What does winter mean? Housebound. Even Howard gets stir crazy. The cold, the snow, the blustery winds-these things force me inside. My house, which usually seems large enough to live in, and more than large enough to clean, is the moral equivalent of a hamster cage in winter. I take three steps, and a wall looms. In self-defense, I am studying my views from inside out. I pace from one room to the next-this a condition from which there is little relief. But today I am not only pacing, but thinking about the views from my rooms. Placing a container that is good looking piled high with snow improves this view.
I am happy that my rose and perennial garden I thought to spare a full fall cut back. I like seeing the frail brown sticks out my window. My winter view has texture, mass, light and dark. I like a congested, visually lively, winter perennial landscape. I could write on like a fool about this. But suffice it to say, from indoors, I like to see something going on.
Lady Miss Bunny, my steel and moss sculpture patterned after a breed of English cow, stands out my bedroom window. She weathers. Every morning and every night I check her out-some winter days I wonder how she manages. I like seeing her there, on duty. Never mind the rain, the wind, the snow, the sleet-I see her the last before I climb into bed, and the first thing when I get up.
My kitchen door is full length glass- the largest uninterrupted view I have from indoors. A yew hedge is faced down with the thatched remains of some large clumps of panic grass, and not much else. This view could definitely stand some improvement. I am equally at ease choosing something that has great appeal, with no location in mind, as I am able to keep a spot in mind that needs something. Something center of interest that works well in the summer in this spot no doubt will improve my winter.
The pattern of the window panes figures in the view. What I see standing up is different than what I see sitting down. But what I see as the biggest issue-designing the views out such that privacy is maintained. I have been in homes with lots of windows, where the drapes are always drawn. Those drapes work to insure privacy inside, but they also keep people unnecessarily cooped up. I have designed my landscape such that I am able to see out, without being the object of someone’s attention from the street.
My enclosed front porch is almost entirely glass. One has to come through the porch door, to get to the front door. This architectural feature provides for privacy from the outside to the inside. In addition, my five foot tall yew hedge runs along the entire north and south side of my corner lot some 11 feet out from the house foundation. The hedge is the backdrop for the public presentation of the landscape from the street. It is likewise a backdrop for my view out. No one outdoors can see me standing in the window, nose pressed to the glass; this is a good thing.
My office at home has windows on three sides; the space can be very chilly on a cold day. But I more value being able to see out. The landscape here is layers of yew, grasses, and rhododendron through which I can see. They screen my window from the outside. I am incidentally able to tell fairly well what the outside temperature is, based on the degree of droop of the rhododendron leaves.
If it is not clear whether your views screen from one side, and permit views out from the other, photograph them. The lens of a camera has no emotional investment or judgment about what you have-it is a machine that records what is there. You will be able to tell what is not there. Now might be the best time to be planning for better views from your rooms.
en grisaille: to paint in a limited palette, light in value, and monochromatic-usually grey
But for staying out until 3am at a rocking great affair at my brother’s New Years Eve in 2000, I am not a New Year’s Eve party aficianado. The weather can be both challenging and boorish; the after midnight drivers even more so. Some years I would head home at 11:30, and listen to the festivities on the radio in the driveway. But in 2005, nature put on an unforgettable New Years party.
We had hung big gold stars and red modern sputnik ornaments in the lindens on the drive in November-it was a good look. I think ornaments look much better on deciduous trees than evergreens-they can swing free and be easily seen. Rob has a way of casually dressing the trees with lights that at first glance looks like his blood pressure is too low-but a second good look says otherwise. So far, so good. Branches, red and gold-what could be better?
Better was on the way; December 29 we got snow. Not a snow storm-a blanket of snow. It fell softly and steadily all day, and all night, and on into the 30th. Snow souffle-everywhere. All that white fluff changed the landscape completely. I had placed hickory fence poles in each corner of the front pots and wedged a giant grapevine sphere in between them-all in an effort to figure out what to do with some 25 lengths of hickory wood and bark strips Rob had brought over from Belgium. Do you see those curving strips? Truth be known, they were nothing much until the snow came. The snow was beginning to make something substantial of something gestural.
The thicket of linden branches overhead caught a lot of this snow-it stuck and kept on sticking to every branch, top to bottom. Never have I seen branches so dressed up. The hot garland lights shed the snow, and kept on glowing. What was to come had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the weather. Timing is everything-is it not?
The snow kept coming, amiable and relentless. Slogging through it during those two days was a workout, but late that New Year’s Eve stands out in my mind as the most breathtaking collaboration of electricity, frozen water and landscape that has been my privilege to witness. Happy New Year to you, best regards, Nature. 
A nine inch frosting of snow on this concrete table and matching chairs brings their design to the fore in a way a sunny July day would never do. All that white snow ramps up and multiplies the effect of those diminuitive lights-never mind that garland lights eliminate all that useless cord and concentrate the light. Fine, some good holiday lighting technology – the entire shop was in a very special state of reflective illumination beyond my efforts. 
The boxwood eventually succumbed, and splayed out from the weight of the snow. I know not to fuss with frozen evergreen branches, but I was wringing my hands seeing this. The older I get, the better I am in not intervening in situations beyond my control. The bugs, the rabbits, the fungus-they get the run of my place. The snow-I have no plans to intervene, only some plans to watch. 
Winter is setting in here with a vengeance. I am determined to spend more time outside-even though my tee shirt and shorts weather is long gone. Howard and Milo cannot figure out what my problem is-my not wanting to play ball outside our usual three or better times a day. They leap right into winter-literally. As their legs can’t be any longer than eight inches at the most, they know they have to get their speed up, and just plow through. I think my corgis must have a Texas jackrabbit somewhere in their lineage. My habit is to hole up indoors, with my stocking feet on the radiator-probably as I have been poor at gearing up.
No wonder Milo has no problem being outdoors in really cold weather for long stretches at a time. All that hair of his traps air, which warms up from his body heat. I envy him that fur coat. But I am taking a look at my winter garden gear-maybe I haven’t spent enough time and effort to get myself dressed for winter. My first move was to buy 10 mile hike socks from Woolrich. These socks have lots of loops of fiber on the inside; it is amazing how much warmer my feet are now, even inside. Warmer yet are sheepskin lined boots. I was dubious about wearing them without socks-but it works. My main objection to most winter boots-how heavy they are. The lightest-and for my money, the warmest-moonboots. First manufactured in the 70’s, they put a lot of space between your feet and the cold ground. Unfortunately, I am way too old and not nervy enough for the look of these-pity.
De-snowballing Milo is part of the daily routine. That warm fur is a magnet for cold snow. By the time he comes in, he is carrying a quart of water with him-in frozen form. How he puts up with snowballs stuck to his belly is beyond my comprehension. My idea of winter gear is enough layers between me and the cold to keep the snow as far away from me as possible. I have finally learned that layers of clothes protect me from the cold better than a single layer. Whomever the person is who invented fleece, and microfiber long underwear-thanks a million.
Howard doesn’t have half the hair of Milo-maybe that’s why he is so much more sensible than Milo. He has a winter shelter-underneath my moss cow. Even though he has the classic Corgi short coat, that coat is several layers. A dense fluffy undercoat is protected from the weather by a longer more oily outercoat. He must have a whomping lot of hair, as he sheds like crazy. My outercoat does keep me warm, as it is stuffed with a whomping lot of down.
Its obvious from this picture that Howard’s tail will likely never be cold. But his bare feet on that snow-yikes. I take them out for shorter periods, multiple times a day when the weather is like this-his feet and ears do get cold. In this case, I do not mind the look of my wool hat and honking big gloves-they are doing a job. 
The Corgis seem to enjoy being outside in the winter as much as they do in the summer-maybe more. The cold energizes them. The lesson here? When outside, move it. Build up a little head of steam. Can you tell I am trying to talk myself into this winter wonderland thing?
You would never know from this picture that it wasn’t a balmy June day-but for all the white stuff. I am sure how animals of all sorts survive in very cold temperatures has fueled some of the technology that makes for what winter gear is available to people. Trading in a spade for a snow shovel is a little tough to take, but it gets me outside. Once I am outside, there is plenty to see-as usual. I’ve made plans to look more closely at winter landscapes-what they do, and don’t do, and how they could be better.
Today our snow is accompanied by a good stiff wind. I am glad that I was sure to water my evergreens plenty before the ground froze. On a windy 22 degree day, they are loosing precious moisture from the surfaces of their leaves and needles-and have no way to replenish that until the ground thaws. 