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Hardly lamb-like

          This year March came in like a lion and went out like a lion, too. Right up until the bitter end, it was snowy and cold. It still is. And that aint no April Fool’s joke, baby. It was minus two (minus 19 C) at my house this morning. What is a joke is the fact that I still have no heat except for my emergency wood stove, four months after having installed my fancy-schmancy system, and several weeks after having contacted the area representatives for the various companies that built the system components that aren’t working. Radiant Engineering keeps interfering. They insist that everything is working fine. They may as well hang up a banner that says “mission accomplished!”  Had the parts just been delivered to me, I’d have them installed by now (thanks to the brilliant, capable and willing help of my friends, half of whom are engineers, the other half being mechanics and the third half being computer geeks, so I’m confident that parts could be installed successfully, cheaply and promptly…), and be solaring away, but nooooo. On the plus side, I now know this system through and through. I’ll be the go-to gal for any future suckers who get a system like this.

          Now back to the subject of snow: there are profound differences of opinion amongst the cognoscenti about just how much snow we’ve gotten this winter. My personal opinion is; a LOT. That opinion is shared by quite a few people, including George up at the ski hill (who is perhaps not the most trusted reporter of snow depths no matter how assiduously he attends his measuring equipment, for they – being the gossipy “theys” – say that there is one way to tell the difference between George and Lorena Bobbit: when she says there’s six inches on the ground….you can believe her.).  He keeps careful track of how much snow they get each year since his business is predicated on snow, and he reports that we have gotten a LOT. Like, more than any time in the past ten years. Dick, who has been here since the Paleolithic period puts the most-ness of our current snow back to 20 years, but then he doesn’t measure the stuff, he just works with his gut feelings. Mary, on the other hand, is a careful and reliable measurer (she rarely if ever reports that its ten inches deeper and ten degrees colder than at anyone else’s house, as her neighbors do… I trust her, and you should, too), who reports that so far this year we’ve had somewhat more than 12 feet of snow, whereas just back in 2004, we had 14. Of course the fat lady hasn’t sung yet; winter is far from over, but if Mary’s right, the rest of us are deluded. And don’t discount that possibility, especially in my case. I take great pleasure from my delusions, and I don’t care who knows it.

           My delusion about being an artist was- fortunately or unfortunately- revived this weekend, as I finally found the time and inspiration to start throwing pottery again. I haven’t thrown a pot since last autumn or summer, even, as in my expectation of moving, I didn’t replenish my clay supply. When I’d moved in here, I got the new clay, but I was so busy fooling around with non-functional heating systems, shocking water wells and leaking thises and thatses that I never had the serenity it takes to make art – oh, excuse me, I meant to say make mud pies. One thing I am confident of is that when all this (or maybe not so much of this, if Mary is correct) snow melts – lets say round about August – there will be plenty of mud around. You can sling it or throw it, as you choose.

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