Mostly, there have been torrents of rain. Weeks of dark gray, overcast days . Once in a while, we get two or three sunny days, then the rain is back.
Heavy downpours intermingled with drizzle, fog, mist and a fairly bone-chilling cold. The bone-chilling spring is moving inexorably into an equally bone-chilling summer, or so it seems, I’m pleased to report that I can see fat buds on some of the lilies in the garden. They aren’t blooming though. Not yet. I have hopes that the first sunny day, which is due to show up maybe next Wednesday, will bring them out. Meanwhile, the day is more than a little bit nightish. Dark, cold and of course, rainy. At least today it’s a light rain. Yesterday’s was torrential.
We hardly ever “get out,” but in the middle of last night’s downpour, we went out to have fun (and we did, too). That’s another story. It was a long drive not made easier by the weather. Not going out is a money thing, but really, it’s a “where would we go anyhow” thing. Fine cuisine never made its way to our fair hamlet. If it got here, the owners soon discovered no one was willing or able to pay for it and moved. This isn’t a fine cuisine kind of place. Uxbridge is a working class city. A good burger is haute cuisine and although I can appreciate the elegance of a well-made burger, I can do that at home. I don’t go out to eat food I can easily prepare in my kitchen for 1/4 the price.
This is a very Main Street village. Yes, some people make more money than others, but there’s no sense of this being a city on its way up. Holding steady is what we are doing and that’s not bad, considering the fate of many other small towns. I can live with “hanging in there” as a local scenario.
We are almost finished building a brand new firehouse in the middle of town, conveniently located maybe two hundred feet from the original fire house which is underneath old Town Hall. There is also (same building) (no longer in use) (but maybe they should reopen it) jail there. The building is from 1889, apparently our last major building spree in Uxbridge.
I have heard tell housing prices are rising. We should check it out, I suppose. I ought to do it — just to make myself feel better — but then, I think: “If we sell this place, where would we go next?” This house is not old, but old enough. In good shape structurally — a roof that doesn’t leak, a boiler that keeps pumping heat, electricity that works as long as you don’t turn on an air conditioner in the living room while using the microwave or mini-oven — it needs cosmetic fixing. Paint. Molding. That kind of stuff.
With all the well-known limitations of this house, we are comfortable. Okay with politics and even with some of the weird decisions our so-called local government makes. Our blue heaven. Massachusetts has many foibles including bizarrely convoluted politics, but somehow, we manage to take reasonable care of people. There is more than enough complaining and whining anyway, but at least in this commonwealth, you can go to a doctor and get treated. Good doctors, top-notch hospitals, and a forgiving attitude towards medical hardship. It makes dealing with our weather easier. Especially for those of us who aren’t the healthiest individuals of our age group.
The non-snow places to which we might move are loaded with people I prefer to avoid. They are entitled to their opinions, but I don’t want to sit and listen to them.
It is peaceful here. Quiet. Rush hour? Nope. The closest we get to that is when there’s a parade in town and you either get there early to park … or you have to wait until it’s over. Road construction? Where in New England can you go where the months from snow-melt to more snow isn’t construction?
The flowers may not be expressing themselves with their typically hardy blossoms, but people are okay. We don’t shoot each other. No one hauls heavy artillery to the grocery store or Walmart. Maybe they think about it, but they don’t do it. That’s a big plus.
So, we’ll hang around.
Next? If only I magically make the stairs disappear!