Because I’ve been on vacation for the past two weeks and haven’t posted much, I thought I would also post these pictures of our yard, our road, and the Narrows. In between storms and weather so frigid my nostrils stuck together when I took a deep breath, we did have a day or so of glorious, bright winter weather, when it wasn’t too cold to enjoy being outside. The dog and I went for a walk on one of those days, and here are some pictures I took.

My-oh-my, the weather has been frightful these past two weeks, which have encompassed Christmas, New Years, and vacation for Clif and me. There have been snow storms; an ice storm that knocked out our power for three days, including Christmas Day; and weather so cold that our dog, who loves snow, only stayed out in the backyard long enough to do his business. And now a driving rain, most unwelcome in January, with the threat of more frigid weather to follow. Something tells me that Clif and I will not be leaving home without our grippers on our shoes.

Despite the bad weather, our holidays were merry, even though there was a fair amount of improvising with food. Instead of our usual cheddar cheese soup on Christmas Eve, we had a soup I had frozen—ginger-carrot soup—along with chickpea patties—also frozen and thawed thanks to the power outtage. Scratch the stuffed shells for Christmas Day. Instead, it was appetizers—bread, crackers, veggies, various cheeses, spreads, and cold cuts. Not my idea of a great Christmas meal, but Shannon, who loves appetizer meals, was delighted.

Somehow, though, everything worked out. Because of the ice-storm brouhaha, my brother and his family couldn’t come over on Christmas Day. They could, however, come over on Friday, and since our power was back on, I could make stuffed shells for them along with a homemade chocolate ice-cream pie.

And the cheddar cheese soup? A New Year’s Eve meal with Shannon, Mike, Dee, and our friends Joel and Alice. So we had the holiday food we love, only pushed later during the week.

I must admit that by the time the holidays were over, I was just plain tuckered out. But Clif and I still had several more vacation days, and in between cleaning the roof and the driveway, we ate more than we should have, we read, we rested, and we watched movies, both at home and at the cinema. (There have been some very good movies this year.)

Now vacation is over, and it’s time to get back on track—with work, with exercise, with eating, and with the many projects that seem to fill our lives. Our current project involves making shelves for Shannon and Mike’s kitchen. Clif, handy guy that he is, will do most of the work. I’ll try not to get in the way too much. And there is also cleaning and decluttering, a never-ending task for me as I’m sure it is for most people.

Onward and upward into 2014. I’m hoping it is a year of family, friends, good food, biking, and creativity.

A fine, clear, cold day in the neighborhood. After I bundled up—heavy sweater, leggings under my pants, a hat, which I hate wearing—the dog and I headed to the Narrows. The sky was a deep blue, and a crow followed us, sometimes calling in a high pitched voice, sometimes clicking and clacking. The dog barked, and I smiled. Neither of us understands crow, and not for the first time, I wished I “could talk to the animals.”

Taking pictures at the Narrows, especially on a cold day, requires a bit of juggling. Off come the gloves, to go on the ground beside me. As there is hardly any shoulder by the Narrows, I must shorten the dog’s retractable leash—he does like to leap at cars—and grip it between my knees. Where is the sun? How is the picture framed? With freezing fingers and a dog to worry about, I hardly have time to ask myself these questions. Never mind. Today the light was so good and the Narrows so bright and beautiful that it almost didn’t matter. Any shot would come out well.

After I took pictures, we walked farther on before turning around, when the wind hit us squarely. My face stung, and my eyes watered. The wind parted the dog’s hair, and we pressed forward.

When I got home, time for a cup of tea. How good it tasted, and despite the cold, how good it felt to get out and go for a walk.

With such beauty around me and the time to enjoy it, I sometimes feel as though I must be one of the luckiest women in Winthrop.

Today I decided to take a walk by the stream in back of the house. Almost within sight of my backyard, the stream has been beckoning to me as it winds through the dark woods on its way to the Narrows Pond. It has been a long time since I walked along the stream. Today, the snow was not deep in the woods. Today, it was not too cold. So after I made raspberry squares for the library meeting tonight, I found my winter boots and my camera, gathered the dog, and headed out back.

In my imaginings, the dog and I would walk quite a while by the stream. Maybe not down to the Narrows, but at least far enough to leave our house and yard behind. Alas, reality and imaginings don’t always coincide. I hadn’t counted on the snow-covered leaves being so slippery. I hadn’t remembered the banks of the stream being so steep. As I inched my way along, with the dog trotting lightly ahead of me, I looked for a stick to help steady myself. I found one, and as I crossed a hilly ledge that went from one side of the stream to the other, I idly reflected on how much it would cramp Christmas if I fell and broke either an arm or a leg.

This vision of handicap trumped the vision of walking by the stream, and I decided it was time to turn around. Before I did, I stopped for a bit, listening to the sound of water rushing under a skim of ice. Not far from where I stood, I saw animal tracks—deer and squirrels and who knows what else. Beyond the animal tracks was a great tree that had fallen, reminding me of the bleached skeleton of a whale.

Slowly, slowly, I made my way back to the house, where I found a package—a Daedalus order—waiting for me. I hadn’t gone very far, but I had heard the stream and had felt the presence of the forest.  I was chilly enough for a cup of tea and ready for a sample of the raspberry bars.

The dog was ready, too, and after sharing a bar with me, he took a nap in his spot by my desk while I wrote this piece.

Next time the dog and I walk in the woods, we will stick to the trails. My knees are simply too stiff to deal with slippery banks. Still, it was a fine thing to stand by the stream and listen to the water and to feel the forest all around me.

Yesterday, Clif and I woke up to find 6 inches of snow in the yard and in the driveway. Clif took out Little Green for the first snow throwing of the season while I shoveled the backyard pathways to the wood pile, the bird feeders, and the compost bins. Liam barked and leaped at the snow as I shoveled, and it made me laugh to watch him.

I am a summer person, but when I get used to the cold, I actually do enjoy winter, that still time of muted colors when the birds crowd the feeder. Tufted titmice, nuthatches, finches, woodpeckers, and last, but certainly not least, the chickadees, my favorites, all come to the backyard feeders. Indeed, we have so many chickadees here that once upon a time I referred to our home as Chickadee Place. As my friend Barbara once observed, chickadees may be plentiful, but they are not common. No, they aren’t, and chickadees are always a welcome sight at the feeder.

White beans are simmering on the stove, and soon I’ll be making a white bean soup in my Crock-Pot. I’ll use fresh sage and thyme that have weathered the cold. I’m thinking of adding the last of the gravy and a bit of leftover chicken stock, so it will be more like a stew than a soup. Celery, onion, garlic, carrots, and mushrooms. Perhaps a sweet yellow pepper. A hearty meal for a cold night. Add homemade bran muffins, and we’ll have a pretty good meal, as Clif might say.

Today will also be a day to take stock of Christmas presents, to assess what I already have and to decide what else I might need. I’ll be placing a Daedalus order, something I always enjoy doing. Good books at reasonable prices. What’s not to like?

As I’ve often noted, we are a family with a modest budget, and, accordingly, our presents are modest. But modest or not, we enjoy giving and receiving them. We plan ahead, we make some of the presents we give, and despite the hecticness of the season, we do our best to make things merry.

No bah humbugs at Chickadee Place.

The week before Thanksgiving was spent cooking and cleaning, and by the time the big day came, I was prepared. The turkey was thawing in the refrigerator. The gravy was also thawing in the refrigerator. The green bean casserole had been made. Ditto for the yeast rolls. The house was dusted, scrubbed, and vacuumed. All that could be done ahead of time had been done.

Then came the call from Shannon on Thanksgiving Day. Her dog, Holly, was sick. Very sick. Perhaps it was a flu, perhaps Holly had eaten something she shouldn’t. Whatever the case, Holly was too sick to bring and too sick to leave alone for that length of time. Therefore, Mike and Shannon wouldn’t be coming over for dinner.

Because Dee was with Shannon in South Portland, this meant that Clif had to pick her up in Topsham—halfway for both Shannon and Clif. (Mike stayed home with the dog while Shannon brought Dee to Topsham.) While I had done all that I could ahead of time, there were still many last minute things to do, and I was counting on Clif to help me. But there was no way around it. Clif had to fetch Dee, and I had to finish the last of the getting ready by myself.

Nevertheless, all seemed to be going well. Clif picked up Dee. Our friends arrived and settled in the living room with wine, nuts, cheese, and crackers. Then chaos descended as the turkey came out of the oven, and various dishes went from the microwave, where they were heated, to the oven, where they would stay warm. As Dee mashed the potatoes—mounds and mounds of them—bits of potato flew onto the counter and onto her sweater. I juggled dishes from the microwave to the stove and finally to the sideboard in the dining room. Was the candle lit? Yes. Did everyone have water? They did. And more wine as well. Olives, pickles, squash bread? Check, check, check.

We gathered together around the table, and I actually sighed gratefully. Everything tasted good. The food was even vaguely warm.

But later that night, after everyone had left, Clif said, “I didn’t have any stuffing.”

“Oh?” I replied. “Well, maybe your plate was too full and you didn’t have any room.”

“Maybe.”

Then I started thinking about my own plate. Had I eaten any stuffing? I couldn’t remember that I had.

We are a family that loves stuffing, and I had actually made extra, in a casserole dish, as there is never enough in the turkey.

I had a sneaking suspicion about that stuffing, and when I checked, my suspicions were confirmed. Both stuffings, two huge dishes full, were still in the oven, pushed to the back. They had never made it to the sideboard.

And here’s the funny thing. At dinner, our friend Jill had commented on how during a big hectic meal, dishes sometimes were forgotten in the oven. Did Jill miss the stuffing? She didn’t mention it, and I think she would have done so had she noticed its absence. Nevertheless, it was a funny coincidence, especially since it was the first time I had forgotten anything in the oven.

Ah, well. We feasted, we talked, and thanks to the dishwasher, clean up was pretty easy.

And along with all the other leftovers, we had lots of stuffing. Plenty to bring to Shannon when we visited on Saturday, where an almost fully-recovered Holly was happy to see us.

Now, onward to Christmas!