We didn’t get a lot of snow this winter, until suddenly we did. This morning, I woke up to another winter effin wonderland, which is quite lovely until suddenly it’s not. This (the photo above) is the top of our hill, although my iPhone doesn’t quite capture how pretty a fresh snowfall like this is. It won’t last because temps will be rising pretty soon. So I went out in my slippers and snapped this. When I’m finally out of this place and sitting on my terrace sipping a chaya smoothie, I’ll be glad I took these photos and may even browse through them from time to time.
The sun is up, so now I’m in the sunroom in the rear of our little Cape Cod-style house in Black Rock, Connecticut. The inside of the sunroom is decorated kind of tropical … rattan furniture, a sisal rug, birds of paradise and parrots painted on the walls and ceilings back when trompe l’oeil was the big thing. We did all this well before we ever considered moving to a warmer place. I was in my 30s and all I wanted to do was move to New York City. I’d have preferred Montreal to Mexico, just because I thought the cold made for a serene and peaceful community. (Paul and I even took a French class.) Cold didn’t hit me back then like it does now.
But even then, the tropics were on our minds. We wanted the house to honor both my English ancestors and Paul’s Puerto Rican heritage. Still, our decorating choices also foreshadowed the project we’re on to today.
When we first moved here 20 years ago, we packed the sunroom with furniture from my old townhouse in Meriden, in central Connecticut. At first, it almost looked like we had transported my entire living room, so we jokingly called it the Meriden Room. Then we dragged in elephant ear and lots of other jungle-y potted plants. We brought in humidifiers to coax our orchids along. It looked like a rain forest, and it was terribly impractical. Today, we’ve deforested the sunroom, but it’s still a tropical-themed space, which is striking when the windows look out to a blanket of white.
It’s where I sat, in the same chair I’m in now, reading Joanna van der Gracht de Rosado’s “Magic Made in Mexico,” which I bought in December 2010, a month after our first trip to Yucatán. I found myself commenting on the author’s blog, describing how uplifting it was to be surrounded by winter snow and reading her inspiring and insightful book about Mexico’s culture and society. The correspondence continued for months, and eventually she became my dear friend, and dare I say Mexico Mentor.
Two years and several months later I still get out of bed before sunrise wondering what’s new online from Mexico. It’s my great escape from a life in which I’ve made no big moves or decision in 20 years, a life in which I’m not getting any younger and where a changing technology and media landscape is nudging me toward a big life change before I hit 50.
I don’t know how to tell you this, but you northerners will indeed miss the snowscapes when you move to Merida. You will hear about a huge dump in the Connecticut or Ohio or wherever and in an attempt to “feel it” you´ll maybe press your nose down on the iced glass of lemonade in your hand… You’ll start to think that maybe the snow wasn’t so bad. But then you’ll lean back in your poolside rocker, look up at the cornflower blue Yucatecan sky and heave a great sigh of relief… it is human nature to long for what is out of our reach
Time will tell, Joanna. I can see missing autumn foliage, or that first crocus in early spring, but I won’t miss the snow dumps!
Here in Yucatan we’ve had a cold snap the last few days. It’s almost 10am and is a chilly 73 as I sit on my patio and enjoy your blog post. The snow is beautiful but I’m happy to admire from afar. Looking forward to your next Merida visit. I can guarentee that in May our cold snap will have left to make room for balmy weather.
Rainie
Someone in our circle of friends suggested on Skype that I do a New England room in my new Merida house. An emphatic NO!
Your posts always make me think. I find that I am reading them in the early morning hours with my first cup of coffee, mulling over your words as I drink my second and finally commenting on your post by my third cup. Today I looked out my window and saw the brown, dreary landscape of the midwest… as a child in the Hudson River Valley I would have seen the pond, swamps and ridge of the valley. Soon I will see the parrots of the trees in the next garden and perhaps in my own trees when I grow some! I guess I’m just another ex-pat wanna be with dreams of Merida!
We accept mid-westerners here in Merida! I’m from Ohio and they took me.
Rainie
You’d think there would be more of us, wouldn’t you? Sometimes when the architect send down photos of the progress being made, I’m just looking at the palm trees in the background. It’s such an enticing thought.
I’m looking out a a freighter on the Hudson that’s been deep in the water for over an hour…and am wondering if I’ll miss moments like these once I’ve moved to Merida.
Total white out and bald eagles hunkered down in the trees behind the house waiting for a fish to fall out of the sky!
Your post reminds me that one March, sometime soon, I’ll be admiring orchids blooming in my courtyard and tropical birds bathing in my pool. Thanks, Lee!
You should post photos on your blog! Your part of the Hudson Valley sounds like magic.
Lee, I am reading your lovely prose and thinking “how old is he?” Your post sounds like a voice-over intro to an epic film. One where you’re an old man looking back on your life. Any minute you will enter the scene wearing acid washed jeans and there will be a subtitle saying 1983. Darling, you are a few years younger than I…and we are young! Just want to get that straight
I too am in Connecticut and admiring *not* the 14 inches (and counting) of snow out my window. I too, need a dose of Mexico this morning and wish I had my own tropical sunroom. I’ll just have to move my orchid onto my desk and have a margarita by noon.
Happy snowblowing!
Laura
14 inches? We’re getting off easy by the shoreline. I have to haul my butt to work today, so sadly there will be no margaritas until sundown!
You’d have a snow day if you were a bit further north. 22 inches and counting here…
It’s already melting down here!