Visitor in the snow

Snowstorm

It's the first snowstorm of the season, the first of many for northeast Wisconsin.  I casually mentioned to Gary last night that the neighborhood men already had their snowblowers out, even though there were only about two inches of snow on the sidewalks.  He leaped into action and rushed out to get his going, too.

At 5:00 a.m. they were all at it again.   It's a guy thing, I guess.

None of this obsessive plowing will make the sidewalks and roads less slippery, so we will have a day at home. I will bake bread and finish off the gumbo I started yesterday.

I am now up to 23 bookings for the summer reading program tour.  Now I must start lining up some nursing home bookings for Florida in February.

Yoga

I do yoga practice at a local facility twice a week.   I am not terribly proficient.  I struggle with the balance postures, and the lotus position is beyond me, but I persevere.  I remind myself that this is yoga "practice" not a performance and ignore the lithe younger women beside me.

My daily practices at home are shorter but still beneficial.  I insert a CD with waves crashing against a shore somewhere, or perhaps monks chanting in Latin, and for half an hour am lost somewhere inside myself.

My yoga mat comes with me on my travels.  At the end of each day, I find myself in a national forest.  Sitting under tall pines on a bluff overlooking a lake, I can meditate the day's stress away and stretch out muscles sore from driving.   There is peace above me (the sky), peace below me (the lake) and peace all around me (the forest).  They bring peace to my mind, body and spirit.  

Maps vs. GPS

Gary loves his GPS and thinks I ought to have one in my car.   His is on at all times, even for a two block drive to the grocery store.  It amazes me that a guy who doesn't like a woman telling him how to drive can listen to an annoying electronic voice directing him at every turn.  If the voice isn't activated, he is constantly looking at the computer.

On my travels, I have a simple system.  Before I start the car, I take out the map and jot down the numbers of the highways I will be traveling on and how far between each turn.  I note cities where I can stop for groceries, a quick meal, and e-mail access. The information goes on a clipboard beside me that gets perhaps ten glances a day.  If I get confused, I can always pull off the road and look at the map.

I'll stick with maps.

Florida in February

I love Wisconsin, my home state.  One quarter of the state is in forests.  We have more lakes than Minnesota, over 11,000.  (They thought of their motto,"Land of 10,000 Lakes" first.)  There are pristine rivers to canoe, trails to hike, wildlife to observe.  Yes, I do love this state, except in one month:  February.   That is a month of extreme cold, blizzards, and gray skies.  It is during that month that I am beset with Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I have no friends, I am suffering from some terminal disease (a new one each year), and life is horrible. Yes, February is the longest month, no matter what anyone tells you.  Then comes March and I find that I have so many friends, I wasn't sick after all, and how can life be terrible when the daffodils come up?

That is why I try to think of ways to escape Wisconsin in mid-winter.  Tours in New Zealand, Australia and southern state often happen in February as I search for the sun.

In mid-February, my friends Heather Ponting and Jacynth Hamill, Celtic a capella singers, will fly into Wisconsin from Great Britain..  From here, we'll go down to Florida to perform in the Gainsville area for over a week.  We'll drive back here for their three weeks of performances.  By the time they leave, it will be spring in Wisconsin and I'll have survived another winter.  Bless them.  

Nerves, glory, and a case of the munchies.

I had the bouquet carefully hidden at home.  At 5:30 exactly, I went to the church and unlocked the doors, bouquet in hand but who should follow me in but Vera and Alice, very early for the pre-concert rehearsal.  I quickly covered the bouquet with my coat, hoping I wouldn't squash it.

The next hour was a flurry of getting everyone the information they needed, organizing two Sunday school choirs who had never rehearsed with us, warming up the chancel choir, finding locations in the church for the hammer dulcimer player, calming down the teenage trumpet player, and running from one end of the church to the other.

Finally, the audience assembled and we began with a trumpet call, a choral piece and the invocation and we were off an running.  I found the one thing I had neglected was a chair for me, so I perched myself on a step beside the altar, hidden behind the piano.

The two combined children's choirs with 50 voices sang the chorus of "Halle, Halle, Halle" with the 30 voice chancel choir.  One boy became so excited he danced.  We were enchanted.  During our finale, "Holy is the Newborn Child", Vera wailed out her solo to perfection.  Then came the presentation of the flowers, thankfully  un-squashed, for her 75 years of singing with a choir.  I became quite emotional during it, but Vera was as calm as could be...but really surprised.

So goes another Christmas event.  Parties, one mine, and Christmas Eve to go.

Music!

Tonight is my church's annual Christmas concert.  Besides the chancel choir, we'll have two Sunday school choirs, the Praise and Worship Band, a hammer dulcimer piece, and a sing a long of hymns.   We've been rehearsing for weeks.  As choir director, it was my job to select the music, organize the program and rehearse the chancel choir. As pianist, I play for soloists and ensembles.  It meant practicing at the church daily.

One of the choir members is Vera, who will sing a solo part in one of the pieces.  It required someone who could "wail" gospel.  I tried younger members of the choir but only Vera could get that great African American sound.  Vera is a 4'10" dynamo who has been singing with this choir for 75 years.  At 86, she still babysits daily with grandchildren of the toddlers she used to watch.  I hope to grow up to be like Vera.

Who cares about presents when we have concerts? My Christmas is all about family, friends, lights and music, music, music.