Monthly Archives: January 2018

News

Five for Friday: By the Lake in January

42 Comments

When it comes to the weather, this has been an up and down kind of month. January started out with below zero temperatures, mellowed into nice winter weather, and has now spiked above 40°F. Rain is in the forecast for today, and there’s a foggy mist over snow that has become hard and dirty. Readers, it looks like March out there, and the horror of this is almost too much to bear. As if this weren’t enough, tomorrow the temperature is supposed to take another nose dive, with freezing rain, severe cold, and slippery roads. Even by Maine standards, this is extreme weather.

However, on Wednesday, it was a fine winter’s day, and at dusk, at the golden hour, we went to Norcross Point, a little park in town by Maranacook Lake. In spring, summer, and fall, we park the car there and use the park as a starting point for our bike rides. We always see people launching boats as well as using the many benches and tables to relax and have picnics. Not this time of year.

But with a glowing cerulean sky and an expanse of snow, the park and lake are beautiful and welcoming to snowmobilers and those who like ice fishing.

This picture shows the expanse of snow and sky, and the lake is so covered with snow that you can’t tell where the land ends and the water begins.

Empty benches overlook an ice-fishing shack.

A view of that same shack through the gazebo.

Nobody grilling on a snowy day.

A bare tree against a deep blue sky. One of my favorite subjects.

Here’s hoping that there will be more snow, no more freezing rain, and no more March weather until March.

Celebrate

Celebrating Esther’s 80th Birthday

39 Comments

Yesterday, I took my friend Esther out to lunch to celebrate her eightieth birthday, which, in fact, was the end of November.  However, between the holidays and bad weather, there really wasn’t a good time for me to take her out before Christmas, and we settled on January.

“After all,” Esther said. “I’ll still be eighty.”

Indeed she would. For recent readers who might not be familiar with Esther, here is a brief history of how we became friends. I met Esther through my mother. They both lived in Vassalboro, a small town in central Maine, about eight miles from Waterville and twenty-five miles away from where I live. As Esther put it, “Your mother was the best friend I ever had, and that kind of friendship doesn’t come along very often.” No, it doesn’t.

I often got together with my mother and Esther for lunch, tea, and other events, and over the years, she became my friend, too. When my mother died ten years ago, I continued my friendship with Esther. Not only do I enjoy Esther’s lively company, but she also provides a connection to my mother, and this means a lot to me.

As if all this weren’t enough, Esther is also a treasure trove of stories about rural life in Maine in the 1940s and 1950s, a time that seems nearly as remote and as different as the pioneer days. Esther was born in Vassalboro, and her family was very poor. But because they lived in the country, they were able to grow a lot of their own food.

“We hardly went to the grocery store,” Esther said. “Going to Waterville was a big occasion. For meat, we mostly ate deer, and when my father got one, we all gathered around the piano, sang songs, and celebrated. But I hated having to help cut up the deer. The flesh still smelled so alive, and it reminded me that the animal had been living not long ago.”

I nodded sympathetically, marveling at her country grit. I tried to picture myself butchering a deer when I was a young girl, and here my imagination failed me. I know I couldn’t have done it.

Esther said, “My father might have killed deer, but when he was haying, he always went in a big circle around nesting birds. He didn’t hunt for fun. He hunted for food.”

Again, I nodded. Hunting for food I understand but killing for fun, I do not.

“We ate some of the meat fresh,” Esther continued. “But my mother canned a lot of it for the winter.”

As Esther spoke, I thought about my own mother, of how she, too, grew up in poverty. My mother lived with her single mother and her grandmother. But they didn’t live in the country where they could grow much of their own food. Instead, they lived in a tiny apartment in Skowhegan, a small mill town up the Kennebec River from Waterville. But it seems my great-grandmother was a resourceful cook, and my mother often marveled at how even when there cupboards were bare, my great-grandmother always managed to put something together for supper.

“The good old days, ” I said to Esther.

Esther is one of those people who really does have a twinkle in her eye, and she responded, “When I wasn’t good and I wasn’t old.”

We both laughed.

Here’s a picture I took of Esther yesterday at Joseph’s Fireside Steakhouse in Waterville.

Happy birthday, Esther! May you have many more.

News

Five for Friday: Power Regained and More Snowy Pictures

51 Comments

Our power is back, and it was only out for two hours. To say we were thrilled doesn’t begin to describe how we felt when after only a short while, the power whirred back into our house. Is there any sound sweeter than the refrigerator coming back to life? Not after a power outage, there isn’t.

In fact, Clif and I are well prepared for power outages, even though we hate them. We have plenty of wood for the furnace, stored water in buckets, canned food, oil for the lamps, and good flashlights.  And most important, peanut butter.

We did much of the clean-up yesterday, but there is more to do. At the end of the driveway, we have a wall o’snow left by the road plow. It’s too much for Little Green, and I have to chunk the snow first to make it manageable for the snow thrower and, of course, Clif.  Nature’s gym.

Here are some pictures of the blizzard, as it was happening and afterward.

Yesterday, it wasn’t too cold, but it sure was snowy.

Blizzard or not, the birds must eat.

The entrance at night.

A little guardian by the door.

The front entrance by day. We are certainly tucked in the snow now.

 

 

Nature, News

The Bomb Cyclone Cometh

47 Comments

Here we go again. Miserable weather is coming to Maine. This time it’s a blizzard, a northeaster, a big, bad storm that has been tagged as a “bomb cyclone” by the meteorologists. (According to the New York Times, a bomb cyclone is a storm that has a sharp drop in barometric pressure.) But as Nestor Ramas from the Boston Globe put it, this term “seems designed to evoke maximum terror.”

“Terror” might be too strong a word to describe our reaction, but bomb cyclone, with its potential high wind and resultant destruction, certainly got our attention. We have sprung into action. Pots of water sit on our stove, we bought extra lamp oil, and we have canned soup in the cupboard. For the third time in three weeks, we are ready for a power outage. And, yes, readers, this is getting old.

I love the natural world, and I love living in the woods, but I also love heat and power and movies and other gifts that technology brings. A pioneer woman I am not. As it so happens, I am reading Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser. Let’s just say that Pa and the pioneers were not the exemplary citizens portrayed in the Little House books. For me, this makes Laura Ingalls Wilder’s story richer and more interesting, and I am not bitterly disappointed by these revelations. But I digress, and I will write more about this book in another post.

Back to the weather. In central Maine, the forecast is for twelve to sixteen inches of snow, nothing we can’t handle. The wind is projected to peak at 20 to 30 mph with gusts up to 45 mph. This is more worrying as the high winds might cause power outages.

But for now anyway, we are warm and snug. We had our big meal—turkey burritos with corn—at noon, which gave us plenty of time to wash up the dirty dishes. (No power means no water.)

Midafternoon, Clif will go out with Little Green to clear the snow from the driveway, the area around the woodpile, and the paths to the bird feeders. For readers new to this blog, here is a picture of Clif and Little Green from the last storm on Christmas Day. (Little Green is electrically run, so when the power is out, we must shovel by hand.)

Onward ho, Clif and Little Green!

 

Celebrate, Movies, Nature

Living North of North

56 Comments

The holidays are over, the kids are gone, and we are feeling a little despondent. We so love this time of food, family, generosity—oh, the world needs more of this homely virtue—twinkling lights, and, yes, beauty.  Winter is one of the most beautiful times in Maine, and on a clear day, the skies are so blue that I feel exhilarated.

It snowed on Christmas day, a storm that left us about eight inches of light, fluffy snow. Nothing unusual for central Maine. Naturally, this meant we had to clean up the snow, but as the saying goes, many hands make the task light.

Here is Shannon, just barely visible in her blue parka, cleaning our car.

Here is our front deck, after it was shoveled.

Then, as it sometimes happens in Maine in the winter, it got very, very cold.

This little junco is puffed up against the cold. We are diligent about keeping the feeders filled for them and for the other birds.

It is so cold, that the windows in the bedroom are frosted.

But our backyard looks like a winter wonderland, so all is forgiven.

Maine is not the northern-most state in our country, but in the winter, we definitely feel as though we are north of north. Snow, cold, quiet, and a hunkering down for the winter give us the illusion of being separate from the rest of the country. How far removed Washington feels, almost as though it is on another planet.

This, of course, is false thinking. What happens in Washington ripples outward and upward, affecting us all. But during this time of stillness and cold, I can almost pretend that time has slowed down, allowing us to focus on movies, books, and tea with friends.

And speaking of movies…we saw four good ones over the holidays, all worth putting on your list if  you are a movie buff.  Our favorite was Darkest Hour, about Winston Churchill and England’s decision to enter World War II.  A couple of times I was moved to tears, especially as the little civilian fleet left to rescue the soldiers at Dunkirk. Oh, my! Then, there is Churchill’s famous “We shall fight on the beaches” speech.

My second favorite was Downsizing, a parable about climate change, our overconsuming ways, and bright spots of decency. No answers are provided, and the silly sight of a shrinking Matt Damon does not detract from the serious message of this movie.

Third was All the Money in the World, about the kidnapping of Paul Getty III.  Christopher Plummer replaced Kevin Spacey in playing Getty the elder, and Plummer did an outstanding job, especially when you consider his scenes were filmed in just nine days. As for all that money? Too much for one person. Too much.

Finally, we saw the latest Star Wars movie, which was good enough, but it just didn’t have sparkle. The plot was too basic and involved too much chasing. Still, it was wonderful to see Carrie Fisher in her last role—how good she was!—as well as some bright spots that were, alas, not allowed to shine long enough.

It’s been a good year for movies, and there are more to look forward to, perfect for this cold time of year.

So now onward, ho to January and February.