Monthly Archives: January 2024

Food, Winter

Ice, Snow, and Poetry

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Last week, the weather was uncertain. First, we had freezing rain, and early Tuesday morning, I woke up to the roar of the town’s sanding-plow truck as it rushed past our house. Believe it or not, this sound is comforting to me. I am so grateful to the drivers of these huge trucks, which go out in the worst weather at all times of day. Our town takes good care of our roads, which in turn makes life safer for its citizens. In the winter, we have a lot of bad weather in Maine, but people must still go to work, to appointments, and do assorted errands. Having driveable roads is a must.

I’m not a fan of freezing rain, but its aftermath is pretty.

The icicles on the bird feeder,

and the icicles on the hedge.

Even the glazing on the salt and sand buckets,

as well as the glazing on the car.

Later in the week,  it snowed.

Snowy branches, snowy roof.

To clean the driveway, Clif had to use our trusty electric snow-thrower, Snow Joe.

Finally, on a cold January Sunday, there was poetry at the Wayne General Store in Wayne, Maine. Yup, Wayne, Maine. Population: 1,129.

The general store is a sweet place with mismatched tables and chairs, which gives it a very cozy atmosphere.

There is a bakery in the store, with delicious bread and pastries.

The event was host by David Moreau, a fine poet whom I’ve know for many years.

My friend Claire Hersom was one of the featured poets.

Also Lori Douglas Clark with David Moreau listening appreciatively.

How lovely it was to sit in this snug store, sip tea, have brunch, and listen to poetry. A finest kind of day as we would say in Maine.

Claire has very kindly allowed me to use one of her winter poems in my blog. Many thanks, Claire.

Thank You

– by Claire Hersom

 

Thank you

for the winter wind,

and the lake,

its water like a stone

 

and for this quiet time

to build words again,

tucked into the foothills

hard as iron like flowers

waiting for spring

 

and for change, its core –

a small violence,

inching soft, inner bodies

out of hard shells,

our frozen winter grief

out, where it can vanish

and blow away

as if air and sun were its wings

and it, a necessary and expected

flight

 

Previously published in The Anglican Theological Review

(italicized phrases from the hymn In the Bleak Midwinter, lyrics

by Christina Rossetti.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter

Mid-January: Brisk Weather and Storm Report

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Winter,  it seems, has finally come to Maine. For now the rain is a thing of the past—may it stay that way until the end of March or the beginning of April—and cold weather has set in. We’ve also had some snow, very welcome not only for its beauty but also for its ability to insulate the plants from the extreme cold.

Here are some views from my windows.

First, the temperature a couple of days ago. Brisk, as Mainers would put it in their understated way.

With temps that cold we often get frost on some of our older windows.

And our backyard looks very wintry. Birds, in great numbers, are visiting the feeders. If you look closely, you can see a few juncos on the snow. The other day, Clif and Dee thought they might have seen a red-headed woodpecker, very rare for central Maine. I have never seen one and will be on the lookout.

Some people dread January and February, but I don’t. I find it cozy and restful, a time for popcorn and tea at 4 p.m. A time to watch movies and television series in the evening. I don’t mind the dark, and I don’t mind the cold. I suppose if I did, I wouldn’t live in Maine.

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Recovery is slow from the storms we had in December, which knocked out power to 750,000 customers and flooded rivers in inland Maine, and in January, which didn’t knock out so much power but caused terrible destruction along the coast. Some business owners are finding that their insurance doesn’t cover flooding and are at a loss as to what to do. I am hoping that communities and grants will help these businesses recover from the damage.

In Maine, as in many other places, communities were built up along the coast and inland rivers, which were used as watery highways before the industrial revolution and the internal combustion engine. In central Maine, where I live, our state capital is along the Kennebec River, which I have often featured on this blog. The picture below was taken last summer, when the river was quiet.

The same is true for other small cities, including Gardiner, Waterville (where I was born), and Skowhegan, which are all along the Kennebec. Through the years, the Kennebec has occasionally flooded, but never in December and seldom as bad. Usually, the water laps the parking lots but doesn’t destroy buildings.

This time was different, but it is likely that such storms will become more common in the years to come. So, here is the question: How close to rivers should communities be? How close to the ocean shoreline? I don’t have an answer, but it seems like it would be quite a job to relocate main streets that are close to rivers. I can’t even picture where they would go, but perhaps this is a failure of imagination on my part.

In the face of such challenges, it is easy to feel hopeless about climate change and the destruction it will wreak. Just in the nick of times comes this episode of Notes from America with Kai Wright: Doom. Denial. ‘Hopium.’ What About Climate Action? In this episode, Kai Wright interviews people who have made a difference in their communities and are working to stop things from getting worse. So inspiring and well worth the listen.

On a similar note, one of my blogging friends, Caroline of Susanne’s Mom’s Blog, shares inspiring articles from around the world about people who are making a difference. The focus isn’t always on climate change—although sometimes it is—but the pieces always illustrate the power of creativity and how people can band together to do good things. When they want to.

The time has come when we should all want to.

Animals - especially dogs, Celebrate, Food, Winter

Second Christmas

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Because our daughter Shannon and our son-in-law Mike spent Christmas in North Carolina with his folks, we decided to have a belated celebration the first weekend in January. Unfortunately, the weather gods had other plans for us, and a storm kept Shannon and Mike home that weekend. The next weekend, then, we decided.

However, those weather gods were plotting yet again to send a storm our way, but this time we outsmarted them. Shannon and Mike came the day before the storm and left the day afterward. I am happy to report that we celebrated the holiday in our usual simple, cozy way, and it really did feel like Christmas.

It was lovely to see the girls again.

And the storm that came to central Maine on Saturday made it feel all the more like Christmas.

On Saturday morning, there were presents and pumpkin bread. In the afternoon, appetizers and a new game—Betrayal at House on the Hill. In the evening, homemade cheddar cheese soup.

Dessert, unfortunately, didn’t turn out that way it should have. I pressed chocolate chip cookie dough in a skillet to be baked and brought warm to the table and served with vanilla ice cream. But even though the skillet cookie was nicely browned on top, the middle was gooey to the point of being raw. We thought that perhaps I should have used only half the batter. Readers, any suggestions? I’m willing to give it another try.

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While the storm on Saturday wasn’t bad for central Maine—snow mixed with a little rain—it was devastating for our coast, which hadn’t recovered from the previous storm. More flooding, more property damage, more roads destroyed. It’s heartbreaking to see the damage. Even though I live inland, I love the coast, and as a Mainer, I feel connected to it. I have been to many of the places that were ravaged by the storm, driven on  roads now destroyed.

Governor Mills declared a civil state of emergency for all eight coastal counties. And rightly so. Those communities will need a lot of aid to recover from the storms.

All in all, in the past few weeks, Mainers have received quite the punch from storms causing damage that would have been inconceivable when I was young. Yes, we had a lot of snow, and the snowbanks really were taller than I was when I was a child. We plowed, we shoveled, and went about our business. As far as I can recall, there wasn’t much damage, and we hardly ever lost our power.

But these wind storms in the winter are something new, and because of the rising sea, the damage is made worse along the coast.

The effects of climate change are with us now, and we have to deal with increasingly destructive storms.

I can only hope that we have the personal and political will to stop the climate crisis from getting worse.

Here is a clip that shows one small part of the storm’s destruction. All along the coast, the story is the same.

 

Birds, Winter

After the Storm

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In central Maine, we came through Tuesday’s storm just fine and were spared the worst. We didn’t lose our power, for which we were very grateful.

I did make some oatmeal squares ahead of time, just in case we needed to console ourselves in the flickering light of an oil lamp.

As it turned out, we consoled ourselves in the nonflickering light of electric lamps.

But we did get some snow, and then some rain, which made a slushy mess Clif had to clean with his scoop. It was too wet and heavy for our electric snow thrower.

The birds, who had sheltered in the woods behind our house during the storm, were out in full force on Wednesday morning. It’s hungry work staying warm during such bad weather. Most, if not all, are finches.

The Maine coast, however, wasn’t as lucky as inland. There were massive surges and flooding where roads and even some homes and businesses were destroyed. Here is a clip from News Center Maine that shows some of the damage from Tuesday’s storm.

It’s been one heck of a winter, and it’s just barely started.

 

 

Birds, News, Winter

Oh, for Pete’s Sake

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As I mentioned in my previous  piece, I had planned to start posting on Wednesdays rather than Mondays in 2024. But guess what? Another nasty storm is forecasted to blow into Maine on Tuesday night and into Wednesday.  Along with a storm watch that will bring wet, heavy snow, we have received a flood warning and a high wind watch, with expected power outages. To borrow from the excellent crime show Fargo: Oh, for Pete’s sake. (Fargo is set in Minnesota and North Dakota.)

So instead of posting on Wednesday, I am posting today.

Tomorrow, I’ll be making a big batch of black bean soup, which we can heat up on the camp stove should the power go out. Also, because treats are important during a power outage, I’ll be baking oatmeal bars with chocolate chips.

What makes this storm so particularly galling is that on Sunday, we had the most perfect snow storm with six to eight inches of light fluffy snow. Clif and our daughter Dee were able to easily take care of the cleanup, and it was a pleasure to watch the falling snow while chickpea soup bubbled in the slow cooker.

Here is a picture from my dining room window taken during the storm. If you look carefully at the feeder, you might notice the falling snow along with a little bird feeding. I think the bird is a gold finch.

Here is another picture taken  from my dining room window this morning after the storm.

I must admit to feeling a little discouraged at the thought of having another power outage and all the work it entails.

But on a more cheerful note, I have received gifts from some of my lovely blogging friends.

Oranges and lemons from Betsy and picked in her own backyard.

Sweet Santas, again from Betsy, and a pretty quilting square from Judy of New England Garden and Thread.

Finally, a beautiful bookmark from Lavinia of Salmon Brook Farms.

With such thoughtful blogging friends, it’s impossible to stay down in the dumps for too long.

I’ll keep you posted about the storm.

Animals - especially dogs, Celebrate, cooking, News

Back Again in 2024

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As many of you know, in September my daughter Shannon, her husband Mike, their two dogs—Holly and Somara—and their cat Penny moved in with us. One phase of their life had ended, and they were starting a new phase with different jobs. Staying with us allowed them to take their time to find a place that was exactly right for them as well as for the dogs and cat.

This Shannon and Mike did, with a lovely new apartment overlooking the water. In late December, dogs, kit, and kids left, leaving the three of us—Clif, our daughter Dee, and me. The house is now very quiet. While I miss the hubbub, it feels great to return to my old schedule, which not only includes blogging but also working on my upcoming book, Darcy Dansereau, a slice-of-life fantasy set in Maine in the 1970s.

Along with Christmas, December included a challenge courtesy of Mother Nature—a rain and wind storm with gusts up to 70 miles per hour. This storm whipped through central Maine with the expected results—widespread power outages in the days leading to Christmas. We were without power for four days, and it was even longer for some people in central Maine.

The storm also brought about an unexpected result—flooding for communities by a river. While flooding is common in the spring, it is pretty much unheard of in December. As I am fond of saying, in these times of climate change, weird is the new normal. These floods were as bad as I’ve ever seen them, but as we don’t live near a river, we stayed dry.

Because we have a wood furnace, we were warm and cozy during the power outage. In addition, we have a camp stove, and in town there is a business with an outside spigot where we could get water. So we were all right during our time without power.

During the power outage, we were still taking care of the dogs and cat while Mike and Shannon were getting settled in their new apartment. Here is the expression on Holly’s face as the storm blew and raged outside.

Because the light was low, the focus isn’t the best. Still, I think it captures her mood, which was pretty much the same as ours: none of us liked the storm one bit.

But through it all we did have a light to shine with an old lamp that belonged to Clif’s parents.

The Thursday before Christmas, early in the morning, the lights came on, and we all rejoiced.

The dogs and the cat settled back into their comfortable routines.

My brother, sister-in-law, and nephew came over to celebrate Christmas Eve with us, and what a jolly time we had. Unfortunately, no pictures were taken of the event.

I did, however, take pictures of Christmas morning, and our first ever Crustmas feast. The idea for Crustmas came from a delightful podcast called Strong Sense of Place: The Library of Lost Time. The hosts, Dave and Mel, explained how they celebrate the holiday with Crustmas, which revolves around their love of toast. (I, too, love toast, and as soon as I heard their idea, I was all in.) They buy a number of nice loaves of bread and provide a bunch of yummy toppings: Nutella, jam, cream cheese, butter. They also have a charcuterie board, which we did not do this year but might next year. However, the genius idea is to bring the toaster right to the table so that there is no running back and forth to the kitchen to make toast. At the table, out pops the toast, hot and fresh for eager eaters.

Here is the table on Christmas morning all set up for Crustmas.

Crustmas was a smashing success, and we will do this again next Christmas. However, as Dave and Mel reminded listeners, there is no need to confine Crustmas to Christmas. The glories of toast can be celebrated all through the year, and that’s exactly what we plan to do.

A very happy New Year to all my wonderful blogging friends. I will be posting once a week, on Wednesday, unless something special comes up that deserves my attention.

Until next Wednesday.