Is this heaven? - Part 2: No it's a snow day.

Today I've experienced my first fully comfortable sense of home at Muchmore. It's the third time I've been "snowed" in since December. Before the holidays I bemoaned the idea that I had not considered what life would be like without snow days and how important they have become to my better mental health. Naturally, the perpetual grey of the Cincy winter made me worry about trading the ups and downs of Wisconsin's snow season for the purgatory of perpetual grey. After the frigid December temperatures I experienced in Wisconsin over Christmas, I came back suitably appreciative of the grey landscape that rarely dips below 25. Yeah, I can adjust to that. Nevertheless, I have been pleasantly surprised by how little it takes to shut Cincy down. We've been on the edge of the great MidAtlantic blast and are now the proud owners of 6" of white "frosting." They've already issued a liberal, unscheduled leave for telework tomorrow and I couldn't be more pleased. Not only have I gotten more work done at home today than typically at the office, but I've also made a double batch of chocolate chip cookies (unburned), a pot of paella, and gotten a feel for being "stranded" and comfortable.

The Cincy Walkabout.

My jeans have become snug and my recent health club trips haven't started to show effects yet, so I decided to walk "lower Muchmore" this afternoon. This isn't a walking neighborhood as you'll see from the pictures -- steep streets with little shoulder and no sidewalks. I was vigilant about the traffic but found spots where I could ponder the landscape for a few moments and capture little things I miss when I pass by in the car.

Hidden Treasures.

One of the hidden treasures in the neighborhood is tucked next door on the property of my neighbor to the north. There is no one living in this beautiful house with a drive more treacherous than my own. It's an expensive house that I'd like to see inside. Actually, as I think of it, I'd should have my realtor take me in for a peak. But what I wanted to mention was the magical little creek that winds under a quaint little bridge that connects the wicked drive to the real world. I love that the creek is a windy valley stream that meanders from one side of Muchmore to the other right in front of my house. In the fall, I could hear the splashing of its water which makes me anxious to hear it through open windows this spring and summer.

When the stream emerges on the other side of the road, it surfaces in Muchmore Park-- a tiny little gathering place with a small shelter, some park toys and a picnic bench. It looks forgotten now but in the fall I often saw a couple of mid-sized children playing there and it was sweet and quiet and reminiscent of what being a child was like when I was young.

Right next to the bottom of the park is the Mariemont Players. Like everything else, it looks different up close in the daylight. I like the building and, particularly, that it is an old school that is now a theatre.

Across from the theatre the stream meanders to the other side of the road again. When I crossed to look closer, I noticed a great albino Sycamore tree surrounded by a cluster of standard grey trunks.

Instead of continuing down Muchmore, I took the road usually not taken — a side street that is only a few blocks down from my house and only a couple blocks long. I may have driven it once, but never realized that the Calvary Presbyterian church is situated right in the middle of that block. It is old and small and its colorful door with the red cross was striking against the black and white landscape.

In another block, the street dead ends. I turned left and found a marvelous surprise. Across from a forgotten house was a stone living room. On the side of the road, nestled in the deep white were three stone thrones. Up in a tree overlooking the chair furthest to the right was a green, vine-wrapped tree holding two white animal skulls. Very reminiscent of Georgia O'Keefe's Taos paintings only monochromatic.

Someday, as I get to know the neighbors better, I'm hoping the secrets of this strange installation will be revealed. For today, it is enough to know it's there. When I am in need of a little adventure--a compelling mystery, I can stroll by and imagine who built it, why, and much more . . .