It’s snowing again. Rather, still. Here in Central Mass we will be at, or pretty close to, the seven-foot mark by the time this latest in a series of winter storms ends. And, while trees and shrubs dripping with glistening white frosting are pretty enough to illustrate a book of fairy tales, the glossy, gleaming ice dams building up on my roof are big enough to sink an ocean liner.
Thank goodness for my little sunroom, where I keep houseplants and fruit trees, along with a tray of herbs and vegetables I am attempting to grow from seed. If only the sun would shine.
Today is watering day. Normally, I might just look at that chore as another in a long list of tedious items on my to-do list, but today it is a pleasure. Why? Because within seconds of the water hitting the soil, the aroma of the rain forest begins to waft up and cause body and soul to rejoice.
This hint of Mother Nature’s perfume lasts only a moment, but for as long as it does, I can forget the swirling snow, the howling wind, and the sub-zero wind-chill factor. I can enter my little fantasy world in which I pick my breakfast orange from my own tree,
and enjoy it with a cup of coffee and the morning paper in the open-to-the-sky courtyard of my hacienda.
At least until the phone rings.