Category Archives: Nature

A Wall of Dirty Snow, a Flash of Red

March 5, 2015 Laurie Graves 4 Comments

When I look out my front window, this is what I see:

Across the road, a wall o’snow, mixed with dirt, sand, and gravel. Not exactly the most beautiful sight, that’s for sure, but oh so typical of early March in Maine.

Still, I’m not complaining. All right, maybe I’m complaining a little bit. Nevertheless, despite the ugliness of the landscape, there are things to be glad about. The zero degree weather has given way to twenty, thirty, and even forty degrees. Yesterday, it was so warm—comparatively speaking—that when I went out to play ball with Liam, I didn’t even need a hat. I was perfectly fine without one.

There is also a softening in the air, which I can actually smell. Very cold weather has a particular smell, as does warmer weather. I noticed this on Monday, the second day of March. I was in the backyard, and I just stood there, breathing in this softening. (Later, when there is mud, the backyard won’t smell quite as good.) In the afternoon when I did errands, I spoke to various people about this softening smell, and they didn’t look at me as though I were crazy. Instead, they nodded and said they had noticed it, too.

Even though we are still buried with snow at the little house in the big woods, and even though the snow has lost its glitter and fluff, a good change is coming. It doesn’t get dark now until 6:00 p.m., and on Sunday daylight savings time begins, which means the dark won’t come until 7:00 p.m. For me, early darkness feels oppressive, confining, and the longer days are a sweet relief. I don’t mind losing an hour to get extra light at the end of the day. Not at all.

As a contrast to the view out front, here is what I saw when I looked out back yesterday:

A flash of red, a male cardinal, an infrequent visitor as cardinals prefer a more open landscape. How wonderful it was to have him in my backyard. I just wish I had gotten a better shot of him with my little camera. For a good picture of him, I need a sunny day, and on clear days, I will be on the lookout for this little beauty.

So, in front—a wall of dirty snow. In back—a flash of red. Ugliness and beauty sit close to each other. I accept one and rejoice in the other.

Animals - especially dogs, Nature

Turkey Trot Trot Trot Or How I Escaped from Wild Turkeys

February 27, 2015 Laurie Graves 6 Comments

Yesterday, on our daily walk, the dog and I turned right rather than left at the end of the driveway, and we headed up the road away from the Narrows. While I never get tired of the beauty of the Narrows, I like to vary our walks. The dog likes it, too—different smells on different walks.

Partway up the long hill that gives me so much trouble on my bike, I looked down a lane that led away from the road, and I saw turkeys. Lots of them. I had my trusty little Cannon tucked in my pocket. Could I get a picture of them before they took fright and hurried away? I decided I would try.

Taking pictures while trying to manage a dog on a leash is always a challenge, especially in the winter when gloves are also an issue, but I have pretty much mastered the process. I throw the gloves on the ground, lock the leash so that it is very short, and put the leash cartridge between my knees.

I took several pictures of the flock, which just stood there and didn’t run at all. This should have given me a clue about their lack of fear, but instead, I thought, “Can I get a little closer for a better shot?”

The dog and I inched down the lane. I took a few pictures, and then the turkeys did indeed begin to move. But rather than hurry away from us, they came toward us. They moved with purpose and assurance and didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

“Oh, no!” I thought. “Those turkeys are going to take me down.” With my creaky knees, I knew there was no chance I could outrun them. Like a deer in the headlights, I watched in awful fascination as the turkeys came closer and closer. I could just see the headlines, “Winthrop Woman felled by turkeys.”

But then something rather wonderful happened. Man’s best friend—or in this case woman’s best friend—came to the rescue. Liam growled at the approaching birds. There was just one growl, but that’s all it took. The turkeys stopped, briskly turned around, and headed the other way.

“Good boy,” I said, patting Liam’s back. He gave me look that indicated it was nothing at all, that he was just doing his job. I put my camera back in my pocket, gathered my gloves, and unlocked the leash. Liam and I continued on our walk, unthreatened by fowl or beast.

Now, I’m exaggerating the turkey threat for comic effect. I expect I would have survived a turkey assault, even though it wouldn’t have been much fun. However, it really did feel like Liam saved the day with his one growl. It made me realize, yet again, how crucial dogs have been to humans over the centuries—for herding, for protection, for keeping other animals away from the farmstead. Even now, when most dogs—at least in the U.S.—are considered pets, they can still unexpectedly show us how important they are to our well being.

There is no doubt about it. Yesterday, Liam was dog of the day, and how good it felt to walk by his side.

Nature

Farewell to February, a Tough but Exquisite Month

February 26, 2015 Laurie Graves 5 Comments

I never thought I would write this, but I am actually looking forward to March. In Maine, March is a grim, dreary month that we all somehow get through, even though we often wonder how in the world we do. In March, at the beginning of the month, it still snows, but it’s usually wet and heavy and difficult to shovel. It is cold enough so that we must wear hats and gloves and boots. As the month progresses and the snow melts, it brings what every Mainer loves to hate—mud and lots of it.

But this year, February has been so hard—so snowy, cold, and confining—that March will seem like a relief. The days are getting longer—Daylight Saving Time begins on March 8—and I am hopeful that the temperature will rise to at least thirty degrees. Then, I’ll actually feel like going for walk, even if I still have to wear a hat, gloves, and boots.

A restlessness—commonly known as cabin fever—often comes with February, and it came to me in spades this year. I long to be outside, in my yard, in the woods, on my bike. Instead, I am in my house. Fortunately, I don’t have seasonal affective disorder, so I am not depressed. Just antsy. Getting together with friends helps a lot. So does tea and muffins and brunches, some of which had to be canceled because of the weather.

One thing I will say about February in Maine—it is a beautiful month. Yesterday the dog and I walked to the Narrows, where I took more pictures.

Farewell, February, you tough but exquisite month. As the warmer weather comes, I’ll push you to the back of my mind, but you will not be forgotten. Every year begins with you and your sister January, another severe month that keeps us on our toes, confines us, and reminds us that weather really does matter.

Nature

The Two Faces of the Narrows

February 19, 2015 Laurie Graves 4 Comments

I live about a quarter of a mile from the Upper and Lower Narrows Pond. I have lived here for thirty years, and I have never been able to figure out why they are called ponds. The catchment area is 8.5 square miles, and the water is 106 feet at its deepest.

It seems I am not the only one who thinks these bodies of water are too deep and too large to be considered ponds. There is a description of the Narrows Pond in Wikipedia, and it is so charmingly written that I can’t resist sharing the entire paragraph: “Narrows Pond is actually two small twin lakes in Winthrop, Maine. They are Upper and Lower Narrows Pond, and are divided by a very narrow isthmus, hence the name. The isthmus is traversed by Narrows Pond Road, and a culvert connects the two lakes. People in canoes or kayaks can travel between the two lakes, though only by ducking first.”

Most days, the dog and I walk to the Narrows, either by road or through the woods. Right now the snow is too deep in the woods, and as I don’t have snowshoes, I must stick to the road. In a way, I don’t mind because the prospect from the isthmus is so pleasing and photogenic that it’s hard to get a bad shot.

Yesterday, when Liam and I went to the Narrows, it was though I was looking at two entities with completely different personalities. The sky over the Upper Narrows was blue, which made everything bright and cheerful.

On the other hand, the sky over the Lower Narrows was gray, which gave it a frowning, moody look. The Upper and Lower Narrows reminded me of two siblings who are complete opposites, as siblings often are, yet each with a special beauty.

I know, I know. One should not anthropomorphize nature, but this seems to be a weakness of mine. While I respect science and facts, my mind tends toward flights of fancy. Fortunately, I do know the difference between fact and fancy and seldom, if ever, confuse them.

And as long as I am able to tell the two apart, I will not feel guilty about letting my mind take whatever fanciful flight it wants.

Home, Nature

Snow Sahara

February 3, 2015 Laurie Graves 2 Comments

It’s official. The snow is so deep in the backyard that the cellar windows are completely blocked, and when you look out, all you see is a white wall. As my daughter Shannon put it, we have gotten four feet of snow in one week. Surely that must be some kind of record for the most snow in the shortest amount of time. With all this snow, those who ski, snowshoe, or snowmobile must be pretty darned happy.

It has also been very cold, which makes the snow light and subject to drifting. Even in our yard, which is surrounded by trees and thus shielded from the wind, the snow has been sculpted into huge mounds. On this sunny day, the blue-shadowed snow surrounds the little house in the big woods, and it reminds me of a desert, with shifting snow rather than shifting sand.

The next four days, the weather is supposed to be fairly decent, with perhaps just a bit of snow—four inches or so—to remind us that winter still has a grip on us.

With all the clean-up we must do, I can’t call winter restful. There’s nothing relaxing about hours of shoveling day after day. Still, despite the hard work, I am dazzled by the beauty of this desert of snow I find myself in.

Soon I will go out to do more shoveling. Soon I will refill the bird feeders that have been mobbed by hungry birds—finches, titmice, chickadees, woodpeckers, and blue jays. The mourning doves, crows, and squirrels hunt for fallen seed in the snow. After I fill the feeders, I will be sure to scatter seed for them, too. Little tunnels indicate other rodents gather seed beneath the feeders.

These creatures somehow survive the cold weather. Fluffy feathers, thick fur, underground burrows all help. But I am grateful for my own snug home and my well-stocked pantry and freezer, filled with so many good things.

Soup will soon be on the menu. Warm, nourishing, economical, exactly the right kind of meal when you are surrounded by a snow desert.

Home, Nature

End of January Pictures

January 31, 2015 Laurie Graves 2 Comments

Finally, the snow stopped, the sky cleared, and the sun came out. Time to clean up the snow. Again. But also time to take some pictures of late January—of deep snow, ice, and small things.

Nature

More Snow: January Goes Out Like a Lion

January 30, 2015 Laurie Graves 2 Comments

Chickadee at the feeder and blue shadows in back

To borrow and flip a common description of March, January is certainly going out like a lion. It is snowing again, and the forecast indicates we will be getting another foot of snow. More shoveling, more canceled plans.

On the bright side…Clif and I will certainly be getting our exercise thanks to nature’s gym, as we jokingly call it. And, Liam, too, will get a work out. By nightfall, after so much shoveling, we’ll all be sacked out in the living room. And if the snow doesn’t stop by nightfall, tomorrow we’ll have to do it all over again.

We are positively hemmed in by the snow, and the woods are now closed to me. I could go on snowmobile trails, but it makes me nervous to do so. Those little machines go fast, and especially with the dog, I’m always afraid I’m not going to get out of the way in time in such deep snow. The trails are for the snowmobiles, so I don’t have much of a complaint, but I will miss going in the woods. Always something different to see and photograph.

Except for the paths I have shoveled, my own backyard is closed to me. Winter, with its deep snow, is a time of confinement. The landscape might loom large and white, but where you can go is narrowly proscribed unless you have skis, snowshoes, or a snowmobile. Unfortunately, with my creaky knees, my days of skiing and snowshoeing are over. While I don’t hate snowmobiles the way some green beans do, I have no desire to own one.

It’s a good thing, then, that January is so beautiful. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to stand it. On a snowy day, January is majestic and solemn. On a sunny day, with the blue shadows on the smooth snow, the landscape is so dazzling that I almost don’t mind being confined to my little paths. Almost. (The pictures in this post were taken yesterday, on one of those sunny days.)

Today, along with shoveling, will be a day to make bread. I’ll also do a bit of decluttering in the hopes we can get to the transfer station tomorrow.

In the meantime, the snow comes down, soft and steady.

Animals - especially dogs, Nature

Notes on a Blizzard

January 29, 2015 Laurie Graves 5 Comments

When the blizzard came to Maine on Tuesday, everything except the falling snow and the hungry birds seemed to come to a standstill. The schools, were closed, the state offices shut down, and even my dentist’s office wasn’t open.

“This is the first time ever our office has closed ahead of time,” Nancy, my dental hygienist, told me on Monday when I was having my teeth cleaned.

And a good thing, too, because the snow came down, down, down all day Tuesday and well into Wednesday morning, when the storm finally wore itself out. Midafternoon on Tuesday, Clif and I went out to clear the driveway, the walkways, and the various paths in the backyard. We knew we’d have to do it again on Wednesday, but with so much snow, we felt it was best to keep up with it. The dog came out to jump, bark, and supervise. At one point, Liam’s black face was covered with snow, and it made him look like a panda bear.

We spent two hours outside and cleaned about a foot of snow. When we came in, the paths, steps, and driveway were already filling back in. We shed our dripping clothes, made some popcorn, and settled on the couch to read. The dog settled beside us, begging for popcorn. Outside, a blue-grey dusk settled over the landscape, and it was a color I had never seen before. But gradually the black of night replaced the blue-gray of dusk, and it was time to pull down the shades.

There is something sharply defining about a blizzard—the preparations, the shoveling, and the clearing of snow. We know what our duties are, and we tend to them. As much as we humans are shaping the planet, nature is still a force be reckoned with, and blizzards put us in our place.

On Wednesday, after breakfast, Clif and I were back outside. Again, the driveway, steps, walkways, and paths had to be cleared. The car, a great mound of snow, had to be uncovered. At the end of the driveway, there was a wall of snow—four feet high—left by the plow. But hardest of all was the roof, which had to be scraped so that ice dams, which lead to leaks, wouldn’t build up. The snow in the front yard was so deep that I had to shovel a path for Clif so that he could scrape the roof with a long device of connected poles and a large plastic blade on the end. In turn, the scraping of the snow brought an avalanche of hard-packed snow onto the two porches. This snow, of course, had to be removed.

“I’ll do it,” I said to Clif, whose arms were tired. He had done enough.

Clif with the roof scraper and Liam at the ready to supervise

All told, we each spent six hours clearing snow after the storm, but by late Wednesday afternoon, the cleaning was done, and we both felt we had earned more popcorn. After our snack, Clif dozed on the couch, the dog slept in the chair by the window, and the orange cat lay on my lap, making it difficult for me to write in my notebook.

Another foot of snow is projected for Friday and Saturday. Clif and I will be ready, and so will Liam.

Nature

Storm Juno Strikes

January 28, 2015 Laurie Graves

The blizzard—named Juno—came and went. She left us with almost two feet of snow to clear from the driveway, our backyard paths, and the roof. However, she did not cause us to lose our power, and for that I am very, very grateful. The road plow added to the fun by leaving a four-foot wall of snow at the end of our driveway.

Clif and I have been busy clearing the snow, so there is not much time to write. But somehow I always find time to take pictures, and here are a few from Storm Juno. I’ll write more about the storm tomorrow.

The front steps after one shoveling during Storm Juno

Nature

A Storm is Coming

January 26, 2015 Laurie Graves 4 Comments

I don’t know if the projected blizzard coming up the East Coast is going to be a “Snowmaggedon,” but we are getting ready for it. I’ll be stopping at the store for bread and canned soup and cookies. The necessities. I have water in buckets down cellar, because if we do lose our power, then we will not have water. I’ll also put aside water in big stockpots.

Today is a busy day of library meetings, errands, and a dental appointment, and there is not much time to write. To get everyone in a wintery mood, here are some pictures I took yesterday of our walk in the woods.

For readers who live on the East Coast, in the path of the storm, stay warm and safe.

Notes From the Hinterland

Category Archives: Nature

A Wall of Dirty Snow, a Flash of Red

Turkey Trot Trot Trot Or How I Escaped from Wild Turkeys

Farewell to February, a Tough but Exquisite Month

The Two Faces of the Narrows

Snow Sahara

End of January Pictures

More Snow: January Goes Out Like a Lion

Notes on a Blizzard

Storm Juno Strikes

A Storm is Coming

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