Yesterday, we had our first real snowfall, three inches of light, fluffy snow. So easy to clean that Clif didn’t even need to use Little Green, our trusty snow thrower. A shovel did the trick.
Everything is pretty and fresh after a snowfall. Here are some pictures from the front yard.
Here is one of our backyard by the woods.
And last night when I heard the snow plow go by, it was the real thing, not a phantom sound the way it had been a month earlier.
Winter is here.
Yesterday was a big, big day for Clif, Dee, and me. After two years of not seeing our youngest daughter Shannon and our son-in-law Mike, we got together with them at their new apartment in Massachusetts. Previously, they lived in North Carolina, a very long way from Maine. But in November, they moved to Massachusetts, only two and a half hours from our home. We are overjoyed that they are back in New England, where we can have regular visits with them.
Because Covid is still raging in the U.S., we decided we should take extra precautions. Masks for inside, but what to do about lunch? Mike and Shannon came up with a solution—a propane heater for their small sheltered patio. (Who is that strange masked woman in the corner?)
The propane heater was an experiment, with none of us too sure exactly how it would work on a chilly forty-degree day. Readers, I am pleased to report that the heater worked beautifully. All of us, even those who like it hot, felt comfortable for the few hours we stayed outside. When Clif went to the car for something, he said he could feel the difference as soon as he left the patio.
“This is just like a little café,” Dee noted, adding that these propane heaters are common in outside eating areas in New York City.
The café’s bean soup tasted especially good on a chilly day.
Another treat was seeing Shannon and Mike’s two dogs, Holly and Somara. Although it’s been years since we’ve seen them, they remembered us and gave us enthusiastic greetings.
Here is Miss Holly.
And here is Miss Somara.
A final bonus was seeing this tree next to Mike and Shannon’s apartment. I had never seen a tree like this before, and I was fascinated by the peeling bark and the color. I did a little Internet research, and I think it’s a paperbark maple, originally a native of China. If anyone knows differently, please let me know.
Although we have Zoomed with Shannon and Mike many times over the past two years, there is nothing like chatting in person. What a grand time we had talking about books, movies, television shows, and various other things.
Late afternoon, we left reluctantly. But with Shannon and Mike so close to Maine, we will soon be seeing them again. And as long as the weather isn’t too cold, we can eat outside at Shannon and Mike’s café, with the propane heater providing plenty of warmth.
On Saturday, we had our first dusting of snow, enough white to see but not really enough to count as a first storm. Still, the sky was a severe gray, and the air had a certain chill to it that let a person know winter was not far away. Even at my age that nip brings an expectation verging on exhilaration—winter is coming, a hushed time of brilliant and blue days mixed with stormy weather.
To take some pictures, I hobbled out to the slippery porch. To say I was mindful of where I put my feet doesn’t begin to describe how I moved.
Here are the pictures I took from both inside and outside.
This one is from the aforementioned slippery front porch.
Still on the porch, looking downward at the red bow on a wreath.
Then from an open window in the living room—snowy leaves on the hedge,
and a frosty birdbath.
Finally from an open window in the bathroom, a picture of the backyard and patio.
If the weather isn’t too cold, we’re hoping to have some more time on the patio with a fire in the firepit. We shall see.
My knee continues to improve but ever so slowly. I still limp from room to room and often use a cane. But, I can bend the knee now, and I don’t spend quite as much time on the couch. I haven’t returned to working on Book Four in my Great Library Series. I plan to do so this week. Again, we shall see.
With Dee’s and Clif’s help, Christmas decorating has begun, making the house look bright and festive. And, most important, now that Thanksgiving is over, we have begun watching Christmas specials. Not surprisingly, the ones that have fantasy and folderol are my favorites, and last night we watched Robin, Robin, a sweet, short stop-motion film from Aardman Animations (Chicken Run, Wallace & Gromit). Next on the list: A Boy Called Christmas.
I have some cooking planned—a tofu chocolate cream pie, a vegan tourtière pie—wait, what?—and other goodies. Regardless of whether I fail or succeed, I will be reporting on how they turned out.
The lights, the decorating, the cooking, and the holiday shows all combine to make dark December, right around the corner, a cozy month. Like winter, much anticipated.
Several days ago, when I went shopping with my daughter Dee, I fell flat on my face outside of Kohl’s. I mean this quite literally. One minute I was upright, and the next minute I had pavement pressing against my forehead and mouth. The fault was mine; I wasn’t paying attention. When I came to the curb, I walked along as though it weren’t there. But it was there, and down I fell.
A woman came rushing over. “Are you all right?”
Was I all right? As Dee helped me to my feet, I tasted blood, but miraculously no teeth seemed to be broken. I felt my nose. That, too, was fine. As far as I could tell, nothing was broken.
“I think I’m all right,” I said. “Thank you.”
“That darned curb!” the woman said, making me feel a little less stupid.
Yeah, that darned curb! Why the heck is it there, right in front of the entry way? What purpose does it serve? In the end, of course, I should have noticed the curb and stepped over it, but I appreciated the woman’s kind words.
Dee and I went shopping in Kohl’s. I was in a bit of a daze, but I followed her around, giving her advice for Christmas presents.
Afterward, we went grocery shopping, a grim event as my right knee was really starting to ache. By the time I came home, I could hardly walk. It seems I had sprained my knee.
Ever since, I have been one with the living room couch, where I can sit with my legs outstretched. I do have a cane, which has been a big help, and every day my knee continues to improve. Today I even feel well enough to sit at my desk and write this post of my woes. (Never fear. If my knee hadn’t improved, I would have gone to the hospital for X-rays.)
In the United States, we celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow, and it is a time for feeling grateful. You can bet I am feeling grateful that when I fell on the pavement, I didn’t break anything. It still amazes me that all my teeth are in my mouth and that my nose wasn’t broken. And I feel nothing but gratitude for having such a sturdy body.
You can also bet the next time I go anywhere, I will be on the lookout for curbs.
As we wend our way through fall, Clif and I have been getting ready for winter. On Monday, we got our first pallet of wood blocks for our furnace.
Time was when we ordered five or six cords of wood, stacked it outside in rows so that it would dry, and then hauled it down cellar. This provided lots of warmth through exercise, but we are getting older and have decided to give ourselves a little break. We get these blocks from a local store, and they are made entirely from sawdust waste. One pallet is equal to about a cord of wood, and we can order the blocks as we need them.
Clif has rigged up a cart that, in about an hour and a half, allows him to haul the blocks and stack them down cellar. About the only bad thing about these bricks—which burn hot and dry, leaving little creosote behind—is that they are, alas, wrapped in plastic.
Here is a fun Maine saying for those of you who “are from away.” When someone does something considered a little odd or off, we often say, “Well, that one is a few logs short of a cord.”
Which just goes to show that heating and cold weather are never far from our thoughts. When you live this far north, winter is always on the edge of your mind. Even during the balmy days of summer, we know that snow and icy winds are just around the corner.
The other night, as we were watching television, I heard the phantom sound of the town’s snowplow as it roared down the road. There were, of course, no lights flashing against the blinds in the living room as the plow went by. There was no plow.
But some sound jogged my memory, reminding me that winter is near.
In a recent post, I featured this picture of glowing November leaves.
In the comments section, my blogging friend Susan Rushton noted “[t]he sunlight through the trees illustrates the Japanese word Komorebi I was reading about earlier in the week.”
Although I have long admired the Japanese for their ability to use a single word to express a concept, I had never heard of komorebi before. I decided to do a little research.
From the Chicago Botanic Garden I learned “[t]he dapples of light and leaf are caused by the pinhole effect—the same concept that allows a pinhole camera to work. Light passes through a small hole—or in this case, the gap between leaves—and projects an inverted image on the other side. This effect is especially notable at dawn or just before dusk, when one can observe a cascade of shimmering amber light. While the sight is familiar and nostalgic, there is no English word for this phenomenon. There is, however, a Japanese word: komorebi.
“There are three important parts to this word: 木 (ko) meaning tree, 漏れ (more) meaning to escape from, and 日 (bi) meaning sun. Together, the characters mean something like ‘sunlight filtering through trees.'”
Inspired by komorebi and the Japanese, I went out in search of more amber light filtering through the leaves of trees. I was not disappointed.
By the edge of my deck, I came across this astilbe. Even though the astilbe is not a tree, it seems to me that the sunlight glowing through the plant’s leaves captures the beautiful quality of komorebi.
Thank you, Susan, for introducing me to komorebi, a concept that I both knew and didn’t know, which has come to me each fall as the leaves change to russet and yellow and the sun slants sideways not far above the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape.
In Maine, we have had a beautiful fall this year. Lots of sunny days with just enough rain mixed in. As it has been for the past several falls, the weather was warmer than average, which allowed us more days on the patio, right through to the middle of October. I know. The warmer weather is not a good sign, but as a Mainer, I can’t help but appreciate the extension of summer into September and September’s weather into October.
Back in the day, the first frost in Maine came sometime the middle of October, but this year it came the first week of November. The frost nipped the basil and the begonias.
It was hard enough to freeze the water in the bird bath.
And it definitely put an end to the tomato plants.
Time for some clean-up. Following the advice of Jason from the blog Garden in a City, I no longer cut back perennials in the fall. Instead, I do everything in the spring. According to Jason, over the winter uncut perennials provide a home for many beneficial insects.
As it turns out, waiting until spring is a much better fit for my schedule. In the fall, I am either finishing a book or publishing a book, and I can barely focus on anything else.
I know some gardeners are concerned that waiting until spring will make the clean-up harder. I have not found this to be the case. Because I live by the woods, there is always a lot of clearing to do in the spring, and the remains of the previous season’s perennials are easy to scoop up with the bed of leaves that inevitable fall and blow into my gardens.
But I do remove the wilted annuals—herbs, flowers, and vegetables. I also rake the last of the fallen leaves from the patio and bring in most of the garden ornaments, including that bird bath, which is now tucked safely down cellar.
The big patio table has also been brought down cellar, but we have left the chairs and firepit set up in hopes of having a few more fires before there is too much snow.
And, we are still sliding in weekend treats of grilled bread, which we now eat at the dining room table. But those days will soon be coming to an end.
This is a bittersweet time of year as we say farewell to the delights of early fall and move into the colder, shorter but still beautiful days of November.
my
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Above, I mentioned how busy I am in the fall, and this year is no different. I am working hard to finish Book Four in my Great Library Series, and I hope to be done by Christmas. At 50,000 words with 40,000 or so to go, I’m not sure if I’m going to finish by then, but that is my goal.
To make things a little easier, I will temporarily be discontinuing the “Nifty Posts from Lovely Blogs” section that I have often been featuring on Mondays. Also, I won’t be able to participate in any challenges. I plan to continue with both after the book is done, sometime in the new year.
But never fear, I will still be reading your lovely blogs until I take my Christmas break.
Onward, ho!
Notes From the Hinterland 