Cook Forest

  I have a place in my mind’s eye, as I sit here in my office.  There is a hint of what I envision surrounding me as I sit in my swivel chair.  The hint is found in the wood paneling.  The place in my mind is Cook Forest.  Let us be clear on the Cook part.  There is no 's making it Cook’s Forest, a common mistake my kids like to correct each other on.  I know this for a fact because I used to give Cook an extra S until the rustic timber signs, that grace most State Parks, corrected me as I got older.
  Cook Forest is a place of history, my family history.  I have been going there since I was 16 years old.  Wait, I take that back.  I was 16 the first time my Mom took all my siblings while I was left to stay with my Dad, who had to work.  Something about teenage attitude.  Whatever.  It’s been over thirty years that this forest has welcomed my family for a week out of every summer.
  We started in a single River cabin when it was my family of origin.  My Mom and Dad and us twelve children.  I can still hear shouts of laughter mixed with the scent of popcorn as it softly rained outside, calling for game night inside.

  Eventually, as we grew into family units of our       own, we moved to the Indian cabins.  These tiny,
single-room, log cabins with chinking, held us for a few years until the babies kept coming and we returned to the original large River cabins on the upper tier.  This is the best place to see if the Clarion River is full enough to go tubing.  It’s amazing how laughter from the river can bounce its echo up into the trees, like a call beckoning us to come play.

  There was one summer, July of 2004, when there were more tears than laughter.  That was the summer my Dad died.  Still, Cook Forest gathered us in.  Hugged in her trees, bathed in her river, we held one another and remembered Dad.

  My husband and I now bring our seven children to these rustic cabins that ALWAYS smell the same.  Each year, our vacation begins the same, with the kids running into the cabin, inhaling loudly and exhaling the words, “Coooook Foressst”.

  Traditionally, our cabin is framed in majestic trees which open to frame bright clusters of stars at
night while a campfire draws all of us together below.  We number about 60 now and take up all the River Cabins and three quarters of the Indian cabins.  You can imagine our campfire circles are pretty big.  When we descend on the Cooksburg Café for ice cream, we often fill every metal table, log bench, and every inch of standing room.  This is right next to the Café sign where the bats like to roost. Just a bit of extra fun.

  Yes, I like looking at this wood paneling in my office.  If I close my eyes long enough I can almost hear the whooshing of the wind that rustles through the tall trees in Cooksburg, PA.  I know what you’re thinking…Cooksburg has an S.  Just trust me on this…it’s COOK (no S) Forest and you should go if you get the chance.  Listen for the screams of laughter up on the hill.

Obituary Assignment Inspires

I’d never been so thrown by a class assignment. Yet, there I sat,

staring at a blank screen, waiting for the words to come as I tried to write my own obituary. I began with my name. I moved on to the “dash” part which would include: born on…dash…died. I chose not to fill in the date I died, but did take note of how old I was.

I was 47 years old.

I’d been alive for 47 years. That’s 17,155 days to get it right. I looked at the prompts for this writing assignment. What do I want my life to reflect? I thought I’d take a creative approach and write about the dreams that I’d had for an entrepreneurial venture. Who were the people I wanted to impact? I wrote about my family and the throngs of other creatives who would be loved to live by words I had written.

So full of life!

And then it hit me. Or should I say, SHE hit me, and spoke to my heart in the way of one who had been there. My sister, Mary, vibrant, strong, energetic, driven. Yes, Mary who had taken her role as the eldest of twelve children and blazed trails for the rest of us to follow. Headstrong, resilient, yet vulnerable and self-protective. Mary called to me in this assignment. I felt my eyes drift to her most recent business card that rested on my desk, Director of Veteran Affairs at the Erie County Courthouse. I knew that assignment had been a joy to her. My sister passionately embraced her role of helping veterans receive the benefits they’d earned and deserved. I was one of those veterans and had the privilege to see my sister’s work in action.

Though she loved her job, what made her zest come to life was love for people. She didn’t have a clique, Mary loved everyone. She

Mary with her family

didn’t see color, age, size, or financial status…she saw fellow travelers in the journey of life. Her special tribe was her children and husband. She’d been married three times. Her belief in love and a desire to provide a caring home for her family kept her heart open to possibility. Her capacity to live the line, “Hope springs eternal,” led her to open a shop as “The Cookie Lady,” take on several jobs within the realm of her Criminal Justice degree, joyfully serve in a comedy club,  seek and win ribbons for various baking competitions, and even enter competitive body-building after having her six children. She had trophies that nodded to her drive to succeed. Yet, with all her accomplishments, I was most grateful for her generous kindness.  I remember her knock on my door when I was a single mother. Opening the door back then, let in the whirlwind of my sister and her bevy of children for a ten-minute visit to bring me a meal. No matter what turmoil was taking place in Mary’s life, she dealt with it by internalizing the phrase, “Fake it til you make it,” pasting on a smile and helping others.

Even when the cancer diagnosis was delivered.

I was in the car with my sister when she had to make a quick stop, to drop off one of her long blond wigs to a co-worker who wanted to dress up for a hot date with her husband. Mary had sass. Mary had pizazz. She had style, fun, and a bravery that allowed her to try on all sorts of looks…even as she dropped down to under a hundred pounds.

I am so grateful that I had enough sense to accept her offer to hand out Halloween candy at her house that final October in her life. She was in full-form with her striped stockings, black silk pointed hat, full make-up, and of course, a fantastic wig. She smiled and called each neighbor by name. She giggled with the litany of compliments to her fabulous persona. “Well, why wouldn’t I dress up?,” she laughed.

Susie, she now seemed to whisper as my keyboard sat untouched…do something. Do it all. That dream to touch people and bring your ideas to life doesn’t just happen. Take the steps to bring it to life.

I am 47 years old…turning 48 this year. Mary was 48 when that date was filled in after her dash. I want to live and love others. I will write the obituary as a list of my goals…and I will take steps toward those goals with gratitude, courage, perseverance and the memory of those who have led the way.

Living Life Large

Spring Is In The Air

  The sounds of summer are upon us...even if the weather is yet to catch up.  Through the closed, pane glass window comes the whine of a vigilant neighbor's lawnmower going to town on the Spring grass.  I, personally, am thrilled at our progress in this department- we bought a new lawnmower. Yes, the tags are still on it while the grass continues to inch it's way skyward, but this purchase signals our intent.

  More often than not I hear bursts of children's laughter through that same window indicating the air is warming up enough to lure them away from electronic devices and beckoning them to tear up the grass and good ol' fashioned dirt.  Maybe those tags can stay on the mower a bit longer...

  I've been treated to the long-awaited chorus of peepers over the last few weeks- though it's now a bit of a drive to hear them.  Not like in the past when we lived on 17 mostly wooded acres where every night was a full on symphony.  Peepers can always lift my spirit in a nod to my childhood, when dirt wasn't old fashioned- just fun.  Now, I'm sounding old as dirt...  In truth, that sound mixed with Spring's earthy scent breathes new life into my imagination.  Possibilities abound within this season.  Flowers are blooming while birds return in flocks.  Life seems to rebounding from laying dormant so long.

  I love that there are spectacular peculiarities within each season.  It's a reminder to embrace each one without wishing for the next.

Hmmm, this reminds me of a conversation with my sister about our children, on her son's 15th birthday.  We were marveling at how fast time has flown.  I shared a pearl of wisdom that was passed down to me years ago, during my angst over my oldest changing as he matured, "It is the parents that can not accept these changes that suffer the deepest empty nest depression.  Learn to embrace each season of life and you will be able to enjoy the change that comes. Then, it will be a natural progression to let go as children ready to leave the nest, rather than clinging so tightly to what once was."  I have found that tidbit to be a golden nugget.  

  When my children were all very young and close in age, I had to remind myself of the truth: it is possible to wish away the journey of life while rushing to the destination.  This was a challenge during the stage when I had three in diapers!  Or the time I opened my mini-van and realized all 5 back seats were fitted with car seats.  I've applied it to my my own progressing age- not getting hung up on what number of birthday I face.  I will only be this age once, might as well enjoy!  If this thought is lived out- there can be no regrets.

  Nature continues to guide and teach us about the intricacies of each numbered day...

 Enjoy each moment, with eyes wide open.  Live in the present and presents will be gifted.

The Sandwich Generation

  I've heard we are called the "Sandwich Generation."  Yes, those of us who have the honor, privilege, and hefty work load of caring for parents and children at the same time.

  It is an interesting place in life to exist.  The demands are tough yet the rewards are fulfilling.  To be able to care for your children and to care for those who cared for you while you were a child... it probably is poetic justice.  After all, you are being taught what sacrifices your parents made for you, in real time, as you make
those sacrifices for your own youngsters.

  My husband and I have discussed this very concept in our 5 minute meetings that are placed sporadically through the afternoon and evening.  We exchange thoughts on this topic in passing between running our kids to practice or heading to his parents house or the hospital to ensure they are fed and cared for.  We tend to pick up the conversation as we regroup during dinner prep or most likely dishes clean-up for our own children.  If I'm honest, lately it's been after the kids are tucked in bed that we have an opportunity to catch up on each other's day.  I pray, for his parents sake, that the in-depth care they currently require is temporary and once his mother has healed from her emergency surgery she will be able to do much more for herself.  She has always been so independent- she's like a different woman without her Polish, feistiness in full force.

  I don't know if it's the tone in the house that caused my youngest daughter, who is 6 years-old to look me in the eyes and tell me when she's grown up she will take care of Mommy and Daddy.  I don't quite know how I feel about that.  I suppose my response is a murky mixture of gratitude for a love so great, swirled with resistance to hinder her freedom, along with a hint of dreaded foreboding that we might actually need our children's care one day.

  Yes, the Sandwich Generation has a lot on their plate alongside a healthy dose of much to ponder about the past, present, and future.

Update

One funny side effect of going to school while my children do is the shared experience itself.  I no longer casually say, "I know you don't want to roll out of bed, get your rear in gear anyway!"  I now grumble along side them while we elbow each other in our fight for bathroom mirror prep time.  We're all in this together.

  Funny how diving into a shared experience can give a more insight into moments I used to pass judgment on.  Of course it makes sense- I'm living through similar experiences they face day in and day out.  I no longer chide about the dragging feet and forlorn faces on Monday mornings- I sympathize.  Yet, I am not as understanding about bad grades as I once was- I've been reminded of the need for hard work and I want to help my kids create great habits involving preparation and accomplishment.  If I can do it- they certainly can too.  My mantra of, "Turn OFF that stinkin' TV!," is heard more regularly now that I know what they are putting off in stall tactics.

  Over time, I will be curious to see what their memories of the time "Mom went back to school" bring about.  And there are days that I wonder if I will remember much of what currently feels like a foggy blur as I try to fit it all in and get it done.  My husband's parents have had recent serious health issues.  This has been effective in reminding me to: breathe, slow down, and remember what's important.  In the midst of the schedules, homework, and chaos I'm forced to face my own limitations and concede that when giving it your all- let my best be good enough.  If I am to succeed at this thing called school- then I must remember that the best education is within the school of LIFE.  At this stage in my life, the process of receiving a formal education must somehow blend with my, my husbands, and my children's lives- and not take center stage.  It is very sweet to witness how they do champion my efforts and pull together to allow me time to work.  It makes our play time that much more cherished.

So far, so good...albeit hectic and without much down time.  I know this too shall pass and soon it will be time to graduate- for my children and for me.  I've never been one to wish time or seasons of life away or to cling to certain ages.  I've sincerely tried to embrace each moment as it's lived, knowing it will only come my way once.  I think this is true for this unique time in my (though it's actually "our," since lives are entwined) life as well.

  Even with the end of the term nearing and finals breathing down my neck, I was blessed this afternoon to be able to visit my mother-in-law in the hospital, visit my oldest at his work, take a quick snuggly nap with my youngest, attend a son's lacrosse game, take two other sons shopping, treat one daughter to a big bag of m&m's for cleaning the house, and look through my jewelry with my oldest daughter for her formal dance tomorrow night.  I did get to give my husband a hug and kiss on the sideline at the game and I look forward to catching up on his day when he comes home from caring for his father.

  Life continues on while increasing in speed.  I find it a comfort to see my University's motto etched into the face of many a cornerstone around campus, reminding me: Carpe Diem!

Easter People

  Did you know there are 40 days in Lent but 50 days of Easter?  Alleluia- the time for somber reflection and sacrifice gives way to the JOY of the Resurrection!  During the Easter Vigil our Pastor, Fr. Larry Richards, reminded us of the importance of being a Resurrection people.  Though we will go through trials and sacrifice- that's not where our minds are to rest.  We are loved- that's what Easter is all about.

  On Good Friday, I was struggling with my son having a scheduled game, when I wanted him at the service with me.  I'm well aware there will be thoughts on both sides of this struggle.  I'll just say that a quick comment, "let go of the guilt!," from a supportive friend, was a balm that primed my heart for the message delivered during the Easter Vigil, "Live like you are loved!"  We were even encouraged to keep a log for 50 days revealing how we are loved: (i.e. Day 1: Today God showed His love for me by....)


  It's true that it's easy to have a self focus.  Easier yet, to let that focus fall on all we are doing wrong.  What if...it's not about us?  A novel idea, I know.  What a freeing, beautiful thought- that we are loved simply for being us...not for what we do.  Time to rest in the glory of His Love for us- and to turn to those around us and shower that love on them...just because they exist.
  
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) NAB

Pass it on <3

Confirmation

Stevie and his sponsor, Aunt Teresa

“This is not a graduation,” the Bishop said to the congregation of Confirmation students and their family and friends, “but rather a beginning.”  Bishop Lawrence Persico was referring to the role of the Sacrament of Confirmation in the lives of these students, most of whom are Juniors in high school. 

  The typical method of religious education within Catholic American parishes is to gather weekly for an hour or two to discuss Faith and the teachings of the Church which have been inspired by the Holy Spirit and passed down from centuries of tradition.  The original educators learned from Jesus, Himself, and used word of mouth and writing to share matters of faith that ultimately changed the trajectory of their own lives and the world itself. 

All in God's time

  I was in eighth grade when I received this Sacrament which brings the fullness of the Holy Spirit’s power.  What’s interesting, is that power is not always fully expressed at that very moment of reception.  This is what the Bishop was referring to when he spoke to the assembled group which included my son, Stephen Jr., telling them this moment was just the beginning.  After all, the Apostle Paul is the rare person who was knocked off his horse by a flash of Light, and was instantaneously converted.  Most of us are invited to faith by the planting of seeds that will sprout over time.  Different people drop seeds of inspired words, thoughts, ideas, and encouragement over the years of our formation.  We are learning, growing, and cultivating these seeds over our lifetime.  

  So, even as some of these students may be internally celebrating with thoughts of “Yes!, No more religious ed. classes!”  It’s time for us as parents to rely on what has actually taken place. They did in fact receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and He can guide them on this journey more perfectly than our human efforts.  While it can be scary to let them grow and make decisions, this moment brought comfort.  The second of our seven children to reach this milestone.  As a parent- I am still sprouting, called to a new phase in my faith: learning to trust that God's call and timing are perfect.

Bishop Persico, Fr. Larry Richards and the St. Joseph's Bread of Life Confirmation Class of 2017

              Congratulations Stevie and all the newly Confirmed, on this new phase in YOUR life!

Quotes That Inspire

Both of these quotes are from a favorite of mine: Henry David Thoreau. 

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” ~HDT

 

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”  ~HDT

  Both sentiments resonate with me.  I feel it is important to bear the first in mind while pursuing the second.

 

  May you, dear reader, always find inspiration in quotes that resonate within you and propel you in the direction of YOUR dreams!

 If you'd like, please feel free to share a favorite quote of yours in the comment section below or at Harborlily Creative on Facebook - Thank you!

 

Run vs. Running

  Run vs. running...this is the dilemma of many parents.

  But Susan, you may be thinking, how many types of running are there?  Oh ho...now that is a question from a novice to life with children.


Of course I would like to RUN (though truth be told I'm more like a snail even when I speed walk) and yet I find myself RUNNING my busy tribe of teens (4 in the house now), and younger children to lacrosse practice- 4 of these players in the house now as well, friends houses, the Mall, and wherever else as the need arises.  This in addition to mobilizing our large crew en masse to and from Mass, family get togethers, school concerts, etc.  Truth is, we use two different vehicles to mobilize us when we all need to go somewhere together.  Steve, my husband, drives an F-150 truck that seats 6 and I currently drive a Ford 500 that fits 5.  Together we can even fit a few friends, which is often the case.

  It seems the last couple weeks have been full of commuting since Steve's parents fell ill and needed hospital care (prayers appreciated) and my Mom had her second knee replacement which created the opposite effect and immobilized her for several weeks.  Other excitement took us to the hospital for the birth of a new nephew: "Welcome Maverick!" and of course there's the day to day driving to and from school.

I've noticed a road weary expression on my husband's face as he removes his jacket after a long day at work followed by "running" the kids to practice and meeting the needs of his parents.  He never says it but I see something ever so slight cross his face when a call is received from his parents, Bushia and Dzia Dzia, which means Grandma and Grandpa in Polish.  These calls often require him to don his jacket and grab his keys- I think that "something" is a remembrance of all the running they did back in the day.  He and his three brothers all played baseball, sometimes on different fields, while their Dad coached.

  I hope my children pick up on that subtle acceptance from their father.  If my life is an indicator of how fast time moves, then the days of running will soon be upon them.  As a matter of fact, right now as I write this, Steve is currently wearing his chauffeur's cap as he drives our 16 year-old to his driver's exam.  God bless my husband- he even took a half days' work to be able to do this running...and when that's done we have to head to Buffalo for a lacrosse game.


Whew! Which do you find more exhausting...Run or Running?

Unfettered Spring

This morning I felt the rain come drizzling down while simultaneously, a robin chirped for my attention. 

 I carried an umbrella but did not put it up due to the spontaneous whisps of warm air that lifted my misty hair. 

It was as if the weather were competing for my attention.

Spring seems to be an unfettered array of sights, scents, sounds, and temperatures that have lay in wait so long through the winter they can not help their jealous cry for attention.

Going Green

  Perhaps it's been a while since I've shared a story about my inventive, caring...walking a bit on the wild side, 6 year-old daughter, Evie. 

  This girl makes me laugh and typically melts my heart when she isn't making me gasp or brush the cold trickle of sweat away before it runs all the way down my neck as soon as she opens her mouth.  I've heard her described as "a favorite!"  I've been told she has no filter.  I've also received a note home from her teacher, informing me of the method she allows in the classroom for Evie to stand up and work when she just needs to dance and wiggle.  I LOVE Mrs. Green and her approach! 

    In this blog post I want to honor my daughter's free spirit and delight in her exceptionally creative mind with these 2 brief Highlights:

Millie

No pinches!

Last Friday was St. Patrick's Day and I was in a rush to get to school.  All the kids except Evie had left the house.  I was trying to prod her into slinging on her back pack when she voiced her concern.  "But Mom, Millie isn't wearing any green!  What if she gets pinched?"   I looked over at our 3 year-old
chocolate lab and mused about the tradition of getting pinched if you don't wear green on St. Patty's Day.  "Well, hon, if you look close enough you can see green specks in her eyes."  It was a lame attempt I know, but I was in a hurry.  I grabbed my backpack and hers and turned around to see her holding on to Millie.  "C'mon Evie," I called to her, "she'll be alright."  She hurried out the door while explaining, "Millie will be alright cuz I tucked a big green leaf in her collar, now no one will pinch her!"  Now why didn't I think of that?

I really don't need to be wordy for this next pictured moment...

I'll just tell you I was laying in Evie's bed while tucking her in on St. Patrick's Day night and looked over to see this about 3 feet from my face...


This girl takes her holidays seriously.  If you look closely you can see the sparkle of glitter lip gloss...much to my husbands horror and my hilarity.  The "lucky" deer mount was just sitting in the closet across the hallway.  I guess Evie decided to rescue it and make it more festive.  And that little white "dot" on the sparkly hat- that's a cut-out heart, made with love by Evie.

  There is brilliance and fantastic imagination that runs rampant in my little girl's mind.  I will love and celebrate her unique approach to life and thank God for gifting me with reminders to think outside the status quo and find joy in ideas I wouldn't have thought of on my own.
 

Happy First Day of Spring!

They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself.
                               ~Henry David Thoreau

Lessons Learned from Live Tweeting

  Last night I chose to undertake a school assignment I'd been putting off due to feeling intimidated: Live Tweeting.  Others may call this Live Blogging.  Either way- it was an interesting night- on many levels.  I could have chosen an on-campus event but decided to accompany my husband, a Code Enforcement Officer for the City of Erie, to a Neighborhood Revitalization meeting.

  This project opened my eyes up to:

 a) How difficult Live Tweeting can be- my Professor has likened it to "Drinking from a fire hose."  Live Tweeting is using the social media platform Twitter, which allows posts of 140 characters or less, to share an event in real time.   At times the information is coming fast and furious- and we get docked for misspelled words...but even worse is misinformation!  I appreciate his concern for good, accurate news.

b) The topic of the evening- Saving a section of our town that has fallen into blight.  This area of Buffalo Road is one I've traveled for most of my life.  I went to grade school a few miles up the road, not too far from the distressed neighborhood.  I often drive through it to visit my family and  

friends who live further east in Harborcreek.  Over the years it's disrepair has become increasingly evident.  It was a bit surreal to not just drive by, but rather pull into the community center and spend time with those who live and work in this area.  We are all part of the Erie Community- even though it can feel like we live in different worlds.

c) The discussion of getting neighbors involved and creating a communal vision.  The concerns and fears discussed in the room were valid- no one wants bullets entering their home and yet, the hope that was stirred in the room by a concerned group gathered to do more than just complain was inspirational.                

d) The sincere compassion of the hosts/presenters committed to helping this neighborhood come together to affect change was positively moving.  The meeting was far from boring because of the dynamic presentation of issues and clear guidance on taking the baby steps needed before running with the project could ensue.

e) The interaction of my husband, Steve, with these citizens, who rely on his hard work to help clean up their neighborhood, was eye-opening.  I witnessed the frustration he experiences in trying to help improve this neighborhood's quality of life face off with limitations that impede that goal.  The inability to locate abandoned property owners, absentee landlords, and untended vacant lots were just a few of the hot topics.  Steve's grace under pressure of heated questioning had me feeling so proud of his commitment, knowledge, and authentic desire to make a difference  That willingness to work WITH the community won their respect.  The bridge to team-work was strengthened when he offered his direct line in response to the question who they could send their complaints to.

f) Finally, the sobering realization that when the meeting was done and my computer tucked away it was time to say goodnight to the teens and elderly that were sweeping the community center and putting chairs away.  I was heading home where my children safely waited for me.  These meeting participants were heading to their homes that still held levels of uncertain danger.  My evening was about "covering an event" theirs was about changing their environment.  Change takes time...and involved people.  It is not an overnight process.

This morning I woke with the meeting heavy on my heart.  I pondered this list until I just had to write it out...for you.  Perhaps together we can spread the word and lend a hand to help a community- wherever you live.  Because I guarantee that even if you live in a beautiful, safe, clean, and caring environment- not too far from you are people- yes, human beings, your neighbors who live a different reality.  If the situation were reversed what would you hope they would do?

I'm going to share my assignment here if  you'd like to learn about the meeting or even see the end result of using Twitter (a social media platform that allows you to post using 140 or less characters) than sharing to Storify (a platform that can create a story out of a series of your sequential "Tweets."

Live Tweeting Assignment

 

Weathering The Weather

  Snow is back.  No big surprise here- at least it shouldn't be.  However, with 70 degree balmy air last week, this week's dip below freezing would be able to catch any Erie non-native off guard.  Having lived here a majority of my 45 years I've come to expect the unexpected in local weather trends.  In the Spring, it's a given that all bets are off.  Yes, trees will be budding and flowers do brave the unknown to push up through the frosty thawed earth to see what's going on.  Even they know better than to be shocked at the arctic welcome their trembling new greenery receives. 

  I believe our weather here in Erie, PA has shaped our community into a people that are able to weather the storms of life as well as the changing skies and air currents.  We tend to be a hearty group that faces what life has to offer and continues to push up through the hardened soil of tough times in the hope that springs eternal or the eternal hope of Spring.  If you've lived here your whole life or even made it through the fluctuating cycle of one season in our beloved town- you would understand why so many choose to stay.  It is not for this time of year- though our winters are particularly breathtaking in their stark, ice-covered wonderland appeal.  However, it is precisely this blast of daunting ice that sifts the weak from our lake's shores.  For those who batten down the hatches and keep their focus fixed on what is to come- the allure lies just under the frost in the beauty that waits to unfurl it's grandeur.  Yes, for these robust souls who've loyally bundled up and tethered themselves to our blustery hitching post- the reward lies in the unparalleled beauty of spring, summer, and fall in our fair northeastern town. 

  A word of encouragement to all you strong of heart and frosty of fingertip- Hold tight (in warm mittens) against these raging bitter gusts that tug at your resolve to endure.  Know in the depths of your heart that the finest greenery has been reserved for you.  The fragrant soil awaits the proper beckon of perfect timing when, called forth, it's scent shall fill your senses with gladness and reward your steadfast determination.  Our waters that appear frozen with ill intent shall thaw and come lapping at our shores with repentant calm to bring you solace and sounds of peace.  There will be the victory dance of sun risen colors that light the rooftop of every Erie citizen that has weathered this winter with courageous willpower.  Yes, dear community that I have come to bond with in the sopping entryways of shopping centers, ice-rink worthy parking lots, and warm mecca of movie theaters visited to break the monotony of cabin fevered chaos,  I salute you with a steam-breathed  "Almost there!," uttered through frozen lips and squinted, watery eyes.  I wish you warmth in the final affront of winter as we all set our face toward those days that make these wintry skirmishes worthwhile.