Monday I was going to have breakfast with Alice, make a quick trip to the Shop-Rite or Stop and Shop to pick up some things that seem to be completely unavailable in Vermont, and be on my way home. But I happened to check the weather and discovered that the threat of “accumulating snow” had moved from the early evening (after I planned to be home) to the early afternoon. That would put me in Bennington with two hours driving to go.
So I packed frantically, bailed on Alice (I’m SORRY, Alice) and was on the road not at 10 am but at 7:45 am. The trip was fine until Bennington, where the snow was coming down heavily and just starting to stick. The drive from Bennington to Danby (20 miles, if that) was just miserable. Driving in freezing fog, folks, is like driving through a curtain of iciness. The wiper blades were instantly coated with ice. Not heavily but enough to make a person nervous. The visibility was poor. I was lucky enough to get behind a panel truck who stayed in the driving lane and wasn’t trying to make time. It was a long 20 miles at 30 mph and I had visions of taking 4 hours to get to Randolph.
But at Danby the nasty weather stopped and I had clear sailing the rest of the way, and even hints of blue sky. Thelma fortified me with coffee and Ernie and I were home by 3:30. No sooner had I unpacked the car than the wind picked up and the snow started again.
And now it’s Arctic season. Winds are gusting, the temps are near zero, the wind chill is somewhere near -15, and under the snow is thick glare ice. I started the car this morning, so it wouldn't go on strike, and when this evening rolls around, I will muster my courage and drive somewhere just to warm the car up completely, because temps are expected to be below zero and that will drive the wind chill down to perhaps -25, although the wind chill doesn’t seem to bother the car. For the first time since I moved here in 2004 it is so windy and cold that I had to wear my good coat (microfiber, quilted inside, huge fur hood) to get the stovewood in.
It’s too cold to take the camera outside. Besides, how do you get a picture of cold weather? Well, I left the dead flower stalks standing in the garden next to the bedroom (many shapes, about 4’ tall) as a “winter landscape”. The wind has knocked them over to a 45-degree angle. Maybe that’s it.
The forecast is for a humdinger of a snowstorm New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. The temps will go up into the high 20’s (above zero), and the winds will die down. However, “Predictions of 12 inches may be understated”, said the weather guys today. Ah well. Winter in Vermont.
My New Year’s resolution is to see my dear ones more than once a year.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Christmas in NJ, 2
What a lovely visit those five days were. I spent a splendid, bright Christmas Eve afternoon with the Devincenzos, Tim and Danielle, and Jen and John Bucci. Then Christmas Eve at church, and I was invited afterward to a celebration at the Ortmans, where I saw many old friends and many now-grown-up Coming of Age kids. Christmas Day (rain, rain, go away) was at home with Jeri and Sabine, watching The (original) Santa Clause and that movie about the Elf and not getting out of pjs until about 2 pm.
On the 26th (rain, rain, go away) I dashed to the Rabinowitzes to give Richmond a small gift and to catch up on the honeymooners. Mike apparently overcame his doubts and went diving on the Great Barrier Reef. I can hardly wait for all the trip tales.
That was followed by lunch with Alice at a really good and authentic Greek restaurant (the name is Stamna, folks, in the same block as Holsten’s, next to Tartuffo) and then we saw “Up In the Air”, which I thought was very good and very bittersweet, and which left Alice totally bereft. What you expect to happen does not, and the ending is very ambiguous. Patrick was rhapsodic over the Long Trail shirt. It’s nice to see Patrick more outgoing and dare I say cheerful. I hope he can find a way to make that last.
Sunday, a gorgeous day, Jeri, Sabine and I spent out near Phillipsburg and Belvedere, as close as you can get to the Water Gap and still be in NJ. The occasion was a holiday gathering of all Sabine’s family – siblings, step-siblings, and all the children. Some came from Maine and even from Denver, with the Georgia contingent coming on Monday, so I didn’t even meet them all. The gathering was just wonderful. I was welcomed as warmly as though I’d joined them for years.
Sabine’s stepmother is a delight. She’ll be 80 this year, a tiny German woman who is a whirlwind. She’s a top-selling (multi-millions in sales) realtor, still selling full time, and she takes on good causes. She’s run a holiday food drive, including grocery store donations, for years, and a toy donation campaign that this year included electronic stuff for teens, because “we get so many plush toys and Legos, and there is nothing for the teenagers who feel most left out”. But more than that, she treats every one of her stepchildren (I think that between first and second marriages there are 6 children) as though they are her own, and the grandchildren, nieces and nephews are all “hers” as well. Nothing seems to get her down. I wanted to take her picture but she would have absolutely none of it.
She is not a Grandma Texas clone but they could certainly be cousins. The life in those women was/is something to behold.
On the 26th (rain, rain, go away) I dashed to the Rabinowitzes to give Richmond a small gift and to catch up on the honeymooners. Mike apparently overcame his doubts and went diving on the Great Barrier Reef. I can hardly wait for all the trip tales.
That was followed by lunch with Alice at a really good and authentic Greek restaurant (the name is Stamna, folks, in the same block as Holsten’s, next to Tartuffo) and then we saw “Up In the Air”, which I thought was very good and very bittersweet, and which left Alice totally bereft. What you expect to happen does not, and the ending is very ambiguous. Patrick was rhapsodic over the Long Trail shirt. It’s nice to see Patrick more outgoing and dare I say cheerful. I hope he can find a way to make that last.
Sunday, a gorgeous day, Jeri, Sabine and I spent out near Phillipsburg and Belvedere, as close as you can get to the Water Gap and still be in NJ. The occasion was a holiday gathering of all Sabine’s family – siblings, step-siblings, and all the children. Some came from Maine and even from Denver, with the Georgia contingent coming on Monday, so I didn’t even meet them all. The gathering was just wonderful. I was welcomed as warmly as though I’d joined them for years.
Sabine’s stepmother is a delight. She’ll be 80 this year, a tiny German woman who is a whirlwind. She’s a top-selling (multi-millions in sales) realtor, still selling full time, and she takes on good causes. She’s run a holiday food drive, including grocery store donations, for years, and a toy donation campaign that this year included electronic stuff for teens, because “we get so many plush toys and Legos, and there is nothing for the teenagers who feel most left out”. But more than that, she treats every one of her stepchildren (I think that between first and second marriages there are 6 children) as though they are her own, and the grandchildren, nieces and nephews are all “hers” as well. Nothing seems to get her down. I wanted to take her picture but she would have absolutely none of it.
She is not a Grandma Texas clone but they could certainly be cousins. The life in those women was/is something to behold.
Christmas in NJ, 1
It looks like a tradition is being established: I travel to NJ for Christmas. Except for when Christmas falls on Wednesday, this seems to be an emerging pattern. I stay with my friends Jeri and Sabine in Bloomfield, who always open their doors and the spare BR to me, and then spend a few days visiting with the boys as they gather with their in-law families, and with some of my old friends here.
This year was much the same. I drove down on the 23d, made endless phone calls and lined up all the visits. The differences between NJ and VT are small, large, and endless. For instance, phone numbers. Not every phone number is stashed in my cell phone. But most NJ people don't bother to buy white pages anymore, and Directory Assistance costs money. So I had to resort to whitepages.com to get local phone numbers. What if I’d had no computer connection?? Just strange.
On the other hand, in NJ Christmas lights abound, which can't be said for the far reaches of the Vermont countryside. For many years the house and yard in Nutley was a showstopper. Then that display stopped. Was it too expensive? Did the property change hands? I have no idea. But all is not lost. Now there's a property in Clifton, on Grove St right by Route 3, that has stepped up, in living color. If it hadn’t rained all day Christmas Day and the day after, I would’ve had time to go out in the evening and take pictures of NJ Christmas lights.
Randolph, VT can compete with NJ thanks to the Armstrong home, whose yard lights are almost exclusively candy canes. A forest of electric candy canes. And there's a house on School Street whose uphill driveway is crammed with figures and lights of all sorts. I love those houses. A whole block is too much. But the one lit-up-beyond-belief house is a testament to the delight we feel seeing so many lights at this dark time of year.
I might still get Christmas light pictures from Vermont. But right now we have to be delighted with the memory of Nutley.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
“I’m fine, thank you, just stupid.”
The snow that I thought was melting away was reinforced by an evening of whipping icy winds and then a day of not heavy but quite steady snow. So there are quite a few inches on the ground and Ray Churchill has plowed twice. “Where are your driveway markers?” he asked. I use them to mark the garden's railroad ties. “Under the snow,” I replied. In October I 
took them outdoors to set out but got
distracted by weeding. As the snow was falling I realized that they are still lying in the rose garden somewhere. Sigh.
This afternoon I decided to see if I could improve on some previously-taken winter pictures. So I hopped in the car and headed for various places in the neighborhood.
Many promising shots turned out not to be so wonderful, but Delete is the glory of the digital camera. I was parked across from the house with this apple tree and the homeowner came out to see what was up.
When I told her I was waiting for the sun to come back out and shine up the apples for the photo she just looked at me and said “Okay” in that are-you-crazy tone of voice and went back in her house.
It was around 1pm, and the sky was full of clouds, so the light came and went. As I was coming home, up a steep hill, I saw an old farm implement in a yard, and before I knew it I drove past it. So I started backing up. This in itself, on a snowy road, is not so smart. Someone came up behind me, I moved a tad to the right and stopped, and they passed me.
When I started backing again I was too close to the edge of the road. The back wheels slipped off and the back end buried itself and the passenger side of the car in snow. Getting out without a pull was hopeless.
The cell phone worked so I tried to call Ray Churchill and got no answer. I waited a bit to try a second and third time, and then realized that my other neighbors’ phones are not in my cell phone. However, a rescuer arrived in the presence of Dakota Engberg, age 17, who was visiting his mom and was heading somewhere with his cousin. They put their errand on hold and went for help.
In the meantime, several drivers came and went. Every man in a pickup asked if I had help coming, and then if I was okay, to which I replied, “I’m fine, thank you, just stupid.” Finally Dakota found Nick Peck, also age 17, who came with his truck and chain. The boys had forgotten a shovel, but went up the road and borrowed one. Digging out the car would make the pulling easier. And in no time I was back on the road.
Well, that stupid lesson has been learned. I should have driven to the top of the hill and turned around in a driveway, but I didn’t want to lose the light on the picture. And that decision put me in a snowbank about 5 miles from home, wearing boots and mittens and a parka, but no hat, and the temperature was in the 20s. Walking would probably have kept me warm enough, and the wind wasn’t blowing, and the sun was out, but I am eternally grateful not to have had to make that walk. Next time I will let the light go. A bit like a choice Tim had to make once, about a cat.
As soon as I got home I turned on the oven and made “Mrs. Dempsey cookies” for my rescuers! And this was the picture.
took them outdoors to set out but gotdistracted by weeding. As the snow was falling I realized that they are still lying in the rose garden somewhere. Sigh.
This afternoon I decided to see if I could improve on some previously-taken winter pictures. So I hopped in the car and headed for various places in the neighborhood.
Many promising shots turned out not to be so wonderful, but Delete is the glory of the digital camera. I was parked across from the house with this apple tree and the homeowner came out to see what was up.
It was around 1pm, and the sky was full of clouds, so the light came and went. As I was coming home, up a steep hill, I saw an old farm implement in a yard, and before I knew it I drove past it. So I started backing up. This in itself, on a snowy road, is not so smart. Someone came up behind me, I moved a tad to the right and stopped, and they passed me.
When I started backing again I was too close to the edge of the road. The back wheels slipped off and the back end buried itself and the passenger side of the car in snow. Getting out without a pull was hopeless.
The cell phone worked so I tried to call Ray Churchill and got no answer. I waited a bit to try a second and third time, and then realized that my other neighbors’ phones are not in my cell phone. However, a rescuer arrived in the presence of Dakota Engberg, age 17, who was visiting his mom and was heading somewhere with his cousin. They put their errand on hold and went for help.
In the meantime, several drivers came and went. Every man in a pickup asked if I had help coming, and then if I was okay, to which I replied, “I’m fine, thank you, just stupid.” Finally Dakota found Nick Peck, also age 17, who came with his truck and chain. The boys had forgotten a shovel, but went up the road and borrowed one. Digging out the car would make the pulling easier. And in no time I was back on the road.
Well, that stupid lesson has been learned. I should have driven to the top of the hill and turned around in a driveway, but I didn’t want to lose the light on the picture. And that decision put me in a snowbank about 5 miles from home, wearing boots and mittens and a parka, but no hat, and the temperature was in the 20s. Walking would probably have kept me warm enough, and the wind wasn’t blowing, and the sun was out, but I am eternally grateful not to have had to make that walk. Next time I will let the light go. A bit like a choice Tim had to make once, about a cat.
As soon as I got home I turned on the oven and made “Mrs. Dempsey cookies” for my rescuers! And this was the picture.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
First snowfall, 2009
For me, snow announces the season of Quiet. There was no wind yesterday – so we had a classic snowfall, and, like Tim said once, you could listen to the quiet. Snow creates quiet: there is very little sound of snow hitting the ground, the car, or the roof, but there also seems to be a deep, deep quietness that is unknown at any other time. My uninformed mind believes that falling snow breaks up the air’s ability to carry sound. Probably not the scientific reason at all.
But snow brings other kinds of quiet. While snow is falling I’ll hear car engines as cars drive by, but no road noise. Once there’s a lot of snow on the ground, the road noise is greatly diminshed all the time.
Snow quiets the landscape. No more does the lawn shout “Mow me!” No more does the garden shout “Come look at me!” or “Weed me! Clean me up!”. The cows move more slowly, as finding grass to graze is more difficult. Instead of trotting around sunlit summer pastures, the horses stand in the sun, absorbing the warmth, not throwing any of that warmth away by exercising. (Unlike the dogs, who seem to think that a light snowfall is the perfect excuse to tear around, barking.) Farming chores move into barns and garages. House projects that require outdoor effort get put away until the spring.
In many ways, as Clement Moore wrote, it’s time for “a long winter’s nap”*. The quiet of snow reminds me that I should use the time under winter’s blanket to find quiet in my life. Not that I should do nothing, but that I should settle in by the woodstove, find a book, take out my knitting, and do the reading, thinking and reflecting that I say I never have time for. A nap is not a bad idea, either.
"A Visit From Saint Nicholas"
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