~
Friday, February 29, 2008 8:30 a.m.
16 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Tiny frosted flakes clung to every twig when we first
arose,
left as if by magic to sparkle in the first slanted rays
of the rising sun.
Now the breeze has kicked in, and they are abandoning
their posts in
clumps, pebbling the previously smooth surface of the new
snow like
holiday cookie sanding-sugar. The strong late winter sun
has increased
the temperature by twenty degrees already from an
overnight low of
minus six. I set a pot of chili in the woodshed to cool
after dinner and
forgot to bring it inside; now it is frozen solid. The
east meadow is
crisscrossed with deer trails, the first I have seen
there in weeks.
One set of tracks comes right up to the house, as if the
deer
looked in our dining room window to check out the good
life.
I, for one, am happy to be on this side of the triple
glazing on a
bitter night, where I can admire the myriad stars from
comfort
and safety. I will be away from my computer tomorrow,
but back later Sunday.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 28, 2008 8:00 a.m.
3 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
It’s a good thing the wind isn’t blowing,
because it’s cold
enough all on its own without adding the element of wind-chill
to the mix. We had an uneventful trip to Utica yesterday,
and won-
dered why schools were cancelled down that way. Roads
were merely
wet, visibility was good, and the wind picked up a little
now and then but
there was not one whiteout either coming or going.
Perhaps they had trouble
clearing the secondary roads. We noticed tons of birds in
large flocks, crows,
pigeons, starlings, and grosbeaks all along the route,
gathering together to move
north at the first sign of a thaw. On a frigid morn such
as this it is hard to imagine
that spring is around the corner, but it is nearly March,
the month when bluebirds
check out possible nesting sights. The ice on ponds and
creeks has had several
chances to disintegrate the past few weeks, and I would
be wary of venturing
out too far on such a fragile surface. On our way home
yesterday we passed
a snowmobile wreck in a farm field (not a trail) where
the rider had broken
through the ice of a drainage ditch and been thrown from
his sled as its skis
hit the frozen bank. I imagine if s/he had stayed on a
designated trail this
would not have happened. A couple of weeks ago a sledder
did some-
thing similar here on Tug Hill, but the sled flipped over
on top of him;
he was pinned under the water and would have died if a
passerby
hadn’t hauled the machine off of him and pulled him
to safety.
There are lots of reasons to ride on official trails and
not
trespass on private property. Just a reminder...
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 27, 2008 6:30 a.m.
15 degrees, overcast, breezy, flurries
Occasional spits of snow are all that remain of
yesterday’s
humungous front. We received about six inches of new wet
snow all in all, and I managed to make it to work with no
problem.
Coming back from Boonville was a little trickier, as it
was dark and
the roads hadn’t been plowed from town to
Potter’s Corners. Fortunately
there were virtually no other vehicles on the road, and
no deer crazy enough
to challenge me. We have business in Utica this morning,
and hopefully the
state plows will have cleared route 12 by the time we get
on the road. As
the wind picks up, there may be areas of whiteout;
already there are little
snow-devils twirling up out of the meadow. I am confident
in my car’s
ability to go through just about any wintry conditions,
but there are a
lot of idiots on the road during bad weather who drive
too fast, tailgate,
and neglect to turn on their headlights. I heard crows in
the sleepy hour
before dawn this morning; they sounded agitated about
something. I
hope to return home early enough to explore the perimeter
of our
property and look for tracks and other animal signs;
perhaps
the crows themselves will show me where to look.
Have an interesting day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 26, 2008 8:30 a.m.
26 degrees, calm, overcast, snowing
Pinpoints of snow fall straight down, their tiny size
belying their ability
to accumulate quickly. Already two inches of new snow
cover the earth
here on Gomer Hill, with much more on the way over the
next couple of days.
A large front that extends from Indiana all the way to
the Adirondacks carries
both rain and snow, but it will surely be all snow up
here. The evergreens in
our yard that had lost most of their snow are beginning
to load their needles
up once again, only to be scattered in a swift powdery
bluster as doves fly
in and out of the sheltering boughs. The only other birds
in the morning view
are crows, which have been hanging close to the house for
several days. They
were creating quite a ruckus well after dark last night,
close by as I took the dog
out for his bedtime stroll. perhaps they were having a
little political caw-caws of
their own. We had a long walk yesterday morning, and
followed the footprints
of a fox for about a mile; they were pressed into the
soft snow at the side of
the road and followed pretty much a straight line before
disappearing over
the bank into the headwaters of a branch of Mill Creek. I
had at first thought
the trail was left by a feral cat until I noticed two
faint claw marks at the leading
edges of most of the prints. Here is a cool page with
details of the differences
between cat and dog tracks: bear-tracker.com/caninevsfeline.html
. Because
foxes hunt in a straight line like cats do, it is easy to
confuse the two kinds of
tracks, especially in winter when foxes have more hair on
their pads which
could obscure the claw marks. This fresh snow will make a
clean palette
for all of the wild critters to leave their marks upon,
and when the sun
returns it will be fun to see what has been out and about
besides us.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, February 25, 2008 8:30 a.m.
25 degrees, calm, partly sunny
High thin clouds filter the soft sunlight that makes for
very vague
shadows on the surface of the snow. This is what skiers
call flat light,
for it is very hard to make out how steep a slope is
until gravity lends an
interpretive hand. After four straight days of excellent
cross-country skiing,
I believe I will cross-train a bit and take the dog for a
walk this morning. Yes-
terday’s outing was along much of the same route as
Saturday’s; in fact, we
found a friend’s scarf snagged on a thorn tree that
we had ducked under while
crossing a fence. Conditions were perfect, with none of
the slow sticky patches
we had previously encountered. We took a left turn from
our old path and enter-
ed the pine plantation from the edge, gliding through the
tall straight timber to meet
an old logging road, with our destination the Mill Creek
Trail of the Carpenter Road
State Trail System. The creek crossing offered only one
option, thanks to the rain-
storm of a week ago; where before there had been dozens
of broad snow bridges,
now there is a series of deep gurgling troughs and
gullies eroded into the snow,
with a broad shallow frozen pond our only way across.
Thank goodness we
have had some frigid temps since that rainfall; the ice
held. Mill Creek is run-
ning fairly free and is still one of the prettiest sights
I have ever seen when
viewed from atop the steep shale bank. We saw many animal
tracks,
rabbit, squirrel, porcupine, partridge, deer, and weasel,
although we
never got a glimpse of the critters who left them. A big
flock of crows
escorted us for part of the trek, for a change following
me instead of
vice-versa. We ended our adventure with a zippy glide
down a hay-
field hill, right into the peachy tones of a lowering sun;
what a joy !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 24, 2008 8:00 a.m.
21 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Gomer Hill is ringed by soft layers of cloud at every
horizon,
some still faintly tinged mauve, remnants of a
spectacular sunrise.
Yesterday’s fog ice has disappeared; in its place
are long slender
icicles hung from the tips of our spruce and balsam trees,
formed
from the graceful shelves of snow on the boughs that
slowly melted
in the warm sun. Crows were up before the sun, and are
still creating
a ruckus in the hedgerow by the east meadow. Who knows
what has
set them off; perhaps the cougar that has recently been
spotted further
up the road is lurking nearby. Maybe they signal the
return of deer to the
Hill, and it is a call to breakfast. We startled two deer
deep in the forest
while on yesterday’s ski outing, and there are
several new routes that have
been embedded in the snow. We also saw a couple of
porcupine trails, and
followed one to a hollow dead tree; we wanted it to peek
out, but it stayed
hidden from view. I haven’t seen any big cat tracks
at all this winter, not bob-
cat, lynx, or cougar, but it still gives me a shiver to
think that any of them could
be watching me from high atop a tree, stretched out in
languor like a Serengeti
leopard. We saw no sign of smaller mammals, which was
surprising. The squir-
rels and other little critters must be comfy in their
winter dens, munching on the
nuts and seeds they stored last autumn. We had scads of
fun on our ski trip,
even though the high moisture content of underlying snow
made for a rather
slow glide; as the sun grew stronger the snow became a
little gluey, especial-
ly in the meadows. Still, it was a treat to be out under
the true blue sky
of late winter, with sparkling pristine snow all around.
Nothing better !
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 23, 2008 8:00 a.m.
21 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Tug Hill was enrobed in thick fog earlier this morning,
and now we are surrounded by a fairyland of fog ice
coating
every outdoor surface. Even the old clothesline twinkles
like Liberace’s
dinner jacket. It looks like flatlanders haven’t had
a peek at the sun yet
today, which makes our isolated view of our sparkling
paradise all the
more special. A veritable sea of fog fills the valley
below; I can barely
make out the neighbor’s rooftop 300 yards down the
road. A flock of
crows emerged from the mist with all the quiet drama of a
Hollywood
splatter film, foreshadowing the instant that a chainsaw-wielding
vampire
sneaks up behind an unsuspecting high school couple
necking in a Vista
Cruiser. Eeeeeek! Meanwhile, back in the real world, the
crows sit
preening in our border trees, still holding their tongues
and blending
into the foggy view, perhaps waiting for deer to cross
the road so
they can feast on their droppings. What a gorgeous
morning !
Get out and enjoy your view,
wherever you are,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 22,
2008 9:00 a.m.
16 degrees, calm, high clouds, snowing
Snow is falling in a slow mosey, directionless on this
rare calm morning.
Flakes are small and sit in a dense layer atop the plowed
yard, about two
new inches of slick sugar snow. The rainstorm
earlier this week is a mere
memory, wiped out by a daily dose of powder, and cross-country
skiing
has been just about perfect. A glide through the deep
woods across the
road revealed an old but well-used deer trail that
follows the edge of the
Horsey Creek gorge, with three beds melted into the snow
along the path,
covered now with several inches of fresh snow. There was
a meandering
pair of coyote tracks and a couple of squirrel trails
linking the spruces. A
few woodpeckers swooped through the trees, and a
chickadee followed
me around for a while before disappearing into an alder
thicket. I have seen
no deer on the Hill for quite a while. On the way home
from work late in the
afternoon I saw a dozen or more gleaning bits of hay in
the farm field at the
bottom of Gomer Hill Road, leftovers from where several
big round bales
had been stored until yesterday. Must be they followed
the gorge down
and have been feeding there, easier pickin’s than
what is available in the
woods lately. The ground on Tug Hill has so many layers
of ice that it
must be next to impossible to paw through to any shoots
or roots, and
tree buds have all been nibbled to within an inch of
their lives. This win-
ter will be a real test for natural selection, as only
the strongest of deer will
be able to survive until the thaw. When I think of the
hardships the wild crea-
tures have to endure in the North Country, it makes me
even more grateful
for the endless choices we have for food: chicken or fish,
green beans or
broccoli, potatoes or rice, and water flows fresh and
pure at the turn of
a knob. Take a moment to thank your Higher Power for the
countless
bounties you enjoy, the warmth of a cozy bed, indoor
plumbing...
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
And hey, another dead president (just not the right one
IMO) to enjoy today:
Ten Things You Never Knew about George Washington,
born on this day in 1732:
His dentures carved from a
hippopotamus tusk. They were drilled with a hole
to fit over Washington's one remaining tooth, and
they rubbed against his natural tooth in such a
way
that Washington was in constant pain, and so he
used an alcoholic solution infused with opium.
By the time he reached 30,
he had survived malaria, smallpox, pleurisy,
dysentery.
He was fired at on two separate occasions —
and in one of them, his horse was shot
out from under him and four bullets punctured his
coat. He also fell off a raft into an
icy river and nearly drowned.
During the last night of
his life, a doctor friend came over to perform an
emergency
tracheotomy on Washington. Arriving too late, the
doctor tried to resurrect Washington
by thawing him in cold water, then wrapping him
in blankets and rubbing him in order
to activate blood vessels, then opening his
trachea to inflate his lungs with air, and
then transfusing blood from a lamb into him.
He enjoyed playing cards,
hunting foxes and ducks, fishing, cockfighting,
horse racing,
boat racing, and dancing. He bred hound dogs and
gave them names like "Sweet Lips"
and "Tarter."
His favorite foods
included mashed potatoes with coconut, string
beans with mushrooms,
cream of peanut soup, salt cod, and pineapples.
He snored very loudly.
He did not wear a powdered
wig, as was fashionable at the time. Instead,
he powdered his own red-brown hair.
Washington had a speech
impediment and was not good at spelling.
He would often mix up i's and e's when speaking
and in writing.
There are 33 counties,
seven mountains, nine colleges,
and 121 post offices named after Washington.
He delivered the shortest
inaugural address ever.
It was only 133 words long and took 90 seconds to
deliver.
Thursday,
February 21, 2008 9:00 a.m.
17 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
We had a very chilly night, with minus five the
low temp.
It’s a good thing we had a perfect view of
the eclipse from
indoors. We never saw the moon 100% obscured by
earth’s
shadow; there was always a hazy red slice peeking
at us, even
when totality was supposed to be occurring. After
the event was
over, the light of the full moon shining on the
snow was so bright
we toyed with the idea of taking a little ski
trip around the meadows,
since we were already awake. Then I saw that it
was –3 degrees, so
that notion was nipped in the bud. Both alpine
and cross-country skiing
were greatly improved by Wednesday’s
snowfall. There has been so much
snow that barbed wire fences are not an obstacle,
and we could probably
ski from here to Lowville if we had the time.
Deer remain in hiding, except
for one that scampered in front of my car in the
middle of Turin yesterday;
thank goodness for good brakes and grippy winter
tires. Crows were
on the move all afternoon, and following them is
a wonderful way to
spend an hour on a perfect late winter day.
Flurries were in the air
for most of the day, but little was added in the
way of real depth.
The dirty snowbanks have been freshened, and our
view
is once again clean and white. I just love winter
!
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 20, 2008 9:00 a.m.
16 degrees, windy, partly sunny, snowing
We were right at the southern edge of a lake
effect storm front
for most of yesterday, and the snow did blow, in
one side of the
yard and out the other. When I left to go to work
mid-afternoon,
I turned right at the four corners in Turin and
left it all behind. Boon-
ville was sunny and fairly warm, with a gentle
breeze fluttering the big
flag in the center of town. I had left Tug Hill,
where a 40 mph gust literally
pushed me down the icy yard like a skiless kite-skier,
and entered a town
where the worst I had to do was walk around a
lake of slush in the parking
lot. Altitude plus latitude equals winter when
the flatlanders are wearing their
spring jackets and looking north, wondering what
that big cloud is doing stal-
led out over Snow Ridge. Snowfall increased after
I returned home, and dense
windblown powder started to pile up in the yard,
coming to a screeching halt at
the snowbank and building from there. My best
guess is that we have received
between four and six inches of snow so far, and
we currently sit at the eastern-
most edge of another lake effect band; it is
literally knocking at our door.
Anything could happen today, and I will likely
watch it all from in-
doors, as the wind makes it pretty raw out there.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 19, 2008 8:00 a.m.
20 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
We awoke to a thick swirl of flurries that never
had a chance to
light on the ground; the wind blew it all away.
Now the sun is blindingly
bright, reflecting from the frozen mess that
recent rain haphazardly sculpted.
Sunday’s ski tracks that circumnavigate the
meadow stand out in bas-relief,
proof that at least one living being has
traversed the property. Yesterday I con-
tinued to look for animal signs in the snow as we
walked along the plowed road,
and saw only one set of deer tracks as they
crossed the road near low points in
the high banks. There haven’t even been any
cat or mouse prints in the snow that
has blown into the barn through cracks in the old
weathered boards. I don’t expect
to see much wildlife today, as the wind is fierce,
filled with moisture and bitingly cold.
Our dog wouldn’t venture past the end of the
driveway with me this morning, he just
parked it and looked back at the woodshed door
with longing; it was a very short
walk. With all this bluster of a typical February
day, still there are small signals that
spring is not far. Ladybugs have been showing up
in odd places... not just in the win-
dow casings, but on the shower floor, crawling
across the dining room tablecloth,
and one even perched on top of the toothbrush
holder. These harbingers of spring
can be pestilent in large numbers, but kind of
charming when seen one at a time.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Monday, February 18, 2008 7:00 a.m.
42 degrees, windy, cloudy, rain
Our overnight high was 47 degrees, and now that
the temperature has started
to drop we should see this rain change over to
snow later in the day. Our pristine
white landscape has been washed away to reveal a
coating of road sand that was
flung far and wide by the snowblower last week,
and our sparkly vista has become
soggy and dirty. Wisps of ground fog waft along
on the breeze, like special fx for some
big hair band from the ‘80s. The yard is
once again a slippery trap waiting for one false
step; we have scattered more sand this winter
than any other in recent memory. Last
night’s sleep was interrupted several times
by the sound of wet heavy snow sliding
from the tin roof; thank you Mother Nature for
relieving us of that arduous chore !
If I can make it to the road without breaking a
hip, it looks like a good morning
to take the dog for a walk before it gets too
cold. I heard some crows earlier;
perhaps they will come along and keep us company.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 17, 2008 10:00 a.m.
26 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
Clouds have been moving in from the southwest all
morning,
and the air smells a little like springtime. I
just returned form a short
ski trip around the meadows, which sounds like an
easy outing until you
consider the size of the snowbanks that must be
climbed to access anything
off-road. I am baffled by the lack of animal
tracks, both on this morning’s trip
as well as yesterday afternoon’s ramble
through the swamps and toolie bushes
of Gomer Hill. I saw some old coyote and rabbit
tracks, but no deer, small ro-
dent, bird, cat, or weasel family signs. Even
around the open water of the marshy
seeps and streams there were no tracks except for
the long stuttering paths of run-
away snowballs rolling down the steep banks. I
surprised a brace of partridge who
exploded from the snow one right after the other,
always an occasion for me to
scream like a girl. I had just about given up
seeing any more wildlife when the lo-
cal gang of pine grosbeaks swooped down from atop
(of all things) a pine tree.
They looked fat and happy, and circled me a
couple of times before flapping off
deeper into the woods. Yesterday’s trip was
the kind I like best, a directionless
wander more than an actual journey, with no
endpoint in mind and several miles
covered all within a short space, my ski tracks
frequently crossing each other as
I roamed. I found a great little downhill run in
our woods, and climbed up to ride
down a half dozen times, just for the fun of it.
I often enjoy skiing to a particular
destination, zipping along and setting new time
records for a familiar trail, but
the aimless ramble is still my favorite style of
back-country skiing. If I set
out with no plan in mind, then there are no plans
to live up to,
which is (in the long run) a great plan !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 16, 2008 9:00 a.m.
14 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Sparkling snow greeted us at first light,
gleaming with pink highlights,
optical echoes of a colorful dawn. Strong gusty
winds yesterday afternoon
created countless ripples on the surface of new
sugar snow, a little like a flat
sandy beach at low tide. The air temperature
certainly is not beach-like, although
the absence of any breeze compelled me to take a
walk as far as Horsey Creek
after breakfast. On one side of the road, the
water is seen as a thin trickle peeking
out from between huge banks of snow. On the gorge
side, the water is long gone
under drifts that reach from one tall bank to the
other, with just a small depression
to indicate the stream below. I may ski back to
the balsam swamp later to see if I
can catch sign of any minks who live in the area.
Our east meadow is still free of
deer tracks, which is odd for this time of year.
Must be they have found a cozy
old orchard to bed down in, with tender branch
tips all around free for the nib-
bling. It looks like the weather will get a
little sketchy tomorrow afternoon, so
any outdoor fun to be had must be crammed into
the next 30 hours or so.
I can handle that...
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 15, 2008 8:30 a.m.
27 degrees, breezy, overcast, snowing
Snow is zipping past the window, at times pretty
heavy.
Yesterday’s pristine meadows have been
messed up by dirty
snow thrown asunder by the town snowblower as it
cut back the
tall roadside banks. New snow will naturally hide
the sand and gravel
that currently rules the view. The layers of snow
in the cut tell the story
of the season’s many rainy intervals, with
strata of ice appearing nearly black,
the whole topped with a thick layer of fresh snow
form last weekend. It looks
a little like a wintry lasagna, fat free and full
of frosty goodness. Yesterday we
skied through the pine plantation up the road to
the state-owned Mill Creek
Trail. After the 2+ feet of snow we received
during the past week, I had an-
ticipated that we would have a tough time
breaking trail, but we only sank in
about three inches. The glide was phenomenal and
the kick just right, our wax
was perfect; before you knew it we had laid down
some fabulous tracks for the
return trip. We saw very little in the way of
animal signs, mostly small rodents
leaping prints, probably red squirrels. Deer must
be yarded up somewhere un-
til the going gets good. Mill Creek still has
lots of open water, but we crossed
it easily on one of the many natural snow bridges
that has formed. Heaps of new
snow with icicle fringe adorn the cliff-framed
banks, and there are several places
on the trail where the view of the creek below is
jaw-droppingly stunning. No
one had been on the state trails yet, but I
imagine they will see some heavy traf-
fic this weekend. Cross-country skiing is
considered to be one of the most ef-
fective sports for maintaining cardiovascular
health; plus, it is great fun !
Get out and have some fun your own self,
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 14, 2008 9:00 a.m.
22 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Fresh snow unbroken by any tracks shimmers
blindingly under
the late winter sun. No jeweler could ever
fabricate the sparkle
and gleam that is spread out far as the eye can
see; even the most
adept Be-dazzler would fall short at duplicating
this. I doubt that a
camera could capture the radiance, so we will
have to commit this
beguiling scene to the mind’s eye for future
enjoyment. I haven’t
seen any deer or birds yet this morning; could be
they are still re-
cuperating from Tuesday night’s storm. We
had a combination of
sleet, grauple, and snow that resulted in five
inches of interesting
sugary-textured mix; the wind drove it into every
nook and cranny
it could find, and I am still finding pockets of
it in our woodshed.
Yesterday was a fine cold day filled with gentle
flurries, and the
alpine skiing at Snow Ridge was pretty darned
good. We are
planning to head into the woods for a bit to see
if we can
see signs of wildlife under the protection of
dense trees.
It is a great day for just about anything,
indoors or out.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 13, 2008 Tearing Down To Rebuild :
Rethinking
Complaining
We all
know someone who has elevated the process of
complaining to a high art. Sometimes funny,
sometimes exhausting, these people have the
ability to find a problem just about anywhere. In
its more
evolved form, complaining is simply the ability
to see what’s not working, in one’s own
life or in the
external world, and it can be quite useful if
followed to its natural conclusion—finding a
solution and
applying it. However, many of us don’t get
that far, and we find that complaining has become
an
end in itself. In small doses, this is not a big
problem, but if complaining has become a huge
part
of our identities, it may be time to take a good
look at how we are spending our energy.
-
Complaining is a person’s way of
acknowledging that they are not happy with the
way things are.
In a metaphorical way, when we complain or
criticize, we are tearing down an undesirable
structure
in order to make room for something new. But if
all we do is tear down, never bothering to summon
the creative energy required to create something
new, we are not fulfilling the process. In fact,
we are
at risk for becoming a stagnant and destructive
force in our own lives and in the lives of the
people
we love. Another issue with complaining is that
we sometimes tend to focus on other people, whom
we can’t change, as a way of deflecting
attention from the one person we can
change—ourselves.
So transforming complaining into something useful
is a twofold process that begins with turning our
critical eye to look at things we can actually do
something about, and then taking positive action.
-
When we find ourselves complaining, the last
thing we need to do is get down on ourselves.
Instead,
we can begin by noticing that we are in the mode
of wanting to make some changes. But rather than
lashing out at somebody or an organization, we
can look for an appropriate place to channel this
energy—not our neighbor’s house, but
possibly parts of our own. Finally, we can ask
ourselves
the positive question of what we would like to
create in the place of whatever it is we want
to tear down. When we do this, we channel a
negative habit into a creative process,
thus using our energy to change the world around
us in a positive way.
To subscribe to Daily Om,
click this link
~
Tuesday, February 12, 2008 8:15 a.m.
1 degree, calm, mostly sunny
The temperature dipped below zero last night, and
already the bright sun
has warmed thing up by nearly ten degrees. Thank
goodness the wind is absent.
My starling is back, sitting in the big maple
tree merely whistling softly, no concert
this morning, just a small tune to let me know it
was up there. Five or six mourning
doves have been hanging out in our spruce trees
for the past week or so, sheltering
from the storms and probably feasting on the
cones as well. Evergreens all over the
hill were loaded with cones last fall, so there
is plenty of food for seed-eaters like
doves. They roam around the property in short
bursts and ultimately end up back
in one of the two spruce trees by the wildflower
garden. They ignore the balsam tree
for some reason. A pair of deer trudges along the
edge of the east meadow, stopping
occasionally to paw at the earth through several
layers of snow and ice. They are cur-
rently underneath a butternut tree, possibly
gleaning the last of those tough hulled nuts
that remain from a bountiful autumn crop. They
have done a thorough job of pruning
all the apple trees on the property, nibbling the
tips off of every twig that they can
reach. As I ski through nearby old orchards I
always take a minute to knock down
the apples that are too high; there were a ton of
apples last season and many still re-
main on the trees for deer and turkeys to feed
upon. As pesky as these critters are
to home gardens, it still breaks my heart to
think of how many of them die slowly
from starvation every winter, especially in years
like this one when there is severe
overpopulation of both species. There has been a
recent surge in coyote hunting
on Tug Hill, removing these natural predators of
both deer and turkeys from the
picture, allowing even the weakest members of the
herds and flocks to overwin-
ter. I am sure that this spring’s deer count
will be one of the highest on record.
(I went on a deer count with friends once, not
realizing that it was for the
purpose of counting dead carcasses of the ones
that didn’t survive the
winter. Ugh.) Meanwhile, we are gearing up for
more snow tonight,
a return to normal winter conditions here in the
North Country.
Bundle up and enjoy the day,
Daisy
~
Monday, February 11, 2008 8:15 a.m.
4 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
It is relatively calm outside this morning
compared to the wicked
weather that greeted us upon our return to Gomer
Hill late yesterday.
We ran into a brief but intense squall on the
causeway east of Rousse’s
Point in Vermont, as Lake Champlain is not
totally frozen. It was exactly
like lake effect snow from the great lakes, but
from a different source. Then
the skies cleared, and we had mostly sunny
weather all down route 11, with
fierce winds creating several whiteout conditions
for parts of the journey. When
we turned on to 812 , there were more whiteouts
and spots in the road where
drifts had started to form, but the skies were
still unbelievably blue. Just south
of Croghan a few flurries sullied the air, and by
the time we pulled into Lowville
we were beginning to wonder if we should stay
there with friends. We decided
that my car could easily navigate just about any
conditions, so we pressed on,
homeward bound. We chose to travel the upper road
(route 26) instead of
route 12, believing that there would be less
traffic. The final fifteen miles of
our journey were the hardest, with near zero
visibility for much of the way,
and eight inches of snow on the road. The only
vehicles we saw were a few
beefy trucks and jeeps, not a plowtruck in sight.
At least a half dozen cars
were off the road, and we ditched it once
ourselves but miraculously got
back onto the road with no damage. The wipers
could barely keep up
with the snowfall; I have never been out in such
a blizzard. We made a
brief stop in Turin to pick up our dog, and
motored up the hill which had
been plowed an hour earlier; four inches of fresh
snow had fallen but it was
a cakewalk and we were soon home, facing a four
foot snowbank at the end
of the driveway. We waded through hip-deep drifts
to the house, and I set about
lighting the fires while Gomer plowed the yard.
Soon we were inside watching the
storm blow itself out, and now the view has once
again changed drastically. My
best guess is that at least eighteen inches of
snow fell during the storm, although
it is hard to tell as the wind has rearranged it
into interesting shapes. There is a
big fluffy hump the size of a Volkswagen bus
outside my back window; Some
of the yard is bare, but there are several thick
drifts and it will need to be
plowed all over again. Schools are either closed
or delayed; I think they
must be just about out of snow days, and may have
to shorten spring
break if we have any more big storms like this.
It is so cold and
breezy that I haven’t even considered
playing outdoors today;
I am happy to have an indoor job to go to on days
like this.
Stay warm,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 10, 2008
"Snow-Flakes" by Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow.
Public Domain
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance
confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair.
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
~
Saturday, February 9, 2008
While most of the things I put here in my absence
are about nature,
I find this one about human nature to be
interesting and appropriate for these times.
"Reconsidering the Seven" by Peter
Pereira from
What's Written on the Body
©
Copper Canyon Press, 2007. Deadly Sins ? Please
— let's replace Pride
with Modesty, especially when it's false.
And thank goodness for Lust, without it
I wouldn't be here. Would you ?
Envy, Greed — why not ? If they lead us
to better ourselves, to Ambition.
And Gluttony, like a healthy belch, is a guest's
best response to being served a good meal.
I'll take Sloth over those busybodies
who can't sit still, watch a sunset
without yammering, or snapping a picture.
Now that makes me Wrathful.
~
Friday, February 8, 2008 8:15 a.m.
20 degrees, calm, overcast, flurries
Snowflakes so tiny as to be nearly invisible
drift weightlessly to earth,
their presence felt before they are seen. I
wonder if these little motes have
six sides like their bigger flamboyant cousins
that fell sporadically yesterday.
We finally have a day free of Travel Advisories
and doom-and-gloom weather
warnings, a good time to accomplish those
niggling little errands that have been
simmering on the back burner while the ice formed
and wild winds blew. When
the loose ends are tied up, there should still be
time for a short walk or ski trip to
follow the crows. The road is filled with birds
right now, crows, grosbeaks, and
bluejays all pecking at stuff along the
deer crossing trail. The solitary starling has
not made another appearance since Wednesday
morning, but I will look for it
now that I know it is in the neighborhood.
Perhaps it has been hanging out
among the pine grosbeaks all along and I have
never noticed it until now.
I have a family event in a neighboring state to
attend; I hope you will en-
joy the poems that will appear in this space
during the next two days.
Enjoy the weekend,
Daisy
~
Thursday, February 7, 2008 8:30 a.m.
25 degrees, calm, overcast, flurries
Flurries came and went for much of
yesterday, at times mixing with
a little rain, but around dinnertime everything
changed into big fat snowflakes,
driven sideways by a northwest wind. We turned on
the light in the back yard
and watched as ribbons of bright snow streamed in
a steady curtain, an optical
illusion both awesome and mesmerizing. We have
about four inches of new snow
on top of the old crusty glop from Tuesday night,
and best of all, some of it clings
to trees for a good old-fashioned wintry view.
Even the roadway is white, with all
of the salted sand freshly buried for now. There
is very little breeze, so our morn-
ing flurries settle slowly to earth, the ones
closest to the house rising up on currents
of warm air escaping through the cracks. There
has been some local flooding from
rain earlier this week, with a few roads closed
around the Black River. Sugar River
was rushing along yesterday, so brimful that we
couldn’t find the waterfall in Talcott-
ville, a landmark for that town; the water was
all the same level, muddy and churning
speedily along under the bridge. The creeks atop
Gomer Hill have only slightly open-
ed up, thin trickles widening to a slow-moving
gurgle, still framed by huge snowbanks
on each side. The only open area in our east
meadow is the seep below the springbox,
and that is quickly filling in with snow and will
probably freeze during tonight’s return
to temperatures in the teens. Deer and other
visitors to that little oasis had better
drink deep while the source remains liquid. Good
advice for human beings too;
just because it is cold outside doesn’t mean
we can get away with drinking
less water. Two quarts a day is good, no matter
what the season.
Salud,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, February 6, 2008 8:00 a.m.
31 degrees, breezy, overcast, flurries
Four inches of snow fell overnight and has been
saturated to capacity by
a little pre-dawn rain; the yard is a sticky mess
of gluey slush. We haven’t
plowed yet, but I’ll bet it will be a
challenge even to our mighty truck. One
solitary starling sang a little greeting to me as
I watched the dog pick his way
through the slop, and I realized this is the
first blackbird I have seen in our yard
for several months. I wonder where it has been,
and where its buddies are hanging
out ? For some reason, pine grosbeaks have taken
the place of pride in the big tree
by the barn, pretty enough but their weak
twitterings are no match for the creative
song stylings of a flock of starlings. It’s
a mystery of sorts; I have seen plenty of
blackbirds on the high wires of the flatlands as
I drive to work every day, but
they seem to be gone from our part of Tug Hill.
Blue jays, hairy woodpeckers,
crows, chickadees, and ravens have all been part
of our winter scene, and a
pair of mourning doves occasionally drops in
during stormy weather to hide
out in the spruce tree by the garden. I hope this
single blackbird is the sen-
tinel for a nearby flock that will soon be
gracing our lives again; I miss them.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, February 5, 2008 8:00 a.m.
34 degrees, breezy, overcast, foggy, raining
There was mist in the air for most of the
afternoon yesterday, and it morphed
into fullblown rain just after bedtime. Some of
the trees are still coated with ice,
but most have shed their frosty load. One of our
birch trees has a couple of broken
branches from the weight, which is a shame, as we
planted that tree when we moved
here; it is a part of our North Country life
which has grown along with us. Many of the
shrubs and trees we planted in the early days did
not survive the first couple of winters,
but our two white birch trees have grown into
mature graceful specimens. Rhododendrons,
mountain laurel, and domestic blueberries all bit
the dust, but forsythia, privet, and wild roses
have not only survived, they have spread out into
formidable thickets. A friend brought an as-
sortment of day lilies from her garden, and now
we have several beds of those hardy peren-
nials, with extras to give away to our friends up
here every year. When these shrubs and
plants are in bloom during the gentler months
they are absolutely beautiful. In the midst of
winter’s unpredictable outbursts of rain,
wind, and snow, they provide shelter for count-
less small critters and birds who wait out the
storm in their tangled branches. Every time
I gaze upon them, no matter what the season, I am
reminded of time’s passage and the
changes that are slowly shaping the view, inside
and out. We protect what we can,
and adapt when necessary to survive the
challenges of everyday living; we are
nourished and grow, and sometimes pieces break
and sometimes we are a
little scruffy around the edges. But still we
spread our arms and take in all
who need our protection from the storm, and
repair our damaged parts
with time and patience to become whole and in
bloom once again.
Take care,
Daisy
~
Monday, February 4, 2008 8:30 a.m.
29 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Yesterday’s warmer weather has had an
unusual effect on the ice-laden
objects around our house. It was apparently just
warm enough yesterday
to slowly melt some of it to reform as beautiful
sparkling pendants, more
dazzling than swarovski crystals and absolutely
free. Every twig and branch
is festooned with a myriad of teardrop-shaped icy
beads. The vehicles parked
behind the house all sport beaded skirts like a
fleet of belly dancers, amusing on
our beefy trucks; they would blush if possible.
Every pane of the garage doors
has an icy curtain, and the eaves are all strung
with icicles, some exceeding a
yard in length. The morning sun slants through
all of this spectacular decora-
tion, almost too bright to look at directly. I
will file this beautiful view in
my memory bank, as rain later will probably erase
it as completely as
if it had never been. Look around you, things are
constantly in flux;
enjoy what you can before it is gone.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, February 3, 2008 8:30 a.m.
26 degrees, calm, mostly cloudy
We have a quiet day ahead of us, maybe a few
flurries but no hard
wind or sub-zero temps are in the picture. In
fact, we are gearing up
for another brief thaw, a couple days of rain
before returning to winter.
A small patch of blue sky has appeared right next
to the sun, and a few
stray sunbeams sparkle through the frosted trees.
Yesterday I saw a small
flock of turkeys in the meadow across the road.
They emerged from the woods
looking a little haggard, and I don’t know
what they were expecting to find in the
field to eat. Even the dead weeds with their
meager load of seeds are buried under
snow, but these half dozen birds walked slowly,
head down, and occasionally peck-
ed at the icy surface. Maybe some insects had
hatched, only to be devoured in their
infancy. Yikes, it would take a whole mess of
snow fleas to fill a turkey’s gullet. Ski-
ing was awesome yesterday, good glide and
adequate grip, especially in the woods.
The meadows were a little trickier, as wind has
shifted the snowcover to the edges
and there are plenty of icy spots, but it
isn’t boilerplate hard, merely frozen snow.
I will be out of town today, enjoying the view
along the roadsides as I head
south. There is always much to appreciate, no
matter where you go.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, February 2, 2008 8:00 a.m.
24 degrees, breezy, overcast
Yesterday’s wintry mix left a quarter inch
of ice on everything it touched.
Later, fine snow clung to the ice and the overall
effect is that of a frosted fairy
kingdom that stretches from horizon to horizon.
Icicles of every size and shape
decorate roof edges; those on the north side are
bent like the letter L, whimsical re-
minders of the constant southwest wind that
accompanied the storm. We had mostly
snow on Tug Hill until after lunch, then a brief
period of horizontal sleet hissed against
the siding with a vengeance. Finally pure cold
rain pelted us, freezing onto the south
windows as soon as it struck, blooming into
little frozen pancakes of slush at first,
finally obscuring the view of the valley entirely
under a heavy glaze. We received
a couple of inches of snow after the rain gave up,
so cross country skiing should
be pretty interesting this weekend. Meanwhile,
the official national groundhog
saw its shadow this morning, which means we only
have six more weeks of
winter. As someone who has often skied well into
the month of April, I will
believe that when I see it. The first year we
lived here, we found snow in the
woods on May fifth. I have noticed the first
inklings of springtime anyway; lady-
bugs are stirring in the window frames, and a
couple of drowsy mosquitoes have
emerged from the woodshed to whine for a few
seconds before meeting their maker.
Pussy willow buds by the roadside are swollen,
ready to burst into fuzzy little catkins
on the first truly warm day. The geranium plants
on the windowsills have responded to
the increase of daylight by putting out tight
little buds that will soon be beautiful blossoms.
It is time to start new geraniums from seed; they
take a while to sprout, but they are easy
to grow once the first leaves unfold. And, just
in case we do have an early spring, I will
start some lettuce seeds in a flat to put out in
mid-April if the weather allows. I love the
turn of seasons, with the promise of spring that
every winter storm brings closer to us.
have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, February 1, 2008 8:00 a.m.
23 degrees, windy, overcast, flurries
Schools all over the north country are closed
today in anticipation
of a messy wintry mix due to arrive at any moment.
A few flurries are
in the air off and on, and the wind has picked up
considerably since I
let the dog out at dawn. The air is damp and it
feels warmer than 23
degrees, a trick of the southwest wind no doubt.
The creeks of Tug
Hill have begun to ice over once again, and
unless we get more rain
we can say goodbye to the singing waters that
make their way down
the many gorges and gullies that crisscross the
area. It looks like
February will be coming in like a lion, a month
ahead of schedule.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
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