The cold and snow came early this year, grinding numerous projects to an inglorious halt, and leveling assumptions about what would get done before winter truly sets in. On Thanksgiving morning it was five degrees below zero, and not much – if any – warmer by day’s end. My younger son and I skied after dark, under the glow of a fat, bright moon, looping through the forest, then across the cleft of the mountain road to the apex of our neighbor’s sloping field and back down again, headlamps turned off to heighten the sensation of speed. Before we’d pushed off I’d made some inane comment about the vastness and beauty of the night sky; he’d merely grunted, and I’d felt old and foolish all over again.
We slid off the hill, then past the old church, over the bridge, and up the driveway, my lungs stinging from the cold. The next morning I turned 47, but it was still cold, still snowy, and it seemed to me as if nothing much had changed at all.
13 thoughts on “Nothing Much Had Changed At All”
Happy birthday, and that’s probably a good thing if nothing seemed much different!
“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you really are?” Satchel Paige. & happy birthday young man, sounds like you’re treating yourself alright. Thank you for your art, it feels a little like my birthday every time you’re delivered to my inbox.
You are not old. You are not foolish. Happy belated Birthday. Hope it’s a great year ahead for you.
Happy Birthday Gramps! Hey, at least you can REMEMBER how old you are…
Tricia, you some how always know how to cut to the core. LOL
If only all youth could share a moonlit evening outdoors with a parent, just imagine tomorrow’s benefit.
Happy Birthday, Ben. Reading this, it gives me a certain feeling of comfort knowing you all still skiing, still under the starry skies, still burried in the snow.
And maybe someday the kid will remember that as one of the best nights of his life. You never know. Happy birthday!
Happy birthday to you– and to me, too!! Mine’s the 25th and I’m 9 years younger but from the way you live your life, I know you’re the young one between us. I hope your 47th is a wonderful year!
Now you’re officially half a year older than I am, and you also made me cry again. Not because we’re getting old (ahem), but because your son grunts, too, when you wax poetic about nature. I took my oldest son hiking up Cascade Pass, and whenever I gushed about the gorgeousness of the mountains are, he merely grunted.
Both George Bernard Shaw or Oscar Wilde have had the quote “Youth is wasted on the young.” attributed to them. Whoever said it, was(IMO) spot on, as young people generally lack the experience that only comes with living/age to truly appreciate that which they regularly take for granted.
I grew up in rural NH and failed to appreciate the splendor of the fall foliage. I’ve have since lived just over half my life in Kansas and Nebraska where life has been good, but ambiance is in short supply.
Happy (belated) Birthday, Ben – wishing you a truly satisfying and abundant year ahead!
On Mon, Nov 26, 2018 at 6:42 PM Lazy Mill Hill Farm wrote:
> Ben Hewitt posted: “The cold and snow came early this year, grinding > numerous projects to an inglorious halt, and leveling assumptions about > what would get done before winter truly sets in. On Thanksgiving morning it > was five degrees below zero, and not much – if any – warme” >
Oh boy, I’m raising my lastborn (of six) and he is a grunter–at 12!! Yet he does the least grunting when we are doing something together that HE chooses. (My choices, usually, lack the scope of imagination for him–hauling mulch, cleaning up the garden, picking tomatoes, making salsa and canning it, etc.). I treasure each and every moment I spend with him, however, (grunting and all!) knowing that in a heartbeat he’ll be a grown-up man and facing grown-up challenges. For now, his biggest challenge seems to be this: to remain civil with his inane parents which, all things considered, could be worse.