I always say that every book I write, every retreat I lead, every workshop I present takes me to the next place I need to go on my spiritual journey. I never seem to realize that going in because I’m a little thick, and God needs to get my attention, and not always subtly. But I recognize it in hindsight, so I guess that’s something. Read more
Looks like Our Lady of Guadalupe will not disappear under the snow, as previously expected, due to a winter storm that turned out to be more of a dud than a monster, at least here. The kids so could have gone to school today. Snow and sleet stopped a while ago. Now it’s quite lovely out. Looks like it will be an early spring based on Our Lady’s predictions.
Here’s what Our Lady of Guadalupe looks like right now:
Here’s where she was yesterday around this time:
So there’s been some significant snow build-up but nothing to make us upstate New Yorkers slow down. Plus I think her snow totals are benefiting from some drifting, or possibly the intervention of a Higher Power.
In other news at the Poust house. Here’s the teenager getting a lesson in how to use the snow thrower:
Here are the girls making the requisite snow angels and going down the slide:
Here’s a view of our sun porch, which is heating up right now so I can enjoy the snow from the warmth of the cozy house.
Okay, things are not looking good for Our Lady of Guadalupe as she stands vigil over our backyard as the snow encroaches. (That’s her out there right at the bottom of the big tree.) We are using her as a barometer of the storm.
Here’s where she was around 10 a.m.:
Here’s where she is now:
Check back tomorrow to see how she fares…
I just finished shoveling out our driveway. It started as an effort simply to get through the icy snow bank left by the plow at the end of the driveway so I could get the van out and pick up Noah from school. (I was afraid he’d get hit by a car or plow while walking home from the bus stop.) When I got home, I decided to continue where I left off and just kept shoveling.
We have a gas-powered snow thrower, although I have to admit that I’ve never used it. Dennis does all the snow throwing, and leaf blowing. I prefer the old-fashioned way — shoveling and raking. There is something very meditative about both chores. They are, in a sense, very zen. You shovel snow while snowflakes fall covering up the space you just cleared with more snow. Same thing with autumn leaves. If you’ve ever raked a yard in the northeast, you know that raking can be an exercise in futility. Your efforts are quickly lost in a swirl of brown and orange and red.
Noah was not so charmed by this zen twist on shoveling. He just stared at me with that 14-year-old look. So I tried another approach, as he struggled to help with the snow removal. I suggested that knowing how to shovel a driveway might come in handy if ever he had his own place and no snow thrower to get the job done. Still not impressed. Finally I gave him some pointers on the art of shoveling and told him he should take pride in his work. “In shoveling snow,” he asked, incredulous. Yes, even in shoveling snow. Or maybe, especially in shoveling snow.
So the driveway is clear. For now. It was a nice little exercise — mental and physical — on this day when I couldn’t get to the Y. But it’s even nicer to know that Dennis will be around to handle that big snow tomorrow.
I don’t know what Our Lady of Guadalupe did to deserve such treatment. Normally she winters inside with St. Francis of Assisi. But this year, while St. Francis is snug and dry and relatively warm in our garage, Our Lady has been left to fend for herself in the backyard. And she’s not used to this kind of weather where she comes from.
It is snowing like crazy here, but the kids are at school and Dennis is on the way to work. Things promise to get worse by tomorrow. I thought we could use Our Lady of Guadalupe as a barometer of the storm here. We’ll check back in tomorrow to see if she’s up to her ears yet.
Here’s the long view of her location:
Here’s one of her backyard partners, digging out acorns from a snowbank on our deck:
Here are the pines behind our house. Let’s hope the storm doesn’t break their branches, which hang precariously over our power lines.
When I walked into Sunday Mass yesterday, I was taken aback by the beauty of the icicles hanging from the eaves all along the main church. I vowed to go back later and take a picture. I did not. Then, today, I went to 12:15 p.m. Mass, and, as I came up the sidewalk, realized I forgot all about the icicles. So after Mass I ran home, grabbed the camera and went back. I’m sure my pastor must have thought I was nuts if he spied me out the window. I couldn’t resist. You can see the result in my new header photo for this blog and below.