We're going up to Maine next week for a little weekend getaway. We've never been in the winter, and since we have a fantasy of moving up North and selling pine cones, we figured we better get a reality check. And we all know March is made for reality checks.
My parents are there now with their dog, Bebop, a
Schnoodle. Here she is, looking ready to take on the 19 inches of snow that fell on Orono last night.
I'll be sure to bring my
Sorels!
8 comments:
Bebop!!!!!!!!!
By way of introduction, that's my dog in the picture. Getting her to pose while I knelt in the path attempting to frame the shot in dim light was a bit of a challenge. The result was worth the effort.
Those considering a life in Maine selling pine cones (presumably as exporters) should know that in addition to shoveling the walk and the drive, it is imperative to shovel a path in the yard for self-walking dogs. And urgent: after the biggest storm of the season the first thing shoveled was the dog run. A dog's got to go when a dog's got to go. My brother-in-law has a rescued greyhound, and the path in his back yard is, ah, extensive, leading from the house across the yard to the stand of pines, under which he has dug out a nice network of paths to make life more interesting for his dog. My brother-in-law is a thoughtful and caring man.
Some (those From Away) might consider this excessive. In fact, it's charming -- except when shoveling a treeload of snow falls on your head. Beyond the back fence begins the Great North Woods, criss-crossed with trails trafficked by deer nearly as numerous as those in New Jersey.
Perhaps this makes a compelling argument for cats -- for some. Me? I'd shovel the path. And in the spring collect the pine cones.
It's been great having my sister and brother-in-law here in Maine. It's rare that we have visitors come north in February.
Maine winters are hard. This is my 33rd. But there's a beauty and real-life quality to experiencing them that transcends my tendonitis.
Having special guests this winter has led Rose and me to experience things we've talked about but never done--horse-drawn sleigh rides and chowder-tasting contests!
I'm sad to see Peg and Ted leave, but we're excited about having a second wave of NJ visitors (the blogger herself and Mr. Blogger) in twelve days.
A note to those From Away ...
On Sunday night, 20 inches of snow fell on Maine. On Monday morning at 6 a.m., the streets had been plowed, and there was a newspaper inside the screen door, left by a paperboy who hoofed it up the unshoveled drive and walk. A little after 8, the Time Warner cable guy arrived to migrate phone, video, and data services. Monday -- a day like any other, except there were 20 inches of new snow on the ground. This is the way life should be.
Okay, okay, the whole story includes that UMaine cancelled classes until after 5 p.m., but the gym was open. I know, because I went over and tried to wear out an elliptical machine. By Tuesday, the roads were in good enough shape that I went for a run. I didn't fall, or even slip. And you should oughta see the snow-blowing crawler that clears the sidewalks.
Wow! Great comments! A few things:
1. I love that Maine's magical qualities can transcend tendonitis.
2. That paperboy should be given a medal.
3. I love the Mr. & Mrs. Blogger monikers. How come I didn't think of that?!
When I went out this morning, the temperature was 5 degrees, under a clear blue sky. The snow crunched pleasantly underfoot, and my dog wasn't interested in lingering explorations of the nether corners of the dog trail network. Factoring in the wind chill, it felt like ... 5 degrees. No wind. The way life should be.
Future visitors to the Inn on Westwood may be pleased to learn that Internet access is now available via the newly installed WiFi hotspot. Ask the innkeeper for details. And bring your laptops ...
We were present at the creation of something new last night, with the 4 of us nestled before the warming glow of hardwood burning in the fireplace -- pecking away at two Macbooks as we cranked away at NY Times crossword puzzles, posted comments to this blog, mailed digital photos of horse-drawn sleigh rides through the Maine woods to those From Away. Life here will never be the same, and it will still (and always) be The Way Life Should Be.
you need to get eleventyseven up and running, you prolific commenter, you!
And now ... snow in New Jersey. [Sigh]
Not much snow, to be sure. Nothing to get anyone from Maine's attention. Not even enough to shovel, really. Not enough to cause BeBop any problems as she goes about her business this morning. I'll get out and brush off the steps and the walk later -- if it doesn't melt first.
But it is inconvenient: I'd planned to run the E Murray Todd half marathon in Colt's Neck this morning. It wends its way through horse country and rolling hills and mansions (not just MacMansions) on back roads. Racers share those roads with cars, and it's easy to imagine slippery footing. So I'll skip it this year, and maybe go for a long run on Jim's elliptical machine later, watching golf or basketball on the television.
Inconvenient, and a little disappointing -- it was nearly 70 degrees here Friday. Crocuses have pushed their way up in the front yard. A good friend brought us a pot of daffodils, now in the den reminding us of spring. Which reminds me that it's March, the first of March, and March is like that, all feints and hesitations, warm days followed by snow.
But spring is coming, warmer weather is near (and was here). And there's always another race.
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