The baby bobcat was back this morning, enjoying the sun on a cold blustery day.
The elk herd moved up the road a piece. They were gone by the time we returned.
Snow and icicles are back. The wind howled most of the day and created drifts we needed to clear.
But first we tried a little cross country skiing. The snow wasn’t quite deep enough.
Someone is getting a homemade Valentine’s Day card this year. To the one who shows me these adventures!
For some reason, the sky only glows in the west for both sunrise and sunset. Perhaps it has something to do with the mountain valley?
I’m still getting used to 8000 ft altitude. Tim wanted to hike yesterday and I had all sorts of excuses not to. But I went with him for the part of the way.
I spotted this on my walk home.
This is our backyard.
In the morning, while we drank coffee in the dining room, a young bobcat stopped by and meowed on the rock garden.
Later we saw it walk away with its mother, or perhaps father. I found their prints on my return walk.
And in the evening, we had a mushroom leek quiche.
Today, I am going to try to make scones.
We decided, just in time, that this was not our ideal gig. Just in time, because two planes were already scheduled to fly in, before the weather turned, with 12 barrels of fuel. It snowed a little the day before the planes were due.
Our replacement arrived on the first plane, and we left the next day on the second one.
He was already familiar with the property, is a big ice fisherman, and brought his own augur, ice fishing tent, and heater!
We spent 24 hours together reviewing the systems, the back up systems, and enjoying a few meals together.
Then we flew off – to what we learned is the most dangerous city in Canada: Thompson, Manitoba. The primary employer, a nickel mine, closed in 2017, which created a lot of poverty in the region. Gangs formed, drugs arrived, violent crimes occur frequently, sometimes by “machete kids”. Our replacement never left his hotel for these reasons.
But all the hotels were sold out. So we booked an overnight bus to Winnipeg. When we told the pilot we needed a place to wait until the bus station opened for our 10 pm bus, he said he would drive us and find a safe place to wait.
We did and were fine. Since it was a late night bus, many people were in “good spirits”. But there was a strict bag check policy, and for good reason.
The week before, in the same bus, two guys tried to get on with loaded guns and drugs. They escaped. Even worse, in 2009, a passenger BEHEADED another passenger! Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore. Bring back the bears !!
Our trip was uneventful except the bus had no heat and it was 20 degrees !! We survived. Luckily I was still in lots of layers.
We arrived in time for balmy autumn weather in the Adirondacks. Then we headed south to summer weather in Washington, DC to congratulate my daughter and her fiancé on their engagement.
There’s no place like home.
The view from the cabin is always lovely and especially after snow. The branches droop with snow and clouds hang low on the mountain.
It may be a sign of aging that I think of snow blowing before I consider skiing and playing in it. I cleared the cabin path then headed to the end of the driveway.
Not so bucolic. The road was plowed to the dirt, which is great, but I faced a three foot wall of snow and dirt. They don’t teach you how to gnaw through this in Snow Blowing 101.
But gnaw I did.
And now there’s a clear path and the possibility of driving out…to play? But this is already on my loom.
We were tempted into believing it was really Spring. The bees are out and about, the birds are returning, two bluebirds chose a house on the lawn.
I drove to Middlebury, Vermont to meet a friend from New Hampshire. Trees have buds but no blooms yet.
Many are shaped by the southerly winds.
And then, just like that, we got another 10 inches of snow and lots of fallen branches. Tonight, Tim coached me as I rebuilt the fire pit. Tomorrow, I’ll be wielding the chain saw. Vroom, vroom.
I wrote a paper today for my french class about Stromae, a Belgian singer-songwriter, audiovisual creator and fashion designer. Here it is for you francophones.
I discussed the dichotomies of his songs: harrowing themes with music that makes one dance.
That is what today is like. Flowers in bloom inside and perhaps the last snow squalls of the season in the mountains.
WE drove to the pool in Lake Placid today and Tim exercised in it. He finally believes he is going to be OK. Last month, one doctor scared the bejeesus out of him and painted a future filled with chronic pain.
He slid down that hole. Now this month she reports he will be fine (as did his first spinal surgeon two months ago). He’s on cloud 9 and able to deal with pain because he no longer fears it will dominate him. He thinks he needed that message. I disagree.
But now we are positive! This Christmas/Easter cactus went from good to astounding within a few days.
So hopeful. It opened itself up to the world. I considered putting it outside near my beehive!
Tim and I have been caretakers in every season and weather around the world. It’s a fabulous life. I have a chance to reflect on this today while I warm up and drink my tea. I just finished snowblowing the homestead after we received an additional 14” of snow. And I may have to do it again.
Tim had a minor procedure and was told, “no heavy lifting”.
Last year, while we were at Schoodic Institute, where our one major task was to hand shovel 20 doorways, he broke his wrist, again. And we got lots of snow….I shoveled.
Two years prior, he broke his wrist in winter…I snowblowed. He had also selected the elm trees he wanted cut down for a future project. After a quick chainsaw refresher lesson, we snowshoed into the woods.,,I chainsawed. We brought them home on a sled, where they dried until he was healed and could build our bed.
It’s becoming a blur to me. Something happened just before we ordered three cords of wood…I stacked. And something else before a hill of sand blocked the road on Deal Island…I shoveled. Maybe his timing is just right! We make the perfect team.
The fear of falling trees. I have it. I always worry about hiking when it’s windy. Hikers are killed by falling trees. Tim thinks I am ridiculous. The other day, while we were driving as a gale blew, I asked him to look up the word for the phobia. I thought it might be arborophobia, but dendrophobia is the word. We continued our drive, swam at the YMCA and headed home.
The last part of our drive is six miles along a spruce lined coastal road. While Tim was gazing off somewhere, I watched as a medium size spruce fell on the road…right in front of us!!! Moments sooner it could have been us. And that same day, a woman in another part of Maine was impaled, in her car, when a branch somehow came crashing through the dashboard. Be advised.
The past week included a trip to finally see my family, now that I am vaccinated, home to work and back to Maine. I have grown accustomed to long car trips.
I left early on a beautiful day.
I spent a few exhausting days with grandchildren then headed home to work, which was not as exhausting but not as much fun. I got home to this.
Once again I shoveled a narrow path to the house.
I took a brief look around, since I didn’t have much time to do anything. The beehive is still surrounded by snow as is my she shed bee shed that I built last summer.
I tucked it all in and headed back to Maine for the final leg of our winter care taking stint. I’ll stay in open fields when the wind blows. “Well, Jane, it just goes to show you, it’s always something — if it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Roseannadanna (Gilda Radner)
It’s cold in the northern Adirondacks, -15 degrees F this morning with about a foot of dry snow on the ground. My bee hive was prepped for this before I abandoned it and went to Maine for most of the winter.
The tilted cover shielding the entrance prevented the snow from blocking it off. Miraculously, I listened with my stethoscope and they are buzzing and humming inside there. How can it be? They are maintaining a temperature of 90 degrees in a small cluster. What a wonder!
Speaking of stethoscopes, I received my second Moderna vaccine and I know I mounted an immune response. I slept for 16 hours the following day. Well worth it. The one time, other than childbirth, I was happy to feel crook.
I wonder which one produced this albino calf? I thought it was a sheep at first glance.
That’s what it feels like at home. We are well stocked with the usual provisions- flour, butter, eggs, milk, coffee, but no chocolate. By default we gave it up. We’re only missing the ocean.
We are complying with New York’s PAUSE order. I work a bit at home. I get outside for an hour and a half a day and walk/run, listen to books, nature, practice french. I go offline a few hours every day. My kids brag about grubhub and food (and wine) delivery in urban areas. Not here. We’re on our own.
I’ve been creative in the kitchen: irish soda bread 
and corned beef, rustic white bread, donuts, pecan pie. They will have to roll me out of here.
We’ve been retreating to the cabin, which brings solace.
I’m ticking off my list of house projects, knitting, spinning, and quilting.
This little guy makes me laugh.
We wait. Thinking of those who have been touched by this and wishing them well. The mountains will remain.
Island and North Country Life 