Hibernation: Phase One

After the temperature drops below sixty degrees, it starts. My semi-hibernation.

I am a pretty cold person, actually. This is actually recent, but as I've gotten older, I am cold a lot of the time. Not like disproportionally with the weather, I'm not wearing a sweater in July, but come October? Yeah. I'm wearing a sweater. And shoes with socks. Which is just wonderful living in the Midwest. And to add to the fun, I live in an old farmhouse. With leaky windows. Yeah. It gets cold. Once January hits, I'm pretty much in full blown hibernation. My adaption of hibernation is not nearly as good as the real thing, but human beings don't seem to get away with naps that last more than a day, much less ones that stretch over a whole season. So I do what I can (besides wishing I was a bear) to keep somewhat warm and sane during the colder months of the year.

Phase one of the hibernation: I drink like seven cups of something hot every day.

It begins with a nice cup of coffee. Oh, glorious coffee! I don't have a set way I 'take' my coffee, as it were. Sometimes I like it black. Sometimes with just a little milk. And sometimes I go cream and sugar. It depends on the mood.

Then, I have a mid morning cup of green tea. I love green tea. So, so good. It's got spunk. Don't tell me it doesn't taste like anything, because it does and I like it. You can enhance this with honey if you're feeling healthy or sugar if you just can't live without it. Most often, I go for the latter.

Then comes my three o'clock(ish) cup of oolong. Another splendid tea. It's a bit like black and green tea blended as far as flavor in my opinion. This needs sugar. Period. This is the one tea I interchange. I must have green in the morning! I must!! But this afternoon cup of tea sometimes becomes afternoon cups of tea and so I'll start with oolong, move on to apple cinnamon and finish off with a nice cup of gingerbread, depending on how adequately stocked the tea cupboard is and what I'm in the mood for.

Last but not least is the bed time cup. In the dead of winter, this is very important. This is the cup that needs to get you through that awful moment where you jump into you bed and shiver as you try desperately to circulate body heat... brrrrr.... It's almost (and I said almost) as bad as that moment getting out of bed. No. Forget it. I lied. It's not even close. It's only getting into the fifties at night here and I have two blankets and a comforter (folded in half) on my bed. My sister asks what I'm going to do when it's really cold.

Drink more tea. And find more blankets. And wear more clothes. It's all part of the grand hibernation that keeps me alive during these cold and cruel winters.

We're only in phase one right now. And goodness, you have to love tea. I hope you love coffee as well, because it is quite fabulous also.

I've just finished my cup of coffee. They say it will be in the seventies today, but if not, you can bet I'll be drinking a nice cup of green tea in a few hours.

Maybe I'll drink it anyway... it's good stuff, you know.

Old Lady August

Ah, August.

I have a difficult relationship with August. It's suffocatingly hot, stuffy and those nasty cicadas are making that horrid noise high up in the trees (which is just plain creepy when you think about it). Summer is ending. School is starting.

August is a sad month, in my opinion (which, for the record is really all this blog is. I'm sure you figured that out by now, and hopefully, you share my opinion sometimes). It reeks of an ending, which is bitter in so many ways. It's like an elderly women, whose beauty, charm and allure are but memories.

But last night, I was shown a lovelier side of August that I am not sure I have ever seen before.

August was suddenly a cool, unexpected breeze.

August was tall, soft grass tickling my toes.

August was a game of tag.

August was appreciating a sip of cold water.

August was crickets and grasshoppers leaping about.

August was the sun setting gently.

Yes, those creepy cicada things were making that revolting noise, I got bitten by a chigger/mosquito/other blood sucking thing or two and there was a lot more sweating and stickiness than I would have liked, but last night, August was beautiful.

Last night, August wasn't the end of the summer. It was precious final days, like kissing a dying Grandparent. There was a finality about it, but there was also something sweet, perfect and necessary about it. Summer days are drawing to a close, but the August is a half open door. I tasted the sweet in August and savored the bitter.

I will admit my favorite thing about it was that it didn't feel like a hundred degrees outside, which is my biggest issue with August. They say it's a cold front from Canada (I love Canada today), but maybe it's just August out to prove me wrong. I can see her being ornery like that. She may not have the youthful beauty of May, but she is witty.

I can hear the cicadas singing now...