doing the Guiness bird, remembering Margaret. The funniest part was that Natalie Merchant and her daughter were working on a square right in back of me. They had live music, a young woman dressed in fancy clothes, little red hat, peacock earrings, and singing all the songs I knew from my past. When she did "Blue Skies" I couldn't help myself and broke into song: "Blue skies, shining at me, nothing but blue skies do I see...never saw the sun shining so bright, never saw ..." I looked up and realized I was within earshot of Natalie and she probably never before had heard anyone sing like that.

Winter would be Rachael and Miles' engagement party - really nice restaurant, good food, everyone dressed up. Rachael looked beautiful and Regina was wearing a topless little dress she kept pulling up. Lots of topless dresses, lots of tugging, lots of pictures and lots of families. Very nice and gave us a glimpse of what is coming at the wedding.

So that's it - the year in a nutshell. Let's see what happens this year-I'm hoping for the lottery.

Christmas morning I was walking to Sabra's house to see the boys opening presents. The sky was spectacular! Pinks in every shade, shimmering whites mixing in, a panorama of color and light. Entering Sabra's house I said, "You have got to see the sky..Granpa Bunny outdid himself." One of Maria's favorite Golden Books was Grandpa Bunny, about an old rabbit that showed the children how to paint Easter eggs. When he died, the children missed him, but everynow and then the sky would be lit up brilliantly and the children knew that Granpa Bunny did that for them. That's how I felt yesterday morning - that sky was a gift to us.

Then in the afternoon the family came for turkey dinner. Later, Regina was sitting in the rocker in the living room, when all of a sudden she said, "I just love Christmas", another gift for me. Merry Christmas everybody.

Two Ciancanelli Christmas family stories. The first one is Santa Mouse. When the kids were little we used to take them to Stickles' store in Rhinebeck to buy their presents for the family. Each was given $10 and they would roam the store, seeking just the right gifts for their family and maybe a friend or two. One year Sabra brought herself a gift, a little mouse dressed like Santa. After shopping we went to Foster's to celebrate with lunch.

When we got home and opened the bags, no where was Santa Mouse to be found, it must have fallen out of the package in our travels. Sabra cried and I promised to go back to Rhinebeck and get another mouse as soon as possible. Well, it snowed for the next several days, and when we got to Stickles, there was no Santa Mouse left. I tried to talk her into another decoration, but she wanted Santa Mouse. "Let's go to Foster's for lunch," I said, trying to cheer her up, but she just gave me the "face", still off we went to Foster's. Crossing the street, I glanced in the gutter in front of the restaurant and something red caught my eye. I bent down, and sure enough, it was Santa Mouse, flattened from being run over and parked on, all wet from the snow. But Sabra was in heaven - I promised to dry him out and maybe I could make him a new coat, and I did. He still was flat, and certainly looked as if he been through what he had been through, but he was hung proudly on the Christmas tree, not only that year, but every year after that...The Santa Mouse miracle - found after all those days and how you can get what you want if you want it badly enough and believe.

The second story is Christmas Party at school. Paul was probably in first grade when the note came home that there was to be a party and each boy should buy a boy gift and each girl a girl gift to exchange on that day. The note indicated that the gift should be under $2. So Paul and I looked through Stickles, I being very careful to make sure the gift was close to $2 and finally settling on something that was $1.99. Proudly, I felt, that is as close as you can get under the limit. We wrapped it, labeled it "boy" and Paul took it to school on the last day before Christmas. I wondered if the boy who got the gift would like it, appreciate my generousity, going right to the limit. When Paul got home, I eagerly asked to see what he had received. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beat up, worn matchbox car. "Is that it?" I asked disgusted that someone would wrap up something so old and scratched. "Yes,"he answered happily, "Jimmy gave it to me. It was his FAVORITE toy." I was taken aback. Boy, was my face red. Those little first graders had a better understanding of Christmas than I had. I wiped a tear, and told Paul that Jimmy was right, that is the BEST toy anyone can get. And like the grinch, I think my heart grew three sizes that day.

Christmas shopping - with these knees I can only do one or two stores at a time. Years back with the three older kids in school, I would put Sabra in the car and start off for Kingston to do as many stores as possible. Sabra was a squealer though, had a great memory, and would tell her sisters and brother about my purchases, so I had to go prepared.

We had a game then, "Beat the Clock", also a TV show, in which you had to do stunts while the clock ticked off...probably a lot like "winitinaminute", or whatever that show on TV is now. Anyway, part of the game was a blindfold that the person would use and try to do some stunt, like pile blocks or something. I would bring along to the store the blindfold, and get Sabra settled in the cart and then put the blindfold on her eyes. I would be putting games and toys in the cart, carefully covering them with my coat, in case she peeked. But she never peeked. I think the kid liked the game herself, and would keep up a coversation, "How much longer?" "I'm hungry, can we get something to eat?" Other shoppers smiled at us. She did look cute, a little kid blindfolded talking all the while I filled the cart. What a clever idea they seemed to think, as we proceeded to the checkout counter.

We would end up at Britts, a really nice store that was as close to Macy's as we had in Kingston at that time. Very nice clothes, a good fabric department (I was sewing then) and best of all a restaurant...not like you find in Sam's Club or Target - frozen pizza and three day old hot dogs, but a real restaurant, with soups and sandwiches, small pots of tea. I would get a soup and chicken salad, and Sabra would get a grilled cheese sandwich, with chips and a pickle. "Now this lunch is our little secret", I would whisper to her and she would nod agreeably. But then when the bus dropped off the older kids that afternoon, the first thing out of her mouth was "MOM AND I ATE OUT". Thank God for that blindfold I would think.