Sunday, February 29, 2004, noon
42 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
Today is just as beautiful as yesterday, but a little
warmer.
The yard is getting pretty muddy, and clumps of snow
still clinging to
rooftops soon slide noisily to the ground. This is the
first day the air has had a
faint whiff of dirt about it, and I suspect that much of
the earthiness emanates from
the large amounts of sand that have been spread on the
road during winter storms.
Everything was icy-crunchy just after dawn, but the snow
is now nothing but corn,
rapidly evolving into cold mushy gruel. After lunch we
will head off into the woods
to see what’s new. Yesterday we skied over to the
trails we had marked out on Friday,
and most of them had been overrun by snowmobiles. Lucky
for us the woods were full
of untracked user-friendly snow and we could ski just
about anywhere, so we paralleled
the sled tracks and made our way to the top of Snow Ridge.
There were lots of people
on the slopes and it was a fine day for just about any
outdoor activity. I took a lot of
friends with me yesterday; many were fairly new to
the sport of cross-country skiing but
a good time was had by all. It was such a perfect day,
full of sunshine, blue skies, and lots
of laughter on the trail as many practiced the fine art
of returning to an upright position
following a tumble. (Some practiced this skill a lot...)
We looked in vain for gently
swelling buds of pussy willows, but it has been too cold
for this first harbinger of spring.
A few more days like this will bring on all kinds of
surprises. For now,
I am shutting down the computer and heading out on the
Hill for the rest of the day.
Want to join me ?
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 28, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
21 degrees, breezy, sunny
The sun came up with a flourish this morning,
a little bright pink and orange then wham ! There it was
!
When I stepped outside with the dog just after sunrise
there was a silvery fireball
moving slowly across the sky, trailing twin plumes of
vapor. Closer inspection through
binoculars revealed it to be a huge airplane flying very
low, reflecting the first rays of
sunlight from its gargantuan hull. I have never seen a
commercial aircraft flying that low
up here; it appeared to be making a large circle in the
sky, perhaps preparing to land
at Fort Drum. It is a beautiful day for a ski party,
which is exactly what is in the plans.
Yesterday we scoped out a trail through the woods to the
State Trails at Carpenter
Road. We found several places with natural snow bridges
across Mill Creek, but we
crossed on a snow-covered log six feet above the water.
That was pretty nerve-wracking,
but we all made it safely across. The Mill Creek Trail is
in beautiful condition, but all of
the other cross-country ski trails have been thoroughly
torn up by outlaw snowmobilers.
What is it with those thoughtless fools ? Ah well, no use
getting my shorts in a twist;
the damage has been done and until the next snowfall we
will just have to ski elsewhere.
Gliding through the woods has been excellent, and the
weather these past few days has
given us some great opportunities to get out and explore.
Yesterday there were tiny
seedpods helicoptering down from the sky, looking much
like maple seeds but only
about a quarter of an inch long. Glittering snow crystals
were floating lazily around us
and the sunshine was unbelievably bright as it turned
every icy snowflake on the forest
floor into a rainbow of color. How lucky we are to be
able to enjoy Mother Nature’s
many gifts during every season of the year !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 27, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
20 degrees, gentle breeze, mostly sunny
The Boonville weatherman reports a temperature of
minus two degrees
right now, but we are absolutely tropical up here on the
hill. There must be
some kind of thermal inversion going on. Many times in
late summer the valley
will have a hard freeze at night and we will stay in the
forties up here. The sky is
a lovely shade of blue with low clouds following the
Black River Valley. Visibility
is good and the Adirondack Mountains are bathed in
sunshine above the mist.
Yesterday we skied off-piste through some balsam swamps
and hardwood forests
and saw lots of animal tracks and sign. One dense
hawthorn thicket was thickly
carpeted with snowshoe hare tracks, but they didn’t
wander too far from that small
protected copse. I wonder where the bunnies were hiding?
This time of year they
are usually beginning to get a few brown hairs mixed in
with the white and their
camouflage is often incomplete. We looked for mink tracks
in a place where we have
seen minks romping in winters past, but all we found were
several partridge trails.
Scads of red squirrel tracks stitched the snow from tree
to tree, and one set ended
abruptly in a clearing where the unlucky critter had
probably been snatched up by a
keen-eyed hawk. There were not very many deer tracks
yesterday, and I wonder if
deep snow and lack of fodder has taken a heavy toll on
the herds this year. A flock
of crows followed us for a while, voicing their opinions
from time to time and announcing
our presence to the rest of the critters who remained out
of our sight for the duration.
The gliding was good for most of the trip; just as we
neared home the snow started to
stick to our skis a little. It was a perfect day for an
outing, warm and sunny and full of life.
We are headed to the State Trails at Carpenter Road
today, edging into them from
our side of the loop; we will have to find a snow bridge
across Mill Creek,
which should be easy after all of the subzero January
days.
I love winter !
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 26, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
21 degrees, breezy, sunny
The sun came up with little fanfare; the colors were
merely average but
then the huge orb rose with a fiery gleam, causing
millions of diamond-bright
reflections across the land. It was another cold night,
but things are warming up
quickly. The meadows are crisscrossed with dozens of
critter tracks, and in the
woods snowshoe hares have apparently taken control of the
terrain. We enjoyed
our coffee on the sunporch this morning. Down vests and
warm socks were required
for maximum enjoyment of the first cup, but by the refill
we were barefoot and in our
shirtsleeves. Daylight hours are becoming noticeably
longer, increasing by as much as
three minutes a day. It is wonderful to drive home from
work and enjoy the purple
twilight hour, viewed from my car window. Just a month
ago the trip home was sketchy,
all windblown whiteouts in the black of night; this past
week it was gentle crescent
moonrise and stars twinkling into view, one at a time.
Spring is on the way,
no doubt about it, but that doesn’t mean that winter
is entirely over,
especially here on Tug Hill.
Enjoy whatever Mother Nature sends your way today,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 25, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
14 degrees, soft breeze, sunny
It is another beautiful late winter morning on Tug Hill.
It is colder than it looks; lazy drops of melted snow are
trickling off the roof,
warmed by the bright sun, but it is definitely too cold
to dash to the barn for
kindling coatless and shod only in flipflops. There will
be a warming trend as
the week wears on, with almost spring-like conditions for
the weekend. The
snow is beginning to look a little bedraggled and rough
around the edges, but
it still affords a great surface for cross country skis.
For the upcoming few weeks
we will be looking for signs of spring every time we
venture out. Perhaps some
pussy willow buds are beginning to plump up, or insects
will begin to tentatively
probe brushpiles and firewood debris. Skunk and porcupine
tracks will certainly
crop up in the coming week, and the night air will echo
coyotes’ calls as they
cull weak deer from the herd. Keep your eyes and ears
open,
and spring will happen little by slow, when you least
expect it.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 24, 2004, 6:45 a.m.
16 degrees, calm, overcast
A moment ago the eastern sky was filled with big billows
of magenta and rose;
now there is just an echo of brilliant color in a thin
stripe near the horizon. The sky
is filled with several small flocks of blackbirds heading
north in a hurry. Our little
group of starlings by the barn now numbers about ten, and
they are silent this morning.
Yesterday a big gathering of snow buntings flitted around
aimlessly for a while over the
west meadow before heading off in unison into the forest.
It was such a beautiful day
filled with sunshine and the rays warmed us nicely as we
walked. I hung towels out on
the line and in spite of the fact the temperature never
rose much past twenty, they were
dry by nightfall. As I drove home from work at dusk, a
crescent moon stood out in bright
relief against deep purple skies, accompanied by a single
bright star right next to it. I heard
the high-pitched yips and yaps of a pack of coyotes on
the move as I crossed the yard;
they sounded very near. Soon we will be able to sleep
with our windows open again,
and listen to nature’s night music.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, February 23, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
25 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Ah, the awesome power of late winter sunshine !
When I arose this morning, it was only seven degrees. Now
it is nearly twenty
degrees warmer in just a couple of hours time. A thick
bank of white clouds blankets
the Black River Valley and obscures our view of the
Adirondack Mountains. The cats
were just lined up on the linen chest staring fixedly at
something through the big kitchen
window; a flock of evening grosbeaks was flitting about
in of the maple trees in the yard.
We let one stir-crazy cat out and he bounded up the tree,
scattering the plump birds in a
flurry of soft yellow, black, and white chattering hubub.
Our diva kitty emeritus is content
to doze away the winter days on the couch, and the sleek
white barn cat that we welcomed
into our home in the dead of last winter won’t set
foot outside until every last scrap of snow
has melted. “Been there, done that,” is what
she tells us with her pale green eyes. She seems
to be very content as a house cat, but what do we really
know for sure? Would you trade
your freedom, your friends and your family for half a can
of wet food every morning and a
warm place to sleep at night? It is possible we place a
higher value on creature comforts
than do the creatures we intend to comfort? What we
interpret as feline contentment may
very well be quiet resignation; although, when she purrs
and hugs my hand as I scritch her chin,
I’m pretty sure she thinks the tradeoff was worth it.
Hope your day is the cat’s meow,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 22, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
20 degrees, windy, overcast, sparse flurries
The sun is visible as a pale silvery circle behind a
softly glowing diaphanous veil.
It looks like the clouds may be dispersing, but on a
windy day such as this, anything
is possible. Yesterday we were pleasantly surprised by
brief sunny periods, with no
rain anywhere in sight. The afternoon ski trip wound
through a large tract of managed
balsam fir, spruce, and hardwood trees. The snow was
packy but didn’t stick to our
skis, and the terrain was a combination of long straight
flat runs and occasional gentle
slopes, perfect for the novices in the group. When we
finally arrived at our destination,
we were greeted by a rowdy crew of kids who pelted us
with snowballs. Smoke curled
from the central chimney of a rustic log cabin; a firepit
sent fragrant flames to the sky
outdoors as well. Big fat flakes of snow started to fall,
and after a little refreshment some
of us headed off in a different direction to a lovely
grove of tall balsam trees by a small
stream. This was bushwhacking at its finest. Since the
woods had been well-managed,
there was a lack of alders and other dense undergrowth,
as is often found on the less
settled parts of Tug Hill. We could pick a line of sight
and follow it, unimpeded by
blackberry canes or hawthorn claws. Snow continued to
fall all through dinner, and we
picked a shorter route to return to the home farm. As we
left the protection of the forest
we skied straight into the teeth of the wind, pelted by
stinging pellets of icy sugar snow.
The temperature had dropped enough so that it was almost
one step beyond invigorating;
as I gasped for air and squinted against the howling
barrage of wintry particles, I felt very
much alive, and very grateful for the opportunity
to experience such harsh conditions and
yet feel safe and protected. I shudder to imagine what
could happen on such a night if
the farmhouse hadn’t been right at the other end of
that harsh windblown meadow.
All’s well that ends well,
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 21, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
27 degrees, calm, foggy, snowing
Three inches of new wet snow rests quietly in the yard
and more is falling at a
steady rate. It is very icy underneath, and treacherous
if you don’t step with care.
If we are lucky, the rain will stay away for the day and
the plan to ski to a friend’s
camp in Highmarket will go off without a hitch. Although
I never minded skiing in rain,
it is hard to convince everyone else that it can be fun.
Yesterday afternoon was very
windy, but the sunset drew our attention, so we took a
walk to check it out. Beautiful
colors surrounded the hazy orb as it nestled behind the
stately spruce and balsam forest.
One huge solitary raven flew out of the woods and passed
directly overhead, uttering
low mumbles, chortles, and chuckles, as if speaking
directly to us. There is no English
translation for the message, but my spirit was lifted and
I was filled with a wonderful
sense of well-being, a feeling that at that particular
moment all was right with my life.
Even the dog sat quietly at my side as the great bird
passed by, watching it with a
keen eye. Of course, we know what the dog was thinking;
“oh boy, walking,
walking with my friend, yippee skippy! walking, sniffing,
walking, hmmmm, big bird,
probably can’t catch that... ooooooh, almost
time for supper, supper, supper!
Yahooooooo!”
Have a doggone good day,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 20, 2004, 4:20 a.m.
23 degrees, calm, starless
An early morning job leads to this morning’s
pitch-black view.
Sometimes it’s hard to think of this as early
morning when it feels more like
an extremely late night. It is eerily quiet outside; no
traffic, airplanes, critters
or howling wind disturbs the stillness. Last night the
sky was filled with brilliant stars,
not a trace of cloud or moon. As I drove home from work
at 7:00, I saw something
glowing red, high in the sky, brighter than Mars last
summer. It looked like a large
scarlet star. When I blinked, it was gone... I have no
idea what it could have been.
I wonder if anyone else saw it ?
Just another little mystery in a world full of them, I
guess.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 19, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
21 degrees, gentle breeze, overcast
It is a grey morning but pleasant outdoors. The
yard is slick with snow that
thawed in yesterday’s sun and refroze overnight.
Since it is midwinter break,
traffic has been scarce this morning, and all is quiet on
Gomer Hill. Yesterday
was a perfectly beautiful day; we skied off- piste a few
miles from here through
a large cedar swamp, eventually meeting up with some of
the state trails that originate
on Carpenter Road. Snowmobiles had been over much of the
ski trail, which is clearly
marked “No Motorized Vehicles”. Fortunately,
whoever had disregarded the signs had
been traveling at moderate speed and didn’t tear up
the area too badly. It is very
frustrating to be the first skier on the path and break a
perfect set of tracks through
deep snow (there are no track-setting groomers on the
Carpenter Road Trails)
and then return the next day to find that the trail has
been turned into a roller coaster
ride of off-kilter moguls and ruts by a pack of speeding
sledders riding roughshod out
of bounds. Our seasonal roads have already been turned
into a vast twenty-four hour
snowmobile playground; please leave the cross-country ski
trails alone. We saw tons
of critter tracks meandering through the woods; the sign
of lots of small rodents, coyote,
hare, and deer was prevalent. I smelled a skunk two
nights ago, but their tracks haven’t
yet started to show up. When skunks emerge from their
winter torpor, spring isn’t far
behind. As we exited the swamp on our way home, a large
flock of crows followed
us out. I don’t know where they had been lurking...
we didn’t hear or see
one crow during the whole ski trip, yet they came out
right alongside of us,
calling loudly as they reached open space, “caw-ha-ha,
we fooled you...”
Have a nifty day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 18, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
25 degrees, calm, sunny
The temperature has increased twenty-five degrees since
before sunrise,
when it was flat zero. The flies that were stirring the
past few days have brought
their friends to the sunporch windows, and all is abuzz
with spring-like vibes.
(Let’s see how they like living inside a vacuum
cleaner bag for a while...) We are
headed towards a very pleasant day with highs in the
thirties, a great day to get
out and explore the Hill. This past week I have found
several paths made by a
large dog patrolling the woods and meadows. I have seen
tracks, I have come
upon piles of still-steaming scat, and I have heard the
eerie howls, but I have never
seen the critter who left these signs. I think this is an
animal that is nearby but chooses
to remain hidden and mysterious. Only once have I seen
evidence of a kill along the
trail; white coarse bits of fur told the tale of an
unlucky snowshoe hare who wasn’t
quite fast enough. Whatever the big dog is, it travels
alone and shuns the company
of mankind. As the weather gets warmer I may climb into a
treestand above a trail
and see what passes underneath. My curiosity about this
animal has been whetted
since I first heard some twilight howling late last
winter. It may just be a large feral dog,
or it could be one of several wolves that have been
reported to have wandered down
this way from the Algonquin wilderness area of Canada.
There has also been some
local speculation that several mated pairs of wolves have
been introduced onto Tug Hill,
but government agencies have denied this as rumor. It is
neat to know that there are
still some mysteries to be solved, that not everything
fits into neat little pigeonholes.
Get out and explore today; the truth is out there,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 17, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
12 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
This morning’s sunrise was preceded by a gorgeous
multicolored sky to the east.
There were only a few clouds at that early hour, but now
they are closing in from
all sides, big flat masses of pure white drifting across
a pale blue backdrop. I have
noticed two small signs of spring’s slow approach.
First, the sun rose today at around
seven o’clock, and it’s a little earlier each
day; it has started coming up to the left of my
window frame instead of dead center as at the winter
solstice. Second, even though the
outdoor temperature is still a bit chilly, the heat of
the midday sun has started to awaken
the flies and ladybugs that lay dormant in window casings
all winter. It won’t be long
before we see the first snow fleas hopping across the ski
trails, and honeybees sleepily
making their first forays out of the hives. Little signs
of change are everywhere;
don’t blink, you may miss something important.
Can you find a touch of springtime in your world today ?
Daisy
~
Monday, February 16, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
7 degrees, breezy, sunny
This morning’s bright sunshine will be accompanied
by somewhat more
moderate temperatures. It is already warmer than
yesterday afternoon’s high
of six degrees. I bundled up in lots of layers and took a
backpack full of apples
into the woodlot across the road. Their wonderful cidery
fragrance hovered just
at the edge of my nose, bringing autumn memories to the
wintry air. I found a deer
trail and stuck an apple on branches every ten yards or
so. There was one well-worn
rut in the same place it has been every year since we
moved here. I saw only two deer
beds; usually there are at least half a dozen. Perhaps
there are freezers full of succulent
venison all over the county; I prefer to believe a swift
demise at the end of a bullet than
the slow starvation of winterkill. Yesterday’s snow
was magical fluff that parted at every
stroke of the skis. Because it was so cold, the dry
flakes slid across each other in utter
silence, and breaking trail was effortless. It was
beautiful in the woods late in the day.
Little tree critters would occasionally dislodge clumps
of snow high in the branches,
and they sifted to earth backlit by the setting sun like
so much faerie dust. I almost
hated to come indoors, but the subzero temp finally
penetrated my many warm
layers and the warmth of the kitchen welcomed me.
I had the best of both worlds yesterday,
the wildness of the forest and the comforts of home.
I love winter,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 15, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
-2 degrees, calm, totally sunny
It is a very beautiful winter
morning.
The high winds predicted for last night never showed up,
but the subzero
temperature did, creeping down to an overnight low of
minus twelve. Four
inches of wet snow fell yesterday and another inch of dry
flat flakes fell overnight,
covering everything with a softly undulating sparkling
white blanket. The hard edges
and sharp ripples that were carved by last week’s
gale have disappeared underneath
the fluff. Since there has been no real thaw all winter,
the banks keep getting higher
and higher. We haven’t had a real big storm all
winter, but all of the snow from many
four and six inch drops is still here, packed in deep
layers across the land. I will head
into the forest across the road later with a load of soft
apples from the bin in the cellar.
It’s not much of a winter offering, but I imagine a
few deer will think it’s pretty special.
The good fruit went into a big pot of applesauce, spiced
with cinnamon and nutmeg;
yesterday the kitchen had some mighty good aromas wafting
about. Today I have to
cull through the acorn squash and steam the good ones and
roast the seeds; this will
be a special treat, as each squash only holds a few
tablespoons of the tasty kernels.
Bushels of carrots that are layered in dry maple leaves
will also need attention soon;
I see a lot of baked, steamed, glazed and potroasted
carrots in our immediate future.
Even in the dead of winter, the garden chores linger on...
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 14, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
19 degrees, breezy, flurries
The wind has died down to a stiff breeze, but all night
long it roared across the Hill,
competing in my restless dreams with the high-pitched
shriek of hundreds of snowmobiles.
A little snow fell overnight, and more is expected today.
Yesterday turned into a beautiful
sunny day, but the biting wind made even a short walk
nearly impossible. Although the
thermometer read in the high twenties, the gale drove
bitter cold right through the coated
fabric of my GoreTex coat, and the tips of my ears that
weren’t covered by my hat quickly
became numb. After about a hundred yards, the dog
expressed his opinion by sitting down
and refusing to budge another step. It has been too long
since we have been on a long
ski trek, but work and weather have played havoc with my
favorite winter sport lately.
Perhaps today will provide both the time and the
conditions we have been seeking.
We don’t mind skiing in the wind and snow, but when
deadwood widow-makers
start to plummet to earth, stabbing into the snow where
your ski tracks just passed,
it is a sign to turn back and ski another day.
Play safe,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 13, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
19 degrees, windy, snowing
Happy Friday the thirteenth, everybody !
I really like this supposedly unlucky day; Thirteen is a
prime number,
thus lucky, and hey, it’s Friday, and everybody
likes Friday ! It is a bright
snowy morning, windy and cold as February often is on Tug
Hill. We have
about two inches of new snow and everything looks clean
and new again.
Yesterday turned into a beautiful day, and we took a walk
along one of the
seasonal roads. Our little dog walked twice as far as we
did, scampering up
snowbanks and then sliding back down in the fluff to the
road, over and over
again, for all the world like a kid with a sled. When we
got to the long-dead deer
carcass, he went a little crazy sniffing and digging
through the bank to get at it.
I wonder if the spring thaw will reveal a perfectly
frozen deer, or if some little
scavengers have managed to burrow under the snow to begin
cleaning the bones.
There is a whole world of scents that mere humans can’t
detect but send dogs
into a flurry of delight. Sometimes in summery weather
the dog will sniff long and
loud at one particular spot on the wet ground; I get down
on my knees for a whiff,
and try as I might, all I smell is mud. I guess in
certain cases (like that of the dead deer)
we should be glad that some aromas elude the human nose.
One that we can enjoy is fresh bread as it bakes,
so I’d better get busy in that department.
What’s cookin’ at your house ?
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 12, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
15 degrees, calm, overcast, light flurries
It is a nondescript kind of morning, so I
don’t think I will describe it.
It is not often that a morning is so ordinary, so plain,
so lacking in special features
that it doesn’t lend itself to even one poetic turn
of phrase, but here I am, somewhat
underwhelmed by all that I see. It is sort of like a slow
news day on the radio, where
the main story is of a local school renovation or the
grand opening of a new drugstore:
No drug arrests, no snowmobile fatalities, no camps
broken into or houses that have
burned to the ground. Today the natural world offers no
fabulous cloud formations,
no terrible scouring wind driving blinding snow
horizontal, no dangerous arctic temperature
or icy buildup on the windshield. It looks like an
ordinary day from all angles, and I, for one,
am grateful for a little break in the action. Now the
challenge, as I see it,
is to turn this into an extraordinary day through our
choices and actions.
Make today special,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 11, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
12 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
The sky is clear and deep blue overhead with clouds
near the horizon in
every direction. Sunrise took a while, starting with a
warm multicolored display
that looked a lot like raspberry sherbet; next, the sun
sent out a probe of bright
light, a single radiant column that divided he thick
clouds. Now it is blazing away
over everything, tingeing all of the clouds silver along
their edges. We got about
four inches of snow in yesterday’s little storm. We
were in the city all day, and
had quite a large snowbank built up at the end of our
driveway from the town plow.
The banks are getting pretty high on Tug Hill, measuring
five feet tall in some places.
The snowblower has been through the town of Turin,
cutting all of the banks with
architectural precision. It is interesting to see the
different layers that are revealed
by the great machine; the periods of freezing rain and
sleet show up as crusty stripes.
Clean white snow is trapped between dirty layers of road
sand, layer upon layer,
like a big old wintry lasagna. It looks like it will be a
good day for just about anything,
and so far we have no plans made. On a day like this,
sometimes that turns out to be the best plan...
just let the day carry us along and soon we will be
caught up in it.
See what happens,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 10, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
24 degrees, windy, snowing
It is snowing and blowing pretty good right now.
The sky is bright above the clouds, and this has all of
the
characteristics of a classic lake effect storm. According
to the
tv weatherman, this should lighten up soon and settle
down into
occasional spurts of snow. This will be the weather
pattern for the
entire week, moderate temperatures and some snow every
day.
These are the kinds of systems that can hover longer than
expected
and often will produce significant amounts of snow over a
very small area.
We will see what the rest of the week holds in store,
taking it one day at a time and being prepared for
anything.
Come to think of it, that would work for just about
anything...
Enjoy today,
Daisy
~
Monday, February 9, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
12 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The skyline colors are fading
and the sun has still not made an appearance
above the clouds. All is a quiet silvery blue above the
muted orange cloud bank,
with a brighter spot where the sun is hiding. The award
for most beautiful sky of the
century has to go to last night’s duet of the
sun and moon. In all our years on Tug Hill
we have never seen anything as outstanding as that. We
were just returning from a walk,
headed east towards our house. The southern meadows
gradually started to glisten with
pink highlights, so we turned around to face the west,
expecting some good color.
Holy cats! The entire western sky was ablaze with
reflected flame. A huge whale-shaped
cloud was fiery red, and the brilliant robin’s-egg
blue sky was a perfect backdrop for the
aggressive snakes of orange and magenta that streamed
away from the mass. Bright pink
wisps of softer cloud were performing an airy ballet in
triple time, looking for all the world
like the time-lapse photos of clouds made popular by Walt
Disney in his travelogues of the
‘50’s. The entire western sky was alive with
swarms of vivid clouds of all shapes and size,
and the rest of the celestial dome echoed the show on the
main stage. This wonder-full sight
lasted for a half hour, then started to dim. Just before
the sun finally set, the largest cloud
broke apart into dozens of swiftly streaming offspring,
and the color intensified once again
before the purple hour descended. Not to be outdone, the
moon began a slow ascent
above the Adirondack Mountains an hour after sunset, huge
and blood red. It crept
majestically above the horizon, reflecting the same
intense hues that the sun had left behind
earlier. Time stood still here on the Hill as we watched
these two heavenly bodies come and go.
It is a true blessing to live in a place where the
commonplace can often
transform into something breathtakingly beautiful.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 8, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
9 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
A thin glaze of ice covers every surface as a result of
yesterday morning’s
snow/rain mix. Everything is very shiny. The hook on the
dog run was frozen
shut, and it took longer than usual for the warmth of my
hands to work it free.
Our yard is covered in little ruts made by some small
creature, dashing about in
a erratic path, and even disappearing under the snow to
make little serpentine
eskers across the yard. It tried several times to get
into the woodshed, but our
new entry door is critterproof. When yesterday’s
storm clouds finally made up
their mind, they released three inches of nice fluffy
snow, which was then blown
clean away by high winds. Even if we could have caught
our breath in the gale,
frozen hardpack kept us off of our cross country skis.
Fortunately, another two
inches came down last night after the wind settled, and
today should be perfect
sliding. The overnight low temperature was six below
zero, and it has already
warmed up pretty good with the late winter sun. It is
easy to forget to use
sunscreen when the weather is this cold; remember that
the sun’s rays are
just as strong now as they are in October. Factor in the
reflection from the snow,
and you could do some pretty good skin damage on a sunny
winter day like this.
Protect your skin, and enjoy the day!
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 7, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
27
degrees, breezy, overcast, light flurries
This
morning may be a little on the dull side, but so far it
is a much
nicer day than yesterday. A wintry mix of rain, sleet,
snow, and graupple
made traveling very treacherous indeed. Our school
finally closed after flirting
with a two hour delay for a while. I had a nine o’clock
appointment in Boonville,
and the secondary roads were not plowed; it was an
exciting trip down our steep
hill in six inches of slippery stuff. The upper road had
been plowed, but was quickly
covered in sleet. A pickup truck pulled out in front of
me (never saw me coming)
and drove about twenty miles per hour, swerving and
fishtailing. When there was
finally a break in the traffic, I carefully passed it,
and saw the reason for the erratic
movement. The driver was peering through a hole in the
icy windshield about the
size of a Reader’s Digest. Good grief! Seems like we
can take all the care we want
on wintry roads; it just takes one knucklehead like that
to put all who follow in jeopardy.
We must stay on our toes, and watch out for the other guy.
Especially if the other guy is
an idiot... For a while yesterday afternoon the rain and
mist gathered on the trees,
coating every branch and twig and turning our ordinary
woodlot into a magical crystal
forest. Sometime during the night all that ice
disappeared, along with the rest of the snow
and ice on the roof, which slid off with a reverberating whoosh.
It has just started to
snow softly, adding what I hope will be a good layer of
snow to the frozen hardpack.
Mild temperatures and a little fresh snow should make
perfect cross country ski conditions for the weekend.
Get out and do something fun today,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 6, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
18 degrees, windy, flurries
Three crows
circle the house on this grey morning.
Our little flock of blackbirds now numbers ten, and they
are doing their darndest
to brighten the immediate area with beautiful melodies.
There must be a heck of a
storm on the way, as all schools south of here have been
closed and our own district
school is on a two hour delay. So far only two inches of
snow have fallen, starting
sometime after midnight. The moon was brilliant and huge
behind big cloud banks
in the early part of the night. Yesterday was absolutely
beautiful, and as we walked
in the morning along a nearby snowmobile trail we noticed
that more birds are active
on the Hill as the temperature has come up. A flock of
snow buntings took off as we
approached, looking like a flurry of black leaves, only
their wings visible, white bodies
camouflaged against the snow. As we walked between tall
balsams, spruce,
and bare-branched maple trees, chickadees flitted among
them and kept pace with us,
scolding as they flew. Small rosy pine grosbeaks flew
across the trail by an apple orchard,
and several crows were on a noisy patrol. We also saw a
porcupine trail heading in and
out of an abandoned barn, pigeon-toed and partly erased
by the dragging spiky tail.
These are small indications that Old Man Winter has
turned the corner and is heading
toward spring. Without a doubt he will hang around for
several more weeks, but look
for little reminders that the season of rebirth and
renewal is near. Although it may be
hard to do while being pelted with sleet and snow, try
putting some spring in your step today.
Take care on the roads,
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 5, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
12
degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Multiple bands of dense cloud
follow the Black River Valley and I’ll bet today’s
sunrise was fabulous. I was still asleep at that hour.
Last night’s near-full moon kept me
wide awake, and what little sleep I finally got was
filled with hair-raising lucid dreams.
I spent a lot of time gazing out the window at the bright
winter landscape; long shadows
reached across the snowfields with the clarity of a
monochromatic noontime. It was a
very windy night, and big clouds scurried across the
luminous sky and created eerie moving
shapes on glistening surfaces. Even our dog was restless,
moving from room to room and
barking twice at nothing. (Or something...) When I
finally awoke a few minutes ago, he
was curled up under the quilts snuggled next to me, a
fluffy little ball of snoring fur. What is
it in our primeval inner beings that reacts so strongly
to the pull of the moon and the howl
of a restless wind ? In our deepest tribal memory are we
watchfully waiting for predators
that prowl under cover of the wind’s roar and the
light of Sister Moon ? Cave bears,
saber-toothed cats, cannibal neighbors, jackals, and
other things barely remembered by
our DNA... As I go about my day’s work I expect to
run into many other folks who also
got a fitful night’s sleep. The moon will be truly
full tomorrow night, but will likely be hidden
behind a wall of snow or freezing rain. The town road
crew is hard at work this morning pushing
the tall snowbanks back and clearing snow away from
buried culverts in preparation
for another anything-can-happen storm.
Take care,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 4, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
21 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy, intermittent flurries
Several holes have opened up in the clouds allowing
peeks of pale blue.
Billowy skyshapes are constantly shifting in the wind,
and it seems like the weather
will take its time deciding what to do for the remainder
of the day. Over a foot of dense,
heavy snow fell in yesterday’s storm. We were moving
firewood from the barn to the
woodshed as the first hard little balls of graupple fell;
they bounced off of smooth birch
and got stuck in the grooves of ash and maple bark. The
wind picked up, so I wisely
offered to stack in the woodshed, giving up the job of
unloading the truck and getting
pelted in the face with stinging tiny snowballs. Fat
flakes soon started to fall, and kept
on coming down steadily until the storm ended around
midnight. I had a job in Boonville
late in the day, and drove out of the snowfall, but it
drifted on down to meet me for the
ride home. I followed a snowplow up Route 12D, but it
turned off to go to Lyons Falls,
leaving me with four miles of unplowed road to navigate
in the dark. It was hard to tell
where the falling snow stopped and the road began, but I
drove slowly and finally got
to the bottom of Gomer Hill. This put my little car to
the test; no plow in sight and six
inches of wet greasy snow in the road. One vehicle had
been up the road before me,
so I tried to stay in those tracks. No problem! I was
amazed at the ease with which
that good old car climbed the hill. More of the same is
headed our way for Friday,
so push those banks as far back in the yard as you can.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 3, 2004, 7:45 a.m.
19 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The early morning sky was brilliant with blue, red,
orange, pink, purple,
and all the colors in between. As sunrise drew closer,
bright hues dwindled into
pastel shadows of their former selves. A pale copper sun
rose through a sea of muted
cloud layers, and now there is no afterglow at all. What
started out as a few clouds is
now a sea of white and grey moving in to hide the sunny
beams that brighten our view
from the top of Gomer Hill. Yesterday was an outstanding
day in every way. We had a
much-needed walk with the dog, who kept leaping up onto
high snowbanks, sniffing all
the good smells brought out by the warm sun. We walked
quite a way up the snowmobile
trail, and saw many places where sledders had left the
groomed trail over the weekend and
gotten mired in deep snow. I remember a scene across from
our kitchen window years ago:
a few dozen outlaws decided to take a short cut across
our field from the trail to our (closed)
road. After riding around several “No Snowmobile”
signs, they headed through the meadow
and prepared to ride down the bank into the road. There
had just been a few feet of very
light snow, and it was early in the winter. What these
riders didn’t know about was the deep
drainage ditch between the field and our road, blown over
with powdery fluff that concealed
running water underneath. We watched them drop out of
sight one after the other, like ducks
in a shooting gallery. Several sleds were buried before
those following figured out what was
happening, and it took those unlucky riders all
afternoon to haul their sleds out of the ditch.
The reasons for staying on the trail aren’t
arbitrary; they are rules-of-thumb that help keep
lucky riders from encountering hidden obstacles.
How do you know there isn’t a disc harrow
buried under the freshly fallen snow in a farm field? It
would certainly be unlucky to hit that
hunk of iron at ninety miles and hour. We are expecting
some snow mixed with sleet for later
today, so it would be a good idea to get the outdoor
chores finished before lunchtime.
Enjoy the last fleeting rays of sun before they disappear
into the teeth of another wintry mix.
We often create our own luck...
Daisy
~
Monday, February 2, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
19 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Bright
sunshine sparkles on multifaceted crystals of snow that
cover the land.
Pencil-thin bands of clouds stripe the western sky, and
one very faint whisper of
mist hovers over the Black River Valley. Today is
Groundhog Day, obviously invented
somewhere that doesn’t get 200 inches of annual
snowfall. What groundhog in his right
mind would burrow up through all this snow just to
satisfy some superstitious pundit ?
February second is also Candlemas Day.
If Candlemas Day be fair and bright, Winter
will have another flight;
If on Candlemas Day be shower and rain, Winter is gone
and will not come again.
I can pretty much guarantee that winter is not over,
rain or shine. Speaking of that
four-letter word, we may see some tomorrow mixed with
sleet and snow. Today
will be a wonderful day to get out and play a little.
Yesterday was perfect too, and we
journeyed south a bit to ski on the freshly groomed B.R.E.I.A.
trails at Jackson Hill.
We followed the easier loops on the north side of the
road, saving the trickier downhill
sections of the eastern slopes for another day. Big
clumps of snow adhered to every
tree, and some giant snowballs looked like they were
ready to drop on unsuspecting
skiers as they passed underneath. We were lucky, but
there were many divots and
sinkholes on both sides of the trail caused by a
combination of snow and gravity.
Random deer tracks were few, but a well-worn deer trail
made a furrow a foot
deep that crossed the trail twice. I have to work indoors
all afternoon today,
but there is plenty of time to get outside this morning.
I think it is finally warm enough that my little dog will
enjoy a romp with me.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 1, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
5
degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
What a
beautiful morning !
This first day of February burst onto the scene with a
glorious sunrise;
just a few wispy puffs of cloud are drifting slowly
across the bluebird sky.
I must admit, I am happy January is over. I know the
headings on a calendar
have nothing to do with weather patterns, but doesn’t
it seem like January 2004
was colder, windier, and unfriendlier to living creatures
than any in our recent past ?
At the very least a clean page on the wall calendar
signals a fresh start to many things,
including (we can hope) the weather. It is a good day to
plan the upcoming vegetable
garden; go through seeds left from last year and get the
new seed orders ready to go
in tomorrow’s mail. We like to try something
different every summer; maybe just a
new variety of tomato, or possibly a vegetable we have
never grown before. Last
summer we grew brussels sprouts for the first time. Every
time I pop those frozen little
stinky green balls into the steamer, I am reminded that
we are never too old to try new
things. I had never even eaten one until last autumn; my
husband was raised with a variety
of vegetable choices, but in my midwestern suburban home
we stuck with non-smelly
things like peas (canned) and beans (frozen). Fresh corn
from a country farm stand
occasionally graced the summer table, and a few carrots
would get thrown in with the
potroast, but by and large it was a meat-and-potatoes
kind of cuisine common to that
era. Imagine my delight when I cooked and savored my
first sautéed cabbage, or broccoli
with gorgonzola cheese, or garlic fried parsnips! I never
had shallots either until a friend
brought us a lovely braided bunch; beautiful lavender
bulblets definitely classified as
odoriferous, but just the right blend of garlicky-onion
flavor in a cream sauce or soup.
Put something new on your plate,
Daisy
~
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