Ceiling Fans and Cold Snaps
by Bella Rum
The pasture first turned green and now yellow with the arrival of the buttercups. The sunsets are becoming more vibrant and demanding of attention. Even if it’s too cold to sit outside, we always remember to watch from the comfort of central heat.
Yesterday, H installed a ceiling fan in the family room. His foot is better, but I’m surprised that it still occasionally bothers him a little. I think it’s going to be a chronic sort of thing because of the arthritis. I believe it will lie down for periods of time but flare on occasion. Just my theory. I can’t stand it when H’s age-related vulnerabilities show themselves. He acts, moves and seems twenty years younger than he is, and I like that illusion just fine. It’s hard to believe that he and my brother are the same age, born only a few months apart, my brother has severe arthritis. He keeps going, but it isn’t easy.
Anyway. Ceiling fans! What’s not to love? This house has an open floor plan, and I love how ceiling fans create that cool and breezy feeling during the summer months. They help with the electric bill, too. We do most of our living in four rooms: bedroom, office, living room and kitchen. They’re all open to each other, except our bedroom. It has a door, which is only closed when the kids are here, and we’re ready to go to bed. The living area and kitchen are in-between the master bedroom and the guest rooms. The guest rooms hardly see my face except when I change the sheets for the kids. This is an easy-living house. Eventually we will have ceiling fans in every room. The next one goes in the office. It’s the warmest room in the house because it faces south.
I got my hair cut yesterday and she nearly shaved my head. And all my color is gone. I’m a mixture of gray and red. It’s a calico-like look. I don’t mind it much.
H is playing golf. He wore a thermal shirt under his collared shirt and threw a wind-resistant jacket in the car. The days are beautiful, and they smell of potential and rebirth, but it is still unseasonably cool here. Unseasonably? What is that? Nothing is unseasonable nowadays. It’s anything, anytime, anymore. So goes it. You open the door and hang your head outside to see what the day will bring. It was in the thirties last night. That may not seem cold up north, but it’s unseasonable for this time of year down here. The crepe myrtles we planted last fall leafed out last week, but a cold snap burned their tender leaves down enough to frighten even the most ardent shred of ambition out of them, the same story with the hydrangeas. They must be brave about it and begin anew. That happens with humans sometimes, too.