Yesterday’s post certainly qualified as a bummer post, a gloomy look at potential political decisions and the effects they would have on towns and individuals. Therefore, I thought I would balance today’s post with something more uplifting—a library update. It also seemed like a good way to end the week.
The library expansion is coming along beautifully, and the shell clearly shows just how much the library will be gaining in space. The addition fits right in with the older historic building, and even the siding is a wonderful match. For this we have Phil Locashio to thank, an architect par excellence.
When this is done, the library will truly be a gem in the center of town. Lucky Winthrop!
I wish I could say that I am greeting all aspects of the new year with eager anticipation, but I am not. The political situation, both in Maine and nationally, makes it impossible for me to feel anything but dread.
On the home front, Governor LePage has baldly stated that he intends to do what he can to abolish Maine’s income tax. On the face of it, this idea sounds great. Who doesn’t want to pay less in taxes? But if LePage even has moderate success with gutting the tax system, this means that towns will get less in revenue sharing, or “welfare for towns” as our governor bluntly puts it.
Well, Lepage’s concept of welfare for towns is a major source of income for many communities, including the one I live in. The money goes for schools; the library; garbage disposal—a huge expense; road maintenance; and other essential services. The money is not used frivolously. If revenue sharing is severely reduced, then two things can happen—property taxes will go up or services will be cut. In all likelihood, it will be a combination of the two. (According to the Portland Press Herald, “Property taxes represented 4.9 percent of personal income in 2014, compared to 2.6 percent for income taxes.”)
Winthrop is a pretty bare-bones town. There aren’t a lot of extras here. Over the past few years, as revenue sharing has declined, cuts have been made, but to have a functioning, healthy town, there are limits to what can be eliminated. I can’t help but worry what will happen to Winthrop if revenue sharing is drastically cut yet again.
Nationally, the Supreme Court will be deciding whether it is legal for individuals to receive federal health-care subsidies if their states do not have a state-run exchange. As CNN put it in a recent article, “The legal argument involves a provision in the health care law that says people who obtained coverage through state-run exchanges can get federal subsidies such as tax credits. But the law does not specifically say that those signing up on the separate federal exchange also are eligible.” It seems to Clif and me that the language was intended to make it clear that while the subsides are always available from the federal exchange, this federal benefit is still available if a person purchased his or her coverage from a state exchange. But no one can guess what the Supreme Court will decide.
The Supreme Court’s decision will directly affect Clif and me. He is planning on retiring soon, and we will need affordable health care. Clif could wait until he is sixty-five to retire, when he will qualify for Medicare. This is only a year and a half, and it wouldn’t be a big deal for him. However, I am only fifty-seven, and I won’t qualify for Medicare for another eight years. Because I am a homemaker, my insurance coverage comes from Clif’s policy at work.
Does Maine have a state-run exchange? Of course it doesn’t. It smacks of “welfare,” and LePage turned it down. If the Supreme Court rules against the subsidies, this means that health care will no longer be affordable for millions of people who live on a modest budget. People like me and Clif. When Clif was consulting, we bought our own health insurance, and we know first hand how unaffordable health care can be. Ten years ago, we paid almost $600 a month and that included a very high deductible. I can only imagine what it would be now, especially since I’ve had breast cancer.
Clif cannot work until he is seventy-two. Somehow we will scrape by if the Supreme Court rules against the subsidies. We will buy insurance for me. But if this is the case, then there sure won’t be anything golden about Clif’s retirement, and our already basic lives will be even more basic. No movies, no eating out, no anything extra.
The Obamacare scoffers might approve. Why should Clif and I have affordable health care that is subsidized by the government? First, I would like to remind the scoffers that in this country, all health care is subsidized by someone—businesses, private charity, hospitals, insurance companies, and, yes, the government. Good health care is neither free nor cheap, and unless we want to be a country that only provides health care to the affluent, then we have to wise up and accept the fact that the money must come from somewhere. And the larger the pool, the easier the burden.
I also want the scoffers to consider the practical effects of denying affordable health care to millions of people. Think of how this will trickle down to the rest of the economy, to the local businesses who depend on seniors and other folks who have a little extra to spend on nonessential items.
Town budgets slashed. Essential services cut. Affordable health care threatened. What a rosy future! Is it any wonder I feel a sense of dread?
Today, the temperature made it all the way to twenty degrees, and it was time for a walk in the woods. Somehow, I especially enjoy taking pictures of small things, and I came across this lichen,
this pine cone that looks a little like a sea creature,
and deer tracks.
Lately, there have been strong, cold winds, and the woods was littered with twigs, branches, and other things that had fallen from the trees. Somehow, though, tree litter doesn’t look as bad as human litter.
We made our way to the water’s edge, where I had to stop Liam from going down the bank. It’s only been very cold for a short time, and I didn’t want my dog buddy taking an expected dip in the Upper Narrows.
After looking at the water for a while, we went back up the hill that was stamped with snow shoe tracks, dog prints, deer prints, and, of course, my own boot prints. By the time we got home, my face was cold, and I was ready for a cup of tea, but it certainly felt good to be outside in the winter woods.
Last night before going to bed, I went onto the front porch to look at the Wolf Moon, the full moon of January. The porch snapped and creaked with cold as I stepped onto it, and the front yard was aglow with moonlight. The Wolf Moon, soft yet bright and luminous, hung high in the sky, away from the trees, and I could see it clearly. Away from the moon, stars glittered in the night sky, and how beautiful it all was.
Cold weather has settled over Maine, and last night the temperature outside dropped to zero degrees. Much to the joy of those who like ice fishing, the lakes have begun freezing. When I go out for a walk in the woods with the dog, I wear leggings under my jeans. I am not one who likes to bundle up, but I wear a neck warmer as well as a hat. What else to do in such cold weather?
This morning, the house was below 60 degrees—our wood furnace has a difficult time keeping the house warm when the temperature reaches zero. Getting out of bed was not easy, and I slept with the covers up to my nose. When I raised the shades, I saw on the windows gardens of crystals, delicate yet hard.
Native Americans named January’s full moon the Wolf Moon. I have read that they also called it the Hunger Moon, and it’s not hard to imagine how this full moon got its names. In the north, January is one of the coldest months of the year. The time of all things good and growing is long gone, and I expect that for many who lived off the land, it was indeed a time when wolves howled at the moon, a time of hunger.
Not so for those of us who live at the little house in the big woods. Clif and I have—ahem—put on some Christmas weight as the result of a little too much ho-ho-ho. Now it is time to shed those pounds and, we hope, a few more as well. Time to cut back on the sweets. Time to eat more fruit and vegetables. And, perhaps, just as important, time to get back on the exercise bike. For Christmas, Clif bought me a new seat for the exercise bike, and it is comfortable, far better than the old one.
As I bike, I will read Pedaling the Ends of the Earth by David Duncan. The blurb on the book reads “Four young men come of age in a great bicycling adventure stretching from Spain to Japan.” Duncan wrote the book when he was young—he had just graduated from college when he and his friends went on their trek in the early 1980s—and even in his twenties, Duncan was a good writer. (Duncan has written many other books, and here is a list on Amazon.)
As I ride my bike to nowhere, I will travel vicariously with Duncan and his friends. Occasionally, I’ll think of my own central Maine bike rides, which will begin in the spring. I won’t go far, but that doesn’t make the rides any less enjoyable.
The holidays are over, and as Shannon has aptly noted, it is both a let-down and a relief. At the little house in the big woods, there was a flurry of cooking and family and friends and dogs and movies. The fever-pitch activity reached its peak on New Year’s Eve, when we didn’t go to bed until 2:30 a.m. because of all the cleaning up that had to be done. (I simply cannot go to bed if the kitchen is a mess.)
This New Year’s Eve for dinner, I made cheddar cheese soup for family and friends. It was good, it was rich, and it was mostly gone by the end of the night. However, next year I am thinking of just having snacks and drinks so that when guests leave around 1:00 a.m. or so, clean-up will be a snap. I might even use paper plates, something I hardly ever do. The one consolation is the paper wouldn’t go to waste—the plates could be used to start fires in the wood furnace.
Now that all the hubbub has settled down, it is time to for Clif and me to return to our daily routines, and I am not sorry to get back to our quiet schedules. Clif works at home on Mondays, and I can hear the click of his keyboard in the next room. I have begun thinking of what I want to accomplish over the winter months—with my writing, with my constant project of decluttering, with indoor projects, with photography, with reading.
Even in the cold, dark of winter, there is much to do.
There are two days until Christmas. It’s snowing, and all the ugly hard snow has been softly covered. The evergreen branches are frosted, and the view from my office window looks like a winter wonderland. Unfortunately, rain is predicted later in the day, and the beauty might be short lived.
Whatever the weather, there is much to do today and tomorrow. The list includes making thumb print cookies, pie knots, spicy pumpkin soup, and stuffed shells. There is vacuuming to be done—a regular chore for a home that has one dog and two cats—as well as other cleaning. Fortunately, Clif is taking the day off tomorrow, which means I’ll have some help.
Dee will be coming from New York and will stay in Maine until the New Year. Therefore, I’ll be taking a break from this blog for a week or so. But to get readers in the holiday spirit, I’ve included some winter pictures in this post.
Merry Christmas to all and a very happy New Year.
Into the woodsIn a bit deeperLittle tracks in the snow
Yesterday, Shannon and I went to Boston to reunite with Saranya, whom we haven’t seen for seventeen years. (In previous posts, I have written about Saranya—an AFS student—and how she stayed with us for a year when she was a teenager.) We had such a wonderful day in Boston that I hardly know how to describe it.
First, there was the bus ride, which doesn’t sound like much of a thrill, but it was a treat to be with Shannon for the trip—two hours from Portland and then back again—and to chit-chat about this and that. We see each other often, but usually there is a flurry of food, husbands, dogs, and friends involved. We seldom have two peaceful hours—four actually—to just talk.
At South Station, we met Saranya, her sister Eve, and Eve’s friend Anan, and although Saranya was the only one Shannon and I knew, we all came together as naturally as if we had known each other for years and were in the habit of getting together. After hugging and greeting each other, we walked from South Station to Union Oyster House, less than a mile away.
Saranya wanted boiled lobster—from Maine, of course—and that was one of the reasons why we chose the Union Oyster House. Saranya insisted that Eve and Anan have lobster, too, and the dinners were a big hit. The service at Union Oyster House was what you might call leisurely, but that suited us just fine. Basically, all we wanted was to be together and to talk.
And talk we did, as we walked the streets of Boston. The skies were gray, and a fine sprinkle of snow fell on us. We wandered around Faneuil Hall Marketplace, admiring the big Christmas tree and all the lights on the other trees. We had drinks and dessert at a Starbucks—alas, we couldn’t find a local shop that was open—then it was back to Faneuil Hall just in time for an outside light and music show.
To the thundering strains of Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus, the lights on the trees flashed and alternated colors. It was completely over-the-top and utterly enjoyable.
All too soon, it seemed, it was time to return to South Station, where Saranya, Eve, and Anan would take the train back to New York City, and Shannon and I would take the bus back to Maine. Before we parted, Saranya told us how much her time in Maine as an exchange student had affected her. It not only broadened her outlook, but it also made her more independent. I suspect this is true for most exchange students. After all, to live in another culture for any length of time is bound to stretch and change a person, especially one who is on the cusp of becoming an adult. We saw a similar change with our daughter Dee when she spent time in France.
Still it was lovely to hear Saranya mention this and to know we played a major role in her life. Actually, it was a great feeling. All too often we just blunder through our days, not thinking of the ways we affect people.
“Seventeen years is too long,” Saranya said before she left. “Could I come and stay at your house sometime?”
“Of course, of course!” came the immediate reply. “You are always welcome, along with your husband or your sister or anyone else you want to travel with.”
“When is the best time to come?”
I told her to come in August or September, when the weather is fine, and we could spend a lot of time on the patio. Clif could grill chicken and bread, and I could make homemade ice cream. Or maybe we’d have a fire in the fire pit and make s’mores. As dusk settled over the backyard, we could listen to the crickets sing, and then as the sky became really dark, we could look at the stars. Late summer is one of Maine’s most beautiful times.
So come to Maine in August or September, Saranya, and don’t wait seventeen years.
Upside down pumpkin bread with parchment paper on the bottom
The title of this post indicates a perfect pre-Christmas trio—blue sky, pumpkin bread that didn’t stick to the pan, and a trip to Boston to see our Thai student Saranya, who is no longer a student but instead is a lovely woman. As I noted in yesterday’s post, I haven’t seen Saranya in seventeen years, and what a treat it will be to get together with her after such a long time.
All else dims compared with the excitement of seeing Saranya, but I have to admit it was a great feeling to make pumpkin bread that didn’t stick to the bottom of the pans. I lined the bottoms with parchment paper, and out came the bread with no trouble at all. The bread is in the freezer, where it will stay until the day before Christmas.
Then there is the blue sky. There are some clouds, but who cares? The sun is out, and it is not raining. My friend Margy is coming here for tea, and she will be walking from her home, about a mile from the little house in the big woods.
Later, I’ll be taking the dog for a walk in the woods. How nice it will be not to come back with wet hat and mittens.
Finally, this afternoon I plan to make a double batch of gingersnaps—Rochelle’s gingersnaps as they have come to be called around here. (In honor of my mom who made them all the time. I still use her handwritten recipe.) The cookies are good keepers, and I plan to give most of them away.
Another gray day, but instead of rain there is light snow. This meant that the dog and I took to the woods this morning. Good for him and good for me. We are both homebodies, but there is a limit to how much we like staying inside the house. In the woods, after all the rain, the water was running—not very seasonal for Maine in December, but lovely in its own way.
Yesterday was a very productive day. I made ice cream pie, yeast bread, and cooked two pumpkins. Today, I’ll make the pumpkin bread. Count down to Christmas.
During this busy season, I got some news that made it even more exciting. I found out that Saranya, who is from Thailand and who stayed with us during her senior year in high school, will be coming to New York for ten days. I haven’t seen Saranya for seventeen years, not since she left Maine to return to Thailand.
Shannon and I are hoping to meet her in Boston for lunch and a long, long chat. Ever since I heard the news, I’ve hardly been able to think of anything else.
A walk in the woods, pumpkin bread, and the possibility of seeing Saranya. My day will just hum along. Life can bring many surprises, and what a nice thing when the surprise is good.
More rain. Yes, yes, it could be a lot worse—freezing rain or mounds and mounds of snow. The snow, at least, would be prettier than this rain, which makes the December landscape look like March. Did we ever have such weather in the olden days, say, when I was a kid in Maine? No, we did not. Well, we humans have changed the climate, and now we must cope with what we have wrought.
On a more positive note…Today I will commence with Christmas cooking. My plan is to make one of the two ice cream pies that have become a tradition for dessert on Christmas day. The whole family agrees that homemade chocolate ice cream is good any time of year. Add a graham cracker pie shell and some hot fudge or caramel, and you have a pretty tasty dessert. But the best thing about this dessert is that it can be made ahead of time. One less thing to do Christmas week.
I’ll also bake two pumpkins so that I have purée for a spicy peanut soup I’ll be making for Christmas Eve and for pumpkin bread. This time around, I’ll be lining the bread pans with something—foil or parchment paper—so that the loaves won’t stick to the pan the way they did at Thanksgiving. The bread was still tasty, but it looked sorry and hunched over, as though it had traveled too many miles to get to the table.
But before I bake the pumpkins, I will make yeast bread, one loaf for immediate use and one loaf to tuck in the freezer. I hope to make another batch this weekend so that I have extra for French toast over the holidays. (Let’s just say that French toast is especially delicious when it’s made with homemade bread.)
Anyway, damn the rain and on with the cooking!
A blog about nature, home, books, movies, television, food, and rural life.
Yesterday’s post certainly qualified as a bummer post, a gloomy look at potential political decisions and the effects they would have on towns and individuals. Therefore, I thought I would balance today’s post with something more uplifting—a library update. It also seemed like a good way to end the week.
Notes From the Hinterland 