Category Archives: Winter

Movies, Snow-Gauge Clif, Winter

Marchy March and Snow-Gauge Clif

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How things change from one week to another. Last week, it still looked and felt like winter—the air was cold, and the snow sparkled. But Spring has her eyes on us, and yesterday, the temperature shot up to 60°F.  Holy cats, it was so warm that I went outside without a jacket.

Now that we have entered this time purgatory in Maine, the snow is no longer lovely and sparkling. Instead, it’s packed down hard, and the snow banks…well, the snowbanks look like this:

But nearly every place has its challenging months—maybe Hawaii doesn’t?—and in Maine, we must suffer through March to get to April, when Spring truly begins.

Still, even in this soggy, dirty time, there are hopeful signs that Spring is just around the corner. The other day, I heard the male cardinal singing his spring song. Such a lovely sound. And the ice on the pathways has started to melt, making walking on them so much easier.

Now to Snow-Gauge Clif.

We have decided that while Clif’s snow gauge might be charming, it is not, ahem, the most accurate way to measure snow.  There’s a solid wedge of snow between the top cover and the ground, and the snow gauge can’t break through that wedge. Therefore, the snow gauge will be used as a visual cue rather than as an accurate measurement tool.

In the front yard, the snow hasn’t melted much, but the driveway is much clearer. Progress!

Here he is in the sunnier backyard, where we are seeing some more progress, at least on the pathways.

Rain is in the forecast for this week, and perhaps it will wear some of the snow away in our shady yard. However, March often has a sneaky way of bringing us wet, heavy snowstorms that can knock out power.

So only time will tell! Stay tuned for next week with Snow-Gauge Clif.

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Watching

Movie: It Was Just an Accident, an Oscar nominee for Best Foreign Film

The 2026 Academy Awards ceremony will be televised next Sunday, March 15. As movie buffs, we are always interested in seeing nominated films, and although we never manage to see them all, we do a pretty good job of seeing most. This week, It Was Just an Accident was on our roster. To borrow from an old saying, better late than never. As it turned out, this Iranian film was my absolute favorite of the year.

Now, I am certainly aware of the significance of my choice. After all, the U.S. is pounding the crap out of Iran, which in turn is pounding the crap out of its neighbors. A horrible, brutal mess with implications that might be with us for a long while.

But I did not choose It Was Just an Accident because of its political significance. Instead, I loved this movie because of the skill of its director, Jafar Panahi—his humanism, his humor, and his wisdom in telling what is essentially a grim story.

A brief synopsis: A man, Eghbal, and his family are driving on a dark road at night. First, he runs over and kills a dog, then his car breaks down. He brings it to a local garage to be fixed. Eghbal has a prosthetic leg, and when one of the mechanics, Vahid, hears it squeak as Eghbal walks, this sets off a chain of events. Vahid is certain he remembers that awful squeak from when he was in an Iranian prison, and that this is the man who tortured him.

Determined to kill Eghbal, Vahid kidnaps him and plans to bury him alive. But when Eghbal insists he is innocent, Vahid begins to have doubts. Knocking Eghbal out, Vahid stuffs him into a large box in his van and sets out to find others who might be able to confirm that this is indeed the right man.

What follows is a darkly comic series of events as Vahid acquires a group of folks who have been tortured by a man with a squeaky prosthetic leg. But is it this man? They were all blindfolded when they were tortured, and no one saw his face.

One of the funniest scenes is when Vahid is approached by security guards who demand a bribe to let him and his cohorts go on their way. The guards are unaware that Eghbal is hidden in the van. When Vahid tells the guards he has no cash, one of them whips out a credit card reader, and all is well.

At the same time, this movie is no spoof, and it addresses serious issues—mercy, guilt, brutality, vengeance, and memory. Each character feels fully rounded rather than a type. Really, I cannot recommend this film enough. It Was Just an Accident is available on Hulu and can also be rented on Prime Video, Apple TV, and YouTube.

Do see it if you have a chance.

 

 

 

 

Snow-Gauge Clif, Winter

And He’s Back—Snow-gauge Clif: March 3, 2026

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I know this is the time of year many of you look forward to: Starting in March, at the beginning of each week, Clif goes out with his trusty red snow gauge to measure the snow until it is gone from our yard. Usually, sometime in April, but with climate change, it’s hard to predict.

Weather-wise—but certainly not politically—it has been a good winter for central Maine. It has even been what you might call an old-fashioned winter, with fluffy snow, a decent amount on the ground, and few horrible windstorms to knock out the power. It is the kind of winter I remember from my childhood in Waterville, about twenty-five miles from where I live now. Yes, this year we have had to cancel some activities because of the weather, but that is winter in Maine, and it is to be expected. It has been colder than average, but you can’t have everything. If our country were going as well as this central Maine winter is, then we would be in pretty good shape.

So drumroll, please, as Snow-Gauge Clif makes his first appearance of the 2026 season.

Here he is in the front yard.

You can see by his solemn expression that Snow-Gauge Clif takes his job very seriously. Amount of snow: 17 inches.

And here he is in the backyard, where we get more sun. Amount of snow: 12 inches.

While I was tottering around outside, I took a couple more pictures.

One of the back bed, where the dried hydrangeas and the garden ornament make a pretty foreground to the woods in the back.

And then one looking down, as I have to do on our icy paths around the house. This time of year, there are always some interesting little tidbits that have blown from the trees surrounding our yard. I did not arrange the leaf and the evergreen sprig. That is nature’s arrangement.

Stay tuned for more of Snow-Gauge Clif!

 

Winter

A Stormy Tale: Maine and Massachusetts

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Yesterday, a powerful storm named Hernando made its way up the East Coast, from the mid-Atlantic to the Northeast, including Massachusetts, where my daughter and son-in-law live, and Maine, where we live. The storm brought snow, snow, and more snow.

Because Maine is north of north, you might think that we got hit the hardest, but you would be wrong. Where Shannon and Mike live, just outside Boston, the snowfall was twenty-one inches. (Boston is about 160 miles south of us.) To the south of them, in Rhode Island, snowfall totaled nearly thirty inches, and travel bans were in effect in some counties. (Folks, that’s a lot of snow, even by Maine standards.) Maine’s snowfall? Two inches. As I write this, Clif is outside with his scoop and shovel, cleaning the driveway and walkways. There is too little snow for Snow Joe.

Here are some pictures that Shannon and Mike took outside Boston.

The view from their window,

their parking lot,

and on the way to work the next day—again, just outside Boston. Has a Narnia look, doesn’t it?

And here is a picture of our porch. The snow on the rail will give an idea of how much snow we got—not much.

It’s funny how a storm can peter out as it moves north. At our home on the edge of the woods, none of us were sorry that Hernando didn’t dump a lot of snow on us. As you can probably tell from the picture, we have plenty of snow, and we certainly didn’t need thirty inches more.

Still, in New England, a winter without snow is a sorry affair, not good for the perennials, not good for the water table. But one thing is certain: this year, in New England, we have plenty of snow.

 

Cats, Movies, Winter

A Hazy Shade of Winter

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On Friday, the sky—to borrow from Simon and Garfunkel—was a hazy shade of winter.

In February in Maine, that can mean only one thing—snow—and snow it did, about five or six inches, which for northern New England is a nice little storm. The snow was not too heavy, and our trusty electric snow-thrower, Snow Joe, easily took care of it.

On Saturday, the skies cleared, and we had one of those beautiful winter days that Maine is known for.

Here is the view of our front yard from our living room window.

A side view from the window in my bedroom.

Kai decided he needed to look out the window, too. Perhaps he needs his own little camera?

Today—Monday, February 23—the sky is again a hazy shade of winter. A nor’easter is blowing up the coast, and this morning my daughter, who lives in Boston, wrote to tell me it is snowing so hard she can’t see the bridge from her window, a bridge that is usually visible.

South of us, in Portland, the nor’easter has hit with blowing snow and low visibility, but in central Maine, it has just begun to snow. The forecast is between four and eight inches. Again, no big deal for us.

For years, I wished we lived closer to the coast. I love the ocean and the sound of waves hitting the shore. The salt air and the cry of gulls. But now that the climate crisis is upon us, I am glad we live inland, where, as a rule, the storms aren’t as bad.

And although we live in a lakes region, not far from the Kennebec River, we live on a hill that keeps us high and dry when we do get storms. No flooding at our home at the edge of the woods. I wish I could write that this was our plan when we bought the house forty-two years ago, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was pure dumb luck. Always grateful when Chance is on our side.

Note: Long-time readers have been asking about Snow-Gauge Clif and when he will be featured on the blog. Well, I have some good news. Snow-Gauge Clif always makes his appearance on the first Monday in March and then on every Monday, usually into April, measuring the snow until it is gone. Next Monday is the first Monday in March. Stay tuned.

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Watching

How to Make a Killing

One of my blogging friends, Derrick Knight, mentioned in a comment that he can’t go to the movies anymore because he has to sit with his knees bent. I replied that in today’s post, I would show him why, with my creaky knees, I can go to the cinema and sit in comfort.

Here is the reason:

Our cinema has recliners, which I fondly refer to as Baracloungers, and they are oh-so-comfortable, especially for folks like me with creaky knees.

Our cinema, Regal, also offers a pass for $24 a month that lets us see one movie a day. Naturally, we don’t go to that many. We might be true-blue ciniphiles, but we have our limits. Usually, we see one movie a week, maybe two, depending on what’s showing. But even if we only see one, the cost is about $5 a movie, which is a wicked good deal.

Last weekend, we saw the crime thriller How to Make a Killing, a dark comedy about Becket, a young man from a rich family. Although his mother was banished, Becket is in line for a substantial inheritance, but other family members are ahead of him. What to do? Why kill them, of course. And that’s exactly what Beckett, played by the ever-charming Glenn Powell, sets out to do. Naturally, complications ensue along with a nifty plot twist at the end.

I’m only a little ashamed to admit that I enjoyed every minute of this movie, no doubt largely because of Powell’s charm. If you like dark comedy crime movies and shows, such as Burn Before Reading or Ripley, then you will probably like How to Make a Killing.

 

 

 

 

 

Movies, Winter

Midwinter Calm, a Time for Movies

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On the Homefront 

Here we are in the middle of February, midwinter in Maine. I love this still, cold time of year when the house is surrounded by snow, and I can see the sky because the trees are bare.

Here is the view from the living room window during the blue hour

Another day, in the afternoon, I took pictures of our backyard through an open window in my bathroom.

The memorial bench is surrounded by and covered with snow.

Most of the garden is a sea of snow, an excellent protection from the extreme cold we had in December and January. (Not much above zero for those two months.) But there is some interest thanks to the hydrangeas that Judy of New England Garden and Thread gave me, some black-eyed Susans, and the ornaments I left in the garden.

Midwinter is a time for reading, getting together with friends, and going to the movies. All right, I pretty much do this year-round, but in the winter, I don’t have to worry about outside chores, which are often front and center.

Movies, Movies, Movies

The Academy Awards are coming right up—March 15—and we try to see as many of the nominees as possible. Even though we are adults, we are still keen on animated films. (Young at heart or arrested development?) This weekend, we saw three of the animated films nominated for Best Picture.

KPop Demon Hunters

This movie is loud and lively, filled with kick-butt female demon hunters who love to eat and sing. Perfect for its intended audience of tweens and young teens. For adults? Not so much. However, from time to time, I did find myself bobbing to the music. Available to stream on Netflix.

Zootopia 2

Can two detectives, a fox and a rabbit, work together despite their differences? And an even bigger question: should reptiles, who are even more different than mammals, be allowed to live in Zootopia? This film is beautifully animated. Most adults will certainly appreciate the message of tolerance and understand how it applies to our own human world. The movie is at times hectic, which children will enjoy, but there is enough in the story for adults to enjoy as well.  Currently playing in cinemas.

Arco

This is my favorite of the three, and I highly recommend it. A young boy named Arco lives in a future where time travel is possible. His sister and parents regularly travel back in time to gather plants, but they maintain Arco is too young to go with them. Does Arco sneak into his sister’s room and steal her time-traveling garb? Of course he does, and back to the past he goes, inadvertently landing in 2075 when the climate crisis is becoming a grave threat. There, he meets a young girl named Iris. Naturally, complications ensue, and he has a difficult time returning to the future.

This gentle, soulful movie does not preach, but it does not shy away from the worst of what the climate crisis could bring to Earth. How many movies, animated or not, examine this subject? Not very many. We saw Arco at the Maine Film Center, which specializes in independent movies, but it will soon be available on streaming services.

 

 

Food for Thought, Winter

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

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Lately, the country’s eyes have been on Minnesota, in particular, Minneapolis, as federal agents—2,000 of them—run rampant, terrorizing the city’s citizens.

As a Mainer, I feel a special kinship with Minnesota, even though the states are 1,100 miles apart. To begin with, Maine and Minnesota are at a similar latitude—in the mid-40s. For residents of both states, winter is a fact of life, rolling around each year after autumn’s glorious blaze and hanging on for five months. We are intimately acquainted with snow and cold. (I was born in September, and was only months old when I experienced my first winter.) Even in the summer, Mainers are thinking about winter, and I expect the same is true for folks in Minnesota.

Late January morning

 

Frost waves on the window

It seems to me that living in a state that experiences deep winter gives its residents a certain pluck and fortitude. Sure, we sometimes hunker down to keep the home fires burning, especially if the temperature dips too far below zero, but we also venture forth in the cold to go to movies and restaurants, to visit friends and family. Some hardy folks drill holes in the ice to fish. Not my idea of fun, but each to their own.

Perhaps just as important, Maine and Minnesota are also considered liberal states, sharing concerns about the climate, gay rights, and equality.

When winter pluckiness is combined with progressive politics, the results are astonishing. We see Minnesotans go forth into the extreme cold with their whistles and cell phones to defend neighbors who have been targeted — often unfairly — by federal agents. They brave tear gas and sometimes bullets. They deliver food and other necessities to those who are afraid to leave their houses. And they march in protests.

On a recent Bulwark podcast, Adam Serwer, a journalist at The Atlantic, spoke beautifully about neighborism in Minneapolis: “It doesn’t matter who you are, doesn’t matter what gender you are. It doesn’t matter what race you are. It doesn’t matter what religion you are. You are my neighbor. I will defend you.”

Serwer’s words moved me to tears. Although I am not religious, the courage and generosity of Minnesotans strike me as the best of what Christianity embodies. No small thing when we too often see the worst of Christianity via Christian Nationlists, the intolerance, the repression.

So let us follow Minneapolis’s example. Let us open our hearts to our neighbors, no matter their race, creed, or gender.

When the porch is shoveled, please come for tea or coffee.

 

 

Food, Snow-Gauge Clif, Winter

No Escape

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Dreary March has come to central Maine. We are in a no-man’s land between winter and spring, a time of dirty snow, fog, and gray skies.

On the other hand, northern Maine, the land of my ancestors, is still in winter’s firm grip. Last weekend, they got a foot of snow, and the drifting was so bad some roads had to be closed. Ah, winter! However, in a few weeks, March will come for them, too. In Maine there is no escape.

Behold the end of our driveway and across the road, both of which scream March.

Dirty snow or not, Snow-Gauge Clif must do his job.

In the front yard, the snow measured 17 inches, only 1 inch down from last week. The front yard is very shaded, and the snow melts slowly.

On the other hand, the sunnier backyard measured 7 inches, 5 inches down from last week.  More sun, quicker melt.

To cheer myself up from the March blahs, last Wednesday I headed to the little town of Wayne—population 1,189 and named after Revolutionary War General Anthony Wayne—to A Small Town Bakery. On Wednesdays, a group of women meets to discuss matters big and small, and it’s so nice to get together with like-minded folks. Plus, I seem to be addicted to the bakery’s blueberry muffins. (Sorry, no picture! Next time.)

The bakery has a funky, mismatched, comfortable look that reminds me of bakeries in the 1970s. It’s a look that I’m fond of and brings back memories of my teenage years.

And I absolute love these chickens.

If my house didn’t already have an—ahem—abundance of ornaments, those chickens would be coming home with me. I can almost hear them clucking to each other.

But fear not. I didn’t come home empty handed. I brought back a loaf of the bakery’s utterly delicious anadama bread, a New England specialty. I could have a slice right now. Toasted, of course.

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Last week also brought something not quite as pleasant as bread and blueberry muffins. I had my annual sinus infection that for some odd reason usually arrives in March. It’s as though my body is mourning the end of winter and the beginning of purgatory. The infection begins gradually with the aching of teeth and then progresses to a painful throbbing that comes and goes in waves. No fun, but as it always goes away by itself in a week or so, I don’t bother with antibiotics. Don’t want to overuse them.

I mention this because I inadvertently found a method to relieve the pain, and I thought I would share it here with those who might not know about this method. (Took me sixty-seven years to figure it out.)

One night, when the wave of pain was bad enough so that I could not fall asleep, I decided to to do some deep breathing to focus on something else. To my astonishment, the pain went away. When the pain came back five or so minutes later, I did some more deep breathing. Again, the pain went away.  I did this off and on until I finally fell asleep.

The next day, I thought, what the heck. Is deep breathing really a solution to the pain brought on by sinus infections? To Google I went, and sure enough, it is. Also, headaches, too, which fortunately I seldom have.

So there you have it. An easy and natural remedy for sinus infection pain. Obviously, some infections must be treated by antibiotics, and it’s up to individuals to decide if treatment is necessary. But for me, who has a history of sinus infections and know that they go away on their own, the deep breathing method is a godsend. I only wish I had known about it sooner.

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Listening

What better way to say a sad farewell to winter than with Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song”? (Remember, I’m a child of the 70s and a huge Led Zeppelin fan.)

I come from the lands of the ice and snow…where the harsh winds blow.

 

 

Art, Books, Winter

Some Thoughts on Shadows

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In Maine, we have moved from deep winter to late winter and will soon be approaching the purgatory that is mid-March. But we still have a few weeks to go until purgatory, and in the meantime winter reigns, that time of shadows on the snow. How I love to see the shadows in our backyard.

The way the slats from the fence register on the snow,

the way the blue shadows stripe the yard,

and the way the dark shadows fill the woods.

Such a beautiful season, and even though staying warm is expensive, I never wish for winter to hurry into spring. Each year, I  welcome winter with a glad heart and am always renewed by this still, cold season that encourages a person to turn inward.

While we don’t want to turn inward indefinitely—we need spring and the exuberant return to life—winter, for me at least, is a necessary time to examine personal shadows and try to come to terms with them.

If this sounds very Jungian, well, it is. Years ago, I blasted through the books of the late, great Canadian writer Robertson Davies, who was a great admirer of Carl Jung, author and psychiatrist, among other things. If I remember correctly, Davies maintained that Jung, with his emphasis on the unconscious, was the patron saint of artists, all of whom, one way or another, dig deep into the unconsciousness to produce art. The deeper the dive, the greater the art. (By art, I mean art in general, which includes literature, dance, music, theater, and, yes, movies.)

Therefore, as I am surrounded by the shadows of winter, I settle in to read and think and write.

Spring will come soon enough.

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Listening

Bob Dylan: “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall

Bob Dylan, a musician who has been much in the news because of the bio pic A Complete Unknown, certainly dug deep to write his songs. “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” beautifully illustrates this.

Food, Music, Winter

A Weekend of Weather Extremes

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Last weekend was a weekend of extremes. On Saturday, the weather was sunny and clear, which meant we could head to Waterville for a movie (A Light Never Goes Out, a sweet film about loss) and then afterwards a trip to Buen Apetito for lunch with our friend Joel.

We were lucky enough get a seat on the glassed-in porch, and I was struck by how the sunlight hit Joel’s pomegranate margarita.

Clif and I ordered our favorite, potato flautases. We had read online that the menu at Buen Apetito would be changing soon, and we asked our server about potato flautuses. Would they still be there?

“Oh, don’t worry,” she assured us. “They are staying on the menu. Besides, they’re my favorite, too, and I would fight to keep them on.”

Nodding, we smiled and left her a very good tip.

Sunday was a stormy day. The original forecast was for a foot-and-a-half of snow, and that, my friends, is a lot of snow even for a Mainer. Fortunately, we only got about six or seven inches, well within our comfort zone for cleaning the driveway and paths.

Here are some snowy-day scenes.

Pushing through the snow to open the door.

A shovel, ready and waiting.

The view from the front deck.

Our little red Fit under the trees.

Clif with Sno-Joe, our electric snow-thrower.

Dee and I cleaned the cars and shoveled the walkways, and I’m pleased to report that even with creaky knees, I did just fine. Somehow, I remain unfazed by the prospect of shoveling snow. I suppose it’s because I’ve done so much of it.

Afterwards, we had soggy hats and gloves. In our dining room, we have a handy place to dry some of them. (The overflow goes on racks down cellar.)

Long-time readers friends will be happy to learn that there is plenty of snow for snow-gauge Clif to measure come March.  In January, we weren’t so sure, but February has put that fear to rest.

Onward to the next storm!

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Listening

Northern Attitude: Noah Kahan with Hozier

Right about now, this song seems pretty appropriate. Noah Kahan is from Vermont, which, like Maine, knows a thing or two about winter and long dark days.