Oh, the weather outside is frightful. Even though winter has just officially begun, I fear that we’re in for a doozy, which my dictionary defines as “extraordinary” and “one of a kind.” As many of you know, I love getting out regardless of the season. Whether I’m checking out a puppet show at the Delaware Youth Center (www.visitcallicoon.com), or a huge star headlining at a world-class venue, (www.bethelwood scenter.org), there is always plenty to do right here in our own backyard. Should you doubt me, (which is just-plain-crazy!) click on “Calendar” at the top of the page at www.riverreporteronline.com for weekly updates on who, what, when and where. And if you want The River Reporter to list your event, email Isabel@riverreporter.com and she will do her utmost to get the word out.

That said, there are times when the weather (argh) doesn’t cooperate. While I had planned to attend an annual winter dinner (www.bethelbusiness.com) mere blocks from the house, Mother Nature had her own an agenda, which kept me housebound regardless of the proximity. Dharma and I were both psyched to visit with Santa and play with the kids in Barryville (www.catskillmountainsresort.com) last Saturday, but alas… the snow just wouldn’t let up and my driveway was a sheet of ice, preventing us from attending. I’m waayy behind on holiday shopping and as always, wanted to check out the store displays and decorations in the region (see page 17), but it wasn’t easy. The pick-up is 20 years old (uh huh) and still running, but my road hadn’t even been plowed (since it wasn’t a school day), so while there was a will, there was simply no way.

Speaking of holiday décor, I’m kind of old fashioned. While I’m not very clever myself, I’m often tempted to try my hand at homemade decorations and look for inspiration all around. Even though modern technology has plenty to offer, I still find myself drawn to “old school” displays, be they truly vintage or simply inspired by same, finding myself a bit snobby when I come across gigantic blow-up elves and snowmen, dependent on built-in fans and unsightly extension cords snaking across the mounds of snow. Still, there is something for everyone, and as Mom was fond of saying: “That’s what makes the world go ‘round.”

In need of the top three snowstorm necessities (milk, bread and t.p.) I braved the elements and finally slid down the hill, white-knuckling it to the closest outlet, while scanning the roads for deer and black ice, camera at the ready, in case I saw something pretty along the way.

Slipping down Main Street in Liberty, I happened across elementary school crossing guard Harriet Forshay all decked out for the holidays, looking as festive as humanly possible. Pulling off the road I asked if I could take her picture, and Harriet grinned from ear to ear. “For The River Reporter?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting for years!” she laughed, and struck a pose. “Yours is such an important job,” I said, while admiring her outfit. “It’s so cool that you dress up for the kids.” Giving me the thumbs-up, Harriet smiled again. “I love my job!” she enthused as I jumped back in the truck, on my mission for the elusive t.p.

Admiring the simple elegance of the wreaths adorning the doors of St. Peter’s Church, I completed my mission and lurched back up the hill toward Kenoza Lake, stopping on occasion to take pics of lawn displays, old and new. I don’t watch cartoons, but the dog does on her iPawed, so I was able to identify a blow-up (argh) “Minion” from the 2015 Universal Pictures mega-hit “Despicable Me” that was actually kinda cute, despite the extension cord.

Right next door was a perfect example of a ‘50s-inspired tableaux, replete with what appeared to be handmade wooden cut-outs. I snapped more photos while wondering aloud if I could try my hand at a project like that without actually severing a finger in the process. “Doubtful” the dog whimpered back at me. “Face it” she barked. “You’re a klutz.”

Somehow I managed to get back to the house, even though my road was (argh) still unplowed. I plugged in the glue gun, determined to craft something of my own, braving the elements and hanging it up. “It’s kinda pretty, right girl?” I rasped at the dog. “Whatever you say” she growled. “Feed me.” Frustrated that I had little to go on for this week’s column, I whined about it to a pal in (argh) Florida who said “Don’t worry, you’re the ‘Jerry Seinfeld’ of the Catskills. Won’t be the first time you wrote something about nothing. IMHO.”