January is bouncing all over the place in both weather and emotions these days. Views From the Urban Porch have been varied and unpredictable. One day I’m staring at an atmosphere so vibrantly blue that it conjures up tropical skies –

and a day later it is suddenly madly moody and we are heading towards the tundra.

As I stood in the front yard gazing up at the sky like a weird neighbor with her mouth open, lines from a suddenly recalled song came to me, which has resulted in this (somewhat annoyingly twangy) ballad of an earworm running around in my head all week. It’s part of a song friends under the influence of a moment had written so many years ago in our collective youth, the title becoming one of those phrases quoted at obscure moments that would oddly, yet hilariously, perfectly fit the situation at hand – one of those “had to be there” inside jokes that repeatedly would pop up.

Here in the hills

We never had stills

So we took motion pictures instead

One minute I’m standing in a bed of pine needles amidst a barrage of pinecones brought down by gusty, overnight winds, and the next day the porch and Rose of Sharon is festooned in glassy fingers of ice. Dried flower buds, once verdant bouquets, now contrast starkly against the snow.

They didn’t come out

Because of the draught

Ain’t it funny what the weather will do

Rudi, warm in his little sweater, parks himself on a pillow perch on the arm of the couch in order to watch the neighborhood pass by, fiercely growling at all the big dogs behind the safety of window glass.

Those frigid days bring on the urge to enjoy a gift of rose petal jam from Spain on toast –

and the desire to make dark chocolate mousse laced with rum and festooned with blueberries –

or a broccoli, mushroom and cheddar quiche.

But not a day later, temps jump from a morning of 10°F to an afternoon of 53°F and the snow is gone.

This has brought on an incredible urge – and I cannot tell you why – to order many packages of salmiak. If you don’t know about salmiak, it is referred to here in a former post (Salmiak is Salmiak 8/21/2013).

All of these distractions – noting the weather, indulging in food, getting stuck in this particular earworm, and even some middle-of-the-night unnecessary internet shopping, have just been attempts to divert attention away from the fact that people in my orbit have been leaving the earth this month. I feel bewildered and sobered and somewhat numb. In the past few weeks, a very old friend who was not very old and two relatives that were, have passed away. Another is in transition to the beyond at this very moment. We lost my dad long ago in January too. Sometimes my brain forgets for a moment what day that actually was, but my body always seems to remember. Perhaps irreverently, the song continues:

We once had a dog named Fred

We kept him very well fed

Then he got sick, now he’s dead

Ain’t it funny what the weather will do

Right about here this post segues perhaps into a little bit of weirdness, as I share an interesting fact and roll into yet another tangent – statistically (in the U.S.) the month of January has the most deaths out of all the other months! What is rather surprising about these figures is that it doesn’t matter which state you live in, be it a colder northeastern state or a warmer one in the west or south…. the stats come out the same. January.

Funny what the weather will do.

There are (only) seven weeks left until Spring. That doesn’t seem so far off at all. Of course, we still will need to go through “The Febs,” but perhaps we will be pleasantly surprised.

Funny what the weather will do

Funny what the weather will do

Ain’t it funny what the weather will do

~*~

“Funny What the Weather Will Do” – © The Ming5 Band 1975