A Jolly Good Storm
Not long ago, on BBC News, I heard a reporter state that President Trump had had “a jolly good rant.” That certainly was one way of putting it.
“Jolly good” has stuck with me, and Clif and I now use it to describe various things, such as my kitchen after I am done cooking—a jolly good mess—to yesterday’s first big storm of the season. Hence the title of this piece.
This particular storm—named Harper, I believe—swept across the country from the West to the Midwest. Harper then headed to the Northeast, leaving lots of snow and ice, delaying flights, and bringing the usual mayhem that such a storm delivers.
The predictions for central Maine were dire: up to eighteen inches of snow, followed by wind and freezing rain. As I’ve noted before, Mainers dread hearing the words “freezing rain,” which can cause power outages, sometimes for a week or more. We can take the snow, but oh do we hate to lose our power, especially when it’s very cold, as it was yesterday and continues to be so today.
Back in the day, in the 1960s and 1970s, when I was young, ice storms were very uncommon in Maine. I can remember one, when I was eleven or twelve, and I was so enchanted by the sparkling branches that I rode on my snowmobile and took pictures of what looked like a fairyland to me. (I’ve always had a fanciful mind.) If we lost our power, it didn’t make an impression on me, so it couldn’t have been for very long, if indeed we lost it at all.
How different from today, where every storm in the winter brings the potential of freezing rain. Fortunately, most times there’s just a thin glaze of ice, but still, we hate and fear freezing rain.
I am happy to report that while Storm Harper brought sleet, which ticked against our windows, he did not bring freezing rain. Also, we only got eight inches of snow, well below the predicted amount of eighteen inches. I know this is bragging, but for most Mainers, eight inches of snow is nothing to worry about, especially if there isn’t freezing rain.
So all in all, it was indeed a jolly good storm.
Still, there was clean-up to be done. Even with only eight inches of snow, getting out the front door was not easy.
Our shovel, which we keep handy, was tucked in the snow, as were our blue buckets of sand and salt..
Once outside on the deck, I could survey our winter wonderland.
Finally, here is Clif with Little Green.
Today, we have a bit more cleaning to do. A couple of inches of snow fell last night, and as it always does, the town’s snowplow has left a ridge of snow at the end of the driveway.
Winter is definitely here.
Another Treat in the Mail: Myrtle’s Game by Cynthia Reyes and Lauren Reyes-Grange
This has been quite a week for receiving packages from afar. On Monday, a box of oranges and lemons came from my blogging friend Betsy. Today, it was a book—Myrtle’s Game by the mother and daughter team Cynthia Reyes and Lauren Reyes-Grange. Myrtle’s Game was sent all the way from Canada by the author herself. Oh, the wonderful world of blogging!
Myrtle’s Game, the sequel to Myrtle the Purple Turtle, is a bold, vibrant picture book featuring the irrepressible Myrtle and her friends. The story opens with them playing water soccer. They are, after all, turtles. But then the turtles notice other woodland animals playing soccer on land. When they ask to be included, Myrtle and her friends are snubbed. They are told that because they are turtles, they are too slow for playing the game on land.
While their feelings might be hurt, Myrtle and her friends are not discouraged, and they come up with a way to be included in the game. Most young readers will have had experiences similar to Myrtle and her friends. Because of this, children will be able to identify with the turtles and admire their persistence. By the end of the story, a lesson is learned, and it is a good one.
Jo Robinson’s vivid illustrations are both energetic and friendly, exactly right for young readers.
Along with the book, Cynthia sent me a magnet, which is now on my refrigerator.
What better words for these times, when some “shells” are considered better than others?
Vive la différence!
Ice Snakes
A Dog for All Seasons
Today is the anniversary of the birthday of our beloved dog, Liam. He would have been fourteen years old. As regular readers know, we had to have Liam put down last May, and there is still a lump in my throat whenever I think of him.
How Clif and I loved that dog buddy, and that love stayed constant right to the end, when caring for him was a lot of work. But we never begrudged him any of our time. Love really does make all the difference, whether for an animal or a person.
Here are some pictures of Liam through the seasons. He loved being outdoors, especially in the winter, and truly was a dog of the north. He was also always ready for a lark, and if I had to use one word to describe Liam that word would be “joy.”
A Sunny Gift on a Cold Day
Normally, I don’t post two pieces on my blog in the same day, but I just received a box of these beauties from my blogging friend, Betsy, all the way from sunny California. So today I am making an exception.
Holy cats, this gift of oranges and lemons made my day! Many, many thanks, Betsy, for your wonderful generosity. Oh, how beautiful they are.
And to think they grew in Betsy’s own backyard. While I love living in Maine, I have to admit that I would be thrilled beyond description to actually be able to pick oranges in my backyard.
Again, Betsy, thanks so much!
A Warm Bear of a Place
Yesterday, we took our books and illustrations to Bear Bones Beer in Lewiston, Maine. It was part of a pop-up event sponsored by the Sunday Indie Market.
While we didn’t sell many books—it was a fairly quiet January Sunday at Bear Bones—we had one heck of a good time. First of all, Bear Bones is such a warm, inviting place to gather, whether you’re a beer drinker or not. There are wooden tables with chairs scattered here and there as well as comfortable chairs in front of a gas fireplace. (Alas, we did not take more pictures of the charming interior. What were we thinking?) In short, Bear Bones has a great vibe, a place to come on a cold day, to meet people and talk.
And talk we did, mostly with the other delightful vendors. We were lucky enough to be next Nate and Megan Chasse of Sweet & Savory Bakehouse. My oh my, what good bakers they are! Nate generously gave us a bag of mixed bagels, which we had with soup when we got home. Their bagels taste tangier than most bagels, and Clif and I had to be firm with ourselves and stop with just one each. We learned that Nate went to culinary school and that he and Megan are able to support themselves with the proceeds from their bakery. Go team, Chasse!
I also had some time to sit in a comfy chair by the fireplace. I chatted with Sheri Withers Hollenbeck, one of the organizers of the Sunday Indie Market in Lewiston, and her mother, Bonita. So lovely to get to know them.
Food is not served at Bear Bones, but customers are allowed to bring in their own from other places. In a table not from where we were set up, a man brought in a whole cheese cake, which he shared with Nate and Megan and Clif and me. He even provided plates and spoons for us. It’s that kind of place.
When our stint was over, Clif got a baby beer—a $3 hobbit-sized glass of the Bear Bones IPA. A nice way to end the day.
Readers, if you live in the Lewiston area and want a warm place to go on a cold winter’s day, head to Bear Bones Beer. They also host events such as trivia nights and open mics, so check out their events page before you go.
My Love of the Little Things in My House
Confession time: I am someone who loves little things—call them knickknacks, tchotchkes, whatever—and my house is filled with them. They make me feel cozy, and not surprisingly I think the sparse, modern style is cold and uncomfortable. Everywhere I look in my house, there is something that makes me smile, and here is a small sample of what’s tucked in various rooms.
There is a lovely blue wall ornament that my blogging friend Shari made and sent to me.
A little wolf given to me by my friend Beth.
A handmade glass ornament given to me by mother, who has been dead for ten years. Whenever I look at it, I think of her.
A glass bluebird, given to me by my son-in-law, Mike, sitting in a woven basket given to me by my friend Judy.
A pottery bowl, with my favorite shape—the spiral—given to me by my daughter Dee.
There is a pattern here, I know. These little things were given to me by other people, and they were chosen thoughtfully. All of them are handmade by somebody, if not the person giving me the gift, and this is true of many of the little things I have tucked here and there.
Time for some qualifications. I understand a dirty, cluttered home can feel as uncomfortable as a sparse one. I also understand that there can too much of a good thing, and in fact, nowadays, I hardly ever bring in anything to add to my collection of little things. Finally, I understand that from an environmental point of view, buying too much stuff is not good at all.
But bucking the current trend of decluttering, I will not be getting rid of my little things—which bring me so much pleasure—anytime soon.
Tucked in
Apple Crisp to Go
Last weekend was the time for taking down the Christmas decorations. We did it on Saturday, January 5, which by some reckonings is Twelfth Night. (Others put Twelfth Night on January 6. We don’t have strong feelings about this and are willing to keep an open mind.)
It always makes me a little sad to take down the decorations and to put the tree away. I miss the the ornaments—some fanciful, some homespun, some lovely—and the soft glow of the lights. Here they are, all packed away. Farewell, my sweets, until next December.
But I really didn’t have time to brood because after the decorations were put away, it was on to the next project—apple crisp, which we brought to our friends Judy and Paul.
We took it hot out of the oven, hence the towel and pan, and at Judy and Paul’s house, the crisp was still warm enough to melt ice cream when it was served. Somehow, apple crisp is such a cozy, satisfying dessert in the winter. Best of all, I am able to get local apples at a nearby orchard well into winter, and I plan on making quite a few apple crisps for friends between now and spring.
At Judy and Paul’s, we talked of many things—politics, American history, and the moral failings of our founding fathers, who pieced together a country but blighted it with slavery. Unfortunately, the ugly repercussions are still being felt today, over 200 years later.
Paul noted that our founding fathers—John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin—did the best that they could. But did they? What would have happened if slavery had not been permitted? No country? Quite likely, but things fell apart less than a hundred years later, with the Civil War. Even afterwards, so many people continued to suffer because of the color of their skin. And still do.
Heavy topics for a January day. Good thing we had apple crisp, ice cream, and tea to lighten the mood.
When we came home from Judy and Paul’s, Clif made some of his delectable homemade French Fries, and we had them with faux chicken nuggets, which are tastier than you might think. Alas, no pictures. I’ll do better next time.
Then we settled down to watch Trevor Nunn’s delightful production of Twelfth Night, filmed in Cornwall and starring, among others, Ben Kingsley and Helena Bonham Carter. We own the DVD and watch it yearly. I think you can guess on which night. A bit of trivia: In Nunn’s Twelfth Night, Kingsley plays the jester, Feste, and I based my own Feste, in Maya and the Book of Everything, on Kingsley’s performance.
Might as well borrow from the best.
Notes From the Hinterland 