Beth's stories

Unexpected Delights

2011-01-02T18:23:00.001-05:00

As Labor Day weekend approached, Charlie and I were two mountains short of our goal of hiking the 67 New England 4000 footers.

Katahdin in Baxter State Park is a monstrous massif whose summit stretches for miles and encompasses two distinct peaks that qualify as 4000 footers. We had conquered the well-known Baxter Peak on other hikes but still had the less-traveled Hamlin Peak ahead of us.

We planned to drive to Millinockett and stay in a hotel the night before heading into Baxter State Park but the Big Bed Bug Scare of Summer 2010 caused me to fear staying in a hotel. So on to Plan B. We called the park and were able to get two bunks in the bunkhouse at the trailhead--I was certain that my sleeping bag was bed bug free and couldn't imagine any self-respecting bed bug living in the inhospitable environment of a plywood bunk in Baxter State Park. So, off we went. The change of plans meant bringing gear to cook breakfast so we brought along our little stove and some supplies.

There was another couple in the bunk house with us and we stayed up playing Scrabble with them by gas lantern--some time during the game and the getting-to-know-you, Charlie and the other man discovered that they had both been to an Eagles and Dan Fogelberg concert in 1974 in New York City. Do you ever wonder if we are all in some big Venn diagram and everyone intersects at some point?

The next morning, we were off to the trail. Katahdin is my nemesis--I love it and I hate it--mostly I love it when I'm finished climbing it or planning to climb it--when I'm on the trail, I think that it's really really hard and the Native Americans were probably right about it being a sacred mountain that shouldn't be climbed. I decide that I'm too old for such nonesense and decide never to climb it again--but where would the story be in that.

Our planned route was long and the wind above the trees was crazy. But the views were incredible. When I wasn't shaking my first at the mountain for being so difficult, I was full of the belief that at that moment I was the most fortunate person on earth.

We made it to the top with a great deal of effort. It was impossible to remain completely vertical in the strong wind and without a tie for my hair my vision was severely compromised. I was afraid of descending the rocky trail with hair flying into my eyes and we made a decision to struggle through the wind for a mile along the summit ridge in order to descend by the sheltered Saddle Trail to Chimney Pond. Chimney Pond is only 3.3 miles from the Roaring Brook campground and our car. It was a gradual grade and all downhill for us at that point but exhaustion was setting in.

About 1/2 mile from the end of the trail, Charlie remembered something wonderful! "We have instant coffee and milk and sugar left over from breakfast! I will go ahead and make it for you!" A more sincere and timely expression of love has never been spoken.

So, I limped to the car and changed into jeans and a flannel shirt--cotton is deadly while hiking but so comforting afterward. I slid down to the ground against a tree because it was the only way. Charlie handed me a cup of the most delicious coffee and we toasted our astounding day. And you know, I really do love Katahdin.

Climbing Cannon with the Frat Boys

2010-10-16T19:26:00.001-04:00

In January of 2007, Ethan and a bunch of his fraternity brothers rented a condominium in Franconia Notch so that they could ski at Cannon Mountain. This was their senior year and they were ready for a skiing vacation before heading back for their last semester. Unfortunately, the weather gods did not cooperate and the snow conditions were abysmal for skiing so Ethan suggested calling his mom who could bring some winter hiking gear over and then we could all climb Cannon. Yes, I think that I might be the only mother ever invited on a fraternity outing.

I brought along thermoses of hot tea and hot jello, crampons and snow shoes and microspikes and everything else that I could come up with and headed over to meet them at the trail head.

The weather most of the way up was misty and the ground conditions were snow and ice. I climbed fearlessly knowing that there were a dozen strong young men to carry me down if I broke my leg.

I have thick hair and lots of it and hats just aren't that comfortable for me. So, in the winter I usually hike with as little on my head as possible. That day, my hair was getting pretty damp from the mist but I didn't think too much about it on the way up while my body was warm from exertion. I should add that I was much more of a novice winter hiker than I am now and in no way endorse my winter hiking methods of 2007--do not try this at home, kids.

So, we climbed through the mist and slipped and slid our way up the mountain. Some of the boys hiked in jeans, some in sneakers, some in ski boots--we were a motley crew but having the best time. As we reached the summit suddenly it wasn't warm any more and there was a frigid wind and things started to freeze fast--including my hair.

The way I remember it, someone snapped a picture in a hurry and we all ran as fast as we could into the trees and drank tea and hot jello and put on whatever clothes were still dry in our backpacks and laughed and slid our way down the mountain and into the part of my brain labeled favorite memories.

Thanks Ross, from whose facebook photo album I stole these pictures. I'll treasure this forever.

I've been meaning to tell you this for over a year.......

2010-10-11T07:15:00.000-04:00

There is actually a hostel at the airport in Stockholm that is built into a 747 Jumbo Jet. I kid you not.

In 2009, after spending time together in northern Sweden, Sara was flying back to Macedonia and Charlie and I were heading back to Maine so we were looking for someplace to stay the night before our flights. Stockholm hotels were out of our price range which is why we had been spending our time up north reindeer country. But, Sara, being young and wise in the way of youth hostels, found us the Jumbo Hostel at the Arlanda Airport.

After returning our rental car, we walked across the street to what looked like a gigantic plane parked in a field. It was, actually, a gigantic plane parked in a field. A series of metal airport-like steps led up to the entrance where we were immediately told to take off our shoes. I'm not sure why, but I am a rule-follower so the shoes came off.

The rooms were off a narrow corridor and were small but we fit. There was a double size bunk on the bottom in our room and a little crow's nest upper bunk that little Sara could squeeze into. Our suitcases went under the bottom bunk and there was room for one of us to stand up at a time--just not room enough for that one person to actually turn around.

It was great fun and cheap and very convenient to the airport. A bus stopped right across the street to take us to the terminal.

The Jumbo Hostel is even listed as #1 on a website devoted to the World's Weirdest Hotels.

The Jumbo Jet was different and weird, but according to this website there is a hotel in Idaho inside a giant wooden dog. I think that might be my next trip.

So, where did we leave off.................

2010-10-10T08:07:00.001-04:00

Oh, I have missed this little blog. It's time to dust it off, spruce things up a bit and continue sharing what is in my heart.

Facebook is good for a quickie but doesn't allow the insight into the soul that is a blog post--so let's try this again, shall we?

Since we last visited, some things have happened but the essentials are the same....I live in obscurity in a forgotten corner of Maine surrounded by great natural beauty and possessed with an imagination, five cats, a loving husband, eccentric parents and globe-trotting children.

Over the summer, I closed my little law practice in the carriage house and took a job with the State of Maine, Judicial Branch working with two grant programs devoted to assisting families in the child protection system. While my efforts are devoted to the same topic as before, there are no more front-line skirmishes. After eleven years of being in the trenches, it was time to let my battle scars heal and use the hard-won wisdom to try and improve things.

What else happened in the last seven months--oh yes, we went to Chile in April to see how Vila Alhue had survived the earthquake and found that the charming little town had lost all of its 200 year old adobe structures but the spirit of the people was intact. The trapped Chilean miners are giving us all some insight into what that culture is made of--they have some strong internal stuff going on, for sure.

In May, son Ethan busted his legs six ways from Sunday. Rugby----what more can I say. Sara will finish up with the Peace Corps in five weeks--it doesn't seem like it could be more than two years but it is.

I've missed you all, my dear blogging friends, thank you for your patience and the facebook chats during my hiatus.

Loveyou

Beth

Checking in with the bees

2010-03-13T17:37:00.006-05:00

Well, one hive made it through the winter--one did not and here's the story of how it all happened.

Last April I started two hives with bees delivered to Maine from a bee farm in Georgia--being a transplanted southern girl myself, I had a great deal of sympathy for the 20,000 little honeybees and I committed to giving them the best life possible in this cold climate.

I named the two hives for the first two 4000 footers that I climbed. Washington and Madison. From the very beginning Washington seemed to be the stronger hive. They built their comb faster and seemed to be filling up their space with hive and honey. Madison was working hard but just never quite seemed to keep up with Washington. Then---tragedy struck in the form of the summer of 2009 with basically two months of rain, no sunshine or warmth. Veteran beekeepers said it was the worst summer ever for them and my two hives apparently had had enough and swarmed while I was away in Latvia and Sweden during August.

My dad and I consulted with the State Beekeeper--yes, indeed a sweet state job if ever I heard of one. He re-assured us and said that he had been fielding calls all summer about hives swarming. He told us to be patient and leave the hive alone for a couple of weeks.

Before a hive of bees decide to swarm--they plan--they are such smart little creatures. They begin their plan by building some queen cells. Queen cells are larger than the regular cells that the bees normally create for eggs and the nurse bees feed the larvae in the queen cell something called royal jelly. The royal jelly triggers her to grow larger and to develop sexually so that she can reproduce. Both my hives had created queen cells and when they swarmed they left behind nurse bees to take care of the developing queen.

So, during the time that the State beekeeper told us to leave the hive alone it was doing naturally exactly what it was supposed to--it was developing a new hive full of bees--no remnants of the Georgia bees any more except maybe a little bit of DNA telling them to seek out sweet tea and cornbread.

By early September, both hives were again producing and storing honey for the fall--despite our abysmal summer, the fall of 2009 was full of sunny warm days and the bees were busy. Washington completely filled its 3 "supers". Supers are the boxes that contain the frames on which the bees build their comb. The experts told us that we should have all 3 supers full before we could harvest any for ourselves--well under the circumstances we were just hoping that the bees filled the supers for themselves and we resigned to wait until next year for our honey.

Washington filled its 3 supers by mid-October when we were ready to cover the hives for the winter. Madison had filled 2 supers and the third was completely empty but we left the empty box on and hoped somehow that maybe they would be able to fill it. That was our mistake. We covered the hives with tar paper and watched the snow fall.

One day in between Christmas and New Year, we had a terrible storm full of fierce wind and the next morning when I looked across the field at the hives--I realized our error--the empty box on the top of Madison had blown off exposing the hive to the cold.

I threw on my snowshoes and ran to the hive--I could still see that some bees were alive--I brushed the snow off and covered it as quickly as I could but I knew that it was probably too late. So, I cried a little bit yet hoped for the best.

Last Sunday, the temperatures were in the 40's and the sun was shining so I went out to check. I was hoping to see little yellow spots on the snow around the hives--the bees will not urinate or defecate in the hive so they hold it until a sunny day then fly out to relieve themselves. I was encouraged when I got close and saw little yellow spots on the snow around Washington--and then as I got even closer some bees flew out to greet me. Washington Lived! I was so happy.

I opened Madison knowing what I would find and I did find a hive full of dead bees. But one hive had made it and while I am very sad about Madison, we fight on through adversity and so I came home and ordered another box of those Georgia bees--they'll be here in mid-April and they have a nice little hive to move into with beautiful comb and even a good bit of honey--all courtesy of Madison. The new hive will be called Lafayette in honor of that beautiful mountain in Franconia Notch--the third one I climbed on my personal journey to find new heights.

Mt. Chocorua--March 2010

2010-03-08T17:34:00.013-05:00

From many of the summits that I reached while completing the list of New Hampshire 4000 footers, I would notice an interesting mountain to the south and say "What's that peak?" and Charlie would reply, "Chocorua". Hmmm, I would think--that mountain seems to look different from every angle but from every angle it looks intriguing. Eventually, I stopped asking what the funny looking peak was and just assumed that the one that caught my eye was Chocorua. Among the White Mountain hiking community, Chocorua is a name that comes up repeatedly as a favorite summit--people hike it over and over and over and now I know why.

This past Saturday, along with Sally and Elise, I headed up the Champney Brook Trail to the summit. The snow was perfect and the air temperature was cool enough to keep the snow solid and our body temperatures comfortable but high enough that we could retain feeling in our fingers and toes. The trail follows along and climbs above the Champney Brook with a side trail leading to the Champney Falls. We saw ice climbers heading to the falls and decided to take that detour on our descent.

We estimated that the snow was at least 5 feet deep based on the fact that the trail signs were right at our feet level. Sally climbed up on one of the signs for a photo shoot.

The trail took a turn to the west away from the brook and started a series of switchbacks which led us into an area just below the summit. The wind was pretty strong in the open but the views were spectacular.

We headed back into the trees to find a place to eat our lunch before heading down. Our descent went really fast and in some of the steepest parts I used the slide on your bottom and pretend you did it on purpose method. Tried and true.

We made it back to the s ide trail to the waterfall and tramped through some fresh snow in order to meet up with the ice climbers. It looked like an ice climbing class with lots of people climbing on the frozen waterfall. Good clean fun. Another great day in the mountains feeling like the luckiest person in the world

Hello from Maine

2010-03-07T07:26:00.009-05:00

Oh, it's been a long time since I have written here. What a lot of life there has been since then.

At Christmastime my brother and his family flew up from Chile. His family now includes an ADORABLE chubby cheeked baby. The little baby stole all of our hearts and you can imagine our fears when we woke last Saturday morning to the news that their world had just been shaken beyond imagination.

I saw the news on-line at 5 a.m. and after reading the newswires and watching CNN for 20 minutes decided that I should wake up my parents. The village of Alhue is located about 100 miles as the crow flies from the epicenter of that monster 8.8 earthquake. I wrote quite a bit about Alhue in 2008 when we traveled there for my brother's wedding. Charlie and I headed over to my parents' house to set up Chile Information Central. Between the internet and CNN we were able to gather quite a bit of information but not until our skype icon bounced were we able to learn anything about our family.

Brother had been working in Mexico and was flying back to Chile as the earthquake struck. He was re-routed and landed at the very northern part of the country--some 1500 kilometers from home. He was able to chat with us through skype from the airport and re-assure us. He had little information about his family except that his wife had cut her feet on glass getting out of the house but that everyone was safe. Over the next twenty four hours, he made his way home and we have heard from him sporadically since then. The family is safe but the village is very damaged. All of the adobe buildings crumbled and even the new construction has suffered. They are currently living and sleeping in the courtyard to avoid the risk of the aftershocks and eating their laying hens.

Life can be unexpected and so very frightening sometimes.

'twas the Sunday Before Christmas

2009-12-20T19:06:00.007-05:00

While the east coast was paralyzed by the Blizzard of '09, we in Western Maine watched it pass on by without a flurry. To take my mind off worrying about Molly and how she would get home from DC in time for Christmas, I went over to my parents house where every day and every event is a party. Today, the house was full of people who work with my mother at the Buckfield-Sumner Swap Shop. That's a picture of my Dad, isn't he cute?

But, the weekend wasn't just spent partying with the In Crowd, I also took advantage

of some quiet time and followed a link from Jayne's

blog to make the perfect gift for this H1N1

Holiday Season. The directions are here.

It's a different sort of Christmas for me this year. Sara will only be here in spirit and through skype, Ethan is going to Kentucky to visit his wife's family, Archie is going to stay in Pennsylvania and work over the holiday, Molly is stranded in 16 inches of snow in our nation's capital and I am flying out Christmas afternoon for a weekend in Dallas for my sweet niece's wedding.

Here's a special story by a favorite author that made me smile this morning.

Update on Dogs 101

2009-11-20T21:26:00.001-05:00

Sorry, folks, I guess we were confused. Atticus will be on Dogs 101 on Saturday night, November 21.

Random thoughts of the day

2009-11-19T14:53:00.011-05:00

This morning I went by the courthouse to file a motion and found the hallway full of people waiting for their criminal arraignments. Here's the weird thing. Most of them were kind of old. Lots of long gray ponytails on old men--isn't crime a young man's game? True fact: If you are old enough to have gray hair down to your buttocks, you are old enough to behave yourself.

Later, a stop for tea with my parents. I smiled at the beehives all wrapped up in tar paper to insulate them against the winter cold and imagined the bees cuddled up around the queen telling stories as they nibble on honey comb.

Next stop, the county jail to see a young mother heartbroken and addicted and missing her children. My favorite guard, knowing I would be safe, let us meet in the library rather than the sterile rather icky meeting room with its one-way glass and intercom. I looked at the book collection while waiting for the young woman to be brought in--the books looked worn out and the selection leaned heavily toward thrillers and romances. John Grisham and Danielle Steele and lots of authors that I've never heard of. There was a Bible and a textbook on biology. I think my book donations from now on will be to the jail.

As I was leaving and walking down the stairway to the outside, I wondered why is the stairway railing painted orange like the suits that the prisoners wear? I understand the reasoning for the outfits to be orange--they are easy to spot in case of an escape--but the railings on the stairs aren't going to escape--they are just plain ugly--surely orange paint isn't cheaper than a nice rose color. Who makes these decisions?

Then a trip to another town to watch a 2 year old visit with his mom for the first time in 8 months. He reached for a toy lion and put it on top of a doll house and I wanted to tell him a fun fact that I learned last night while reading Cry of the Kalahari by Mark and Delia Owens. Under the right atmospheric conditions--when the desert is at its highest relative humidity between 4:30 a.m. and just after dawn--a lion's roar can be heard for 8 miles. The book says that "To roar, a lion draws air deep into its chest, tightens its abdomen with great force to compress the air, and then releases it through its vocal cords, the sound erupting from the throat with such energy that it carries great distances." I didn't tell the 2 year old all that, I just let him play with his mom. But, maybe, there was a roar, there was definitely a tightening in my chest.

A special episode

2009-11-18T07:27:00.004-05:00

In February, I wrote about Tom and Atticus being filmed by a crew from Animal Planet for an episode on Dogs 101. The episode originally aired in October and was super duper good. Their segment was the last in the show and the producers gave lots of teasers throughout to increase the anticipation.

The episode will be repeated this Friday, November 20 at 8 and 11 p.m. and my advice--bring some kleenex and a cuddly pet with you to the couch.

Rejuvenation and reminder

2009-11-17T05:14:00.018-05:00

A month or so ago one of daughter Sara's good friends e-mailed her in Macedonia and said that she was weary of her city life and needed a nature break--did Sara think that her mother (that would be me) would let her come to Maine for a visit? Sara sent me the reply email which said "Are you kidding, of course she would!" So, it was set--Louise and a friend of hers (coincidentally named Sarah) would fly up to Maine from their busy lives in Washington, DC for Halloween weekend. The excitement of the weekend began when I met their plane in Portland late Thursday night and we noticed that Senator Olympia Snowe had been on their plane. I guess she needed a nature break, too.

One of our first stops on our nature tour was my favorite tree. Since my last posting on the tree, it has been determined to be the second largest white pine in the state of Maine. If I was more competitive that #1 tree should be in serious trouble. After hiking all over the woods checking the beaver dam and the beehives, we went back to my parents' house and had a lovely dinner where my parents fell hook, line and sinker in love with these two girls.

On Saturday, we drove up into the mountains and hiked out to Angel Falls. Angels Falls is a startlingly beautiful waterfall that is really hard to get to. The path to the falls starts 3.5 miles down the Bemis Track which is sometimes navigable by vehicle, sometimes not. We hit it lucky--there had recently been some logging along the track so it had been stabilized for the first 3 miles. After that, we were on our own and the last 1/2 mile was scary. But we made it to the trailhead and then hiked into the falls crossing the river once and then a stream once, twice, three times then navigated our way around a big boulder and there it was. Surprise!

Halloween night in between passing out candy to every little kid in the River Valley, the girls discovered Molly and Archie's craft box and the sounds of their soft voices in front of the fire as they created cute little crafts made my heart absolutely grow three sizes.

On Sunday morning, we headed off to the coast. There were no big storms out to sea and it was low tide so the waves were not impressive, but the setting was beautiful. Sarah looked out to sea, I watched birds on a nearby island with my binoculars and Louise sketched.

After a final stop at L. L. Bean on the way to the airport, we said our good-byes and went back to our lives--all touched by the weekend. Louise and Sarah said that their souls were rejuvenated by being immersed in nature, by being with a family, by having their senses touched with laughing trick or treaters and soft kitties and a warm fire but my soul was rejuvenated because once again I realized that this generation of young people, just coming into their own, is really spectacular. The future is in very good hands.

Hip Hopping at the Grocery

2009-11-15T19:07:00.009-05:00

On Sunday afternoons, I usually head to the grocery store to stock up on yogurt, skim milk and whole grain bread for the week. That is the giant yawn that has become my life here at 50 with children flown from the nest. Shopping these days is not nearly as colorful or tasty as it was back in the day when the cart was piled full with double-stuff oreos, fruit roll ups and Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Until today, though, the most excitement that I had experienced at our local Hannaford was when a daughter who should remain nameless (but linked) was home for a few weeks in between college and the Peace Corps and was bemoaning the lack of social life in her home town. As we pushed our cart into the local grocery store where everybody knows your name, we noticed an older man and a younger man pushing a cart just ahead of us. We did not know these people and more importantly to daughter--the young man was quite handsome. I will admit that we did an admirable job of stalking them that day in the grocery store discerning all sorts of things about their lives from the items that they selected. Daughter and I still talk about that--she'll say, "remember the time that we saw a good looking guy at Hannaford?"

But today, as I mindlessly walked up and down the aisles looking for low unit prices and no transfat, I noticed that my step was a little bouncier, my shoulders were a little straighter, and a smile was on my face. About that time, I realized that music was loudly playing over the PA system. The next thing I knew a youngish looking good old boy on the pickle aisle caught my eye and boogied a bit as he karaokied to Play that Funky Music White Boy. So, a note to all of my male readers in the 20 to 35 age range (I know you are out there) any time that you get an opportunity to dance to Wild Cherry with a 50 year old woman in the aisles of the local grocery store--you really should do it.

Grab bag

2009-10-18T07:11:00.014-04:00

Is there a statute of limitations on stuff your kids friends have left at your house?

Would you say that if a friend of a daughter left a bag almost six years ago then the bag is up for grabs? Me too. So after six years of lusting for this bag as it hung on a peg in my hallway, I threw caution, patience and good manners to the wind and claimed it as my nature bag. It has pockets for guide books and binoculars and a big pouch for the camera and room for a water bottle on the side--I am OUTFITTED.

So with my new bag, I went off into the woods to see what I could see.

I found some British Soldier Lichen along the path and something that I believe is a lichen but that I have not been able to identify. Ideas welcome.

My mom felt up to walking with me and we made it down to the river. We found a few trees that looked like the beavers had recently been at work but nothing like the activity that we saw last fall and they have not repaired the dam. Their two lodges are still in the river, but do not have any noticeable fresh improvements. So, I don't know what to think about the beavers--the ice will be in soon but I'll keep checking over the next few weeks.

Where Have All the People Gone?

2009-10-14T09:44:00.007-04:00

This morning walking to the Post Office I noticed an entire street full of empty houses. Walking along and counting I noticed that of the first ten houses that I passed, eight were empty. What is going on? Where are people going?

Scary times.

Addendum: So, about 5 minutes after I hit publish on this, there was a knock on the door. A nice lady and her husband who are buying the empty house next door. Would I do the closing? Of course! Work and a neighbor all in one day! Brighter days ahead?

Shuffle Songs

2009-10-04T11:37:00.006-04:00

It's a Sunday of nesting activities--cleaning the house and working on a baby blanket to send to a new mother in Estonia who translated for us and made us feel welcome when we visited in August.

I love days like this with no demands.

To set the mood, I set my ipod to shuffle songs and turned it up loud enough to function as my personal soundtrack. The random shuffle had gone through Pachabel's Cannon in D, Muleskinner Blues, Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy and Alan Jackson's version of The Old Rugged Cross--in the time it took me to do a load of laundry. As Welcome to the 60's from Hairspray began, it occurred to me that I really like every song on my ipod but there is probably not another list exactly like it. Our ipod lists are like snowflakes or fingerprints--unique--just like us!

Many years ago, I stayed up late talking to the man who owned a bed & breakfast that I was staying in in Wales. As we traded thoughts into the wee hours, he said something so profound that I think of it every day. It's all part of the tapestry of life.

Yes, indeed.

The Tippy Tops of New Hampshire

2009-09-27T17:30:00.006-04:00

On Saturday, we hiked the Signal Ridge Trail to the top of 4700 foot Mt. Carrigain for my final New Hampshire 4000 footer climb.

I read a lot of mountain climbing books and blogs and it occurs to me that 4000 foot tall mountains aren't really that tall--Colorado climbers have their 14,000 foot club and Europeans have the Alps and don't even get me started on the Himalyas--but for we New Englanders who hit the trail near sea level, 4000 feet is the best we can do and doggone it, our trails are plenty hard enough for middle-aged weekend warriors like me! So yesterday on a picture perfect September day, we climbed up Mt. Carrigain. From the observation tower at the summit we could see 43 of the 48 peaks and we named them and remembered the climbs to reach their tops.

Ethan came up from Pennsylvania to share the hike. Charlie's sons Caleb and Jacob joined us, too. Net result of so much testosterone--I did not have to carry a backpack!

We ate our sandwiches on the summit and as we ate, I pointed out a beautiful gray jay keeping watch from a nearby spruce. He was so pretty and just weeks away from a long, long winter--so I gave in to temptation and shared a corner of my peanut butter and jelly with him.

Today, Carrigain

2009-09-26T06:04:00.009-04:00

Today is the day to finish climbing the 48 New Hampshire 4000 footers. Caleb is driving up from Massachusetts to meet us at the trailhead, Ethan is here from Pennsylvania and Charlie will be at my side as we hike Mt. Carrigain.

See you at the top.

Scales of Justice

2009-09-23T06:32:00.004-04:00

One morning last winter, our morning news reported a man dead after a train hit a car on the railroad tracks in the wee hours of the morning in a nearby town. At first blush, that sounded unfortunate but not out of the realm of sad but ordinary. As details emerged, it became clear that it was anything but ordinary. The car was down the tracks away from the crossing. More details--the train was only going 25 miles per hour and the man in the car had died from injuries unrelated to the train crash. Oh dear, this began to sound grisley--more like Law & Order than the bucolic life in the mountains.

A young man was arrested on circumstantial evidence.

One of my friends took the case as the defense attorney and yesterday the young man was acquitted after a week long trial.

There are lots of feelings in the community when something like that happens and I would not presume to characterize or minimize all of the emotions, but I am very proud of my friend. He protected his client and he protected the Constitution and he held the State to its burden of proof.

Mountain Trails

2009-09-20T06:45:00.010-04:00

So, I turned 50.

It happens.

Others have done it and lived to tell the tale. Maybe it's no big deal, maybe it is--I guess that's something I'll have to think about. But whatever it is, it is a round number and round numbers provide an opportunity for sizing things up. So, size it up I will and I think it's ok. Life is full and beautiful and everything that my young self would have hoped for. No regrets.

But enough about age, let's go hiking.

After a miserable New England summer full of rain and cold temperatures, fall is turning out to be pretty darn perfect.

At one point, early in the season before the rain and before the super duper vacation, I had thought that maybe I would finish climbing all of the New England 4000 footers by the time I turned 50. That plan was de-railed by early July but I kept hiking whenever good weather and opportunity collided.

The hike to Bondcliff Mountain in New Hampshire was the one that I had the most trouble visualizing. There is no easy way to get to Bondcliff--it is in the middle of the Pemigewasset Wilderness and requires a long hike into the wilderness just to get to the mountain trail.

We finally settled on heading into the Wilderness on a Saturday afternoon with a tent and sleeping bags and camping 5 or 6 miles in, leaving our gear in the woods and summiting on Sunday with just day packs then returning to our big packs and hiking out Sunday afternoon. The plan worked like a charm--mainly because Charlie didn't mind carrying all the heavy stuff. Anyway, we hiked in and put our tent up in the woods off the trail, ate supper, went to sleep and woke up to head up the mountain that I had dreamed of the most.

When I first started hiking the mountains, I read every book that I could get my hands on and invariably the authors would talk about Bondcliff. It was at the top of almost everyone's list of favorite mountains and its inaccessibility added to its allure. So for the last four years, I have been wondering how and when I would experience it--the conditions had to be perfect for this most anticipated of mountains and on our weekend, they were. It was just incredible--like being on an island in the middle of a sea of mountains. A flat topped mountain with sheer cliffs dropping into the Pemigewasset.

We spent time on the top taking pictures of the views and each other then we hiked out retriving our heavy gear along the way. With Bondcliff under my belt I only have one more New Hampshire 4000 footer on the list. There are still more in Vermont and Maine to check off but I should complete the 48 peaks in New Hampshire this month.

Sweden with Sara

2009-08-30T06:16:00.009-04:00

Sara and I actually hatched the plot for this vacation in an early Sunday morning google chat conversation several months ago. We desperately wanted to see one another and she felt that she could use a restful respite outside of her peace corps posting. Charlie had expressed interest in the Baltics to follow his ancestry and shortly after I woke him up that Sunday morning with my jotted notes of prices, times and possibilities, it was a done deal.

So, the first week was spent in an incredible journey through art history and cultural history in Latvia and Estonia and then we flew from Riga to Stockholm. As we exited through customs, there was an adorable little American girl with a backpack, a sweet smile and a sign that said MOM. There is no picture because I was flying into her arms.

On the internet, we had found a little inn on the banks of Lake Siljan about 3 hours north and west of Stockholm called the Klockargarden. In our rented Volvo (oh yes, a Volvo--how can you not love Sweden?) we made our way out to the Swedish countryside. Charlie drove while Sara told us all about Macedonia and her experiences. We arrived at our destination just in time for dinner at the Inn. Reindeer! Yes, we ate reindeer! It was delicious and didn't taste anything like chicken. I could eat reindeer every day. Oh I love Sweden.

The Inn was just what we had hoped for. Everything was beautiful, restful and comfortable. Just the place for three people to spend time saying a year's worth of words to each other.

We spent 3 delicious, happy days in the Swedish countryside before heading back to the airport in Stockholm for one last night--and it was a doozy! Sara had found our accommodations for us. It was called the Jumbo Hostel and was located at the airport and was inexpensive and was inside a jumbo jet--yes, you heard right--a jumbo jet. I expect to post more about that some day when I am short on material.

After stowing our belongings in our overhead compartment, Charlie settled down to listen to a baseball game on the internet and Sara and I took a bus into Stockholm for one last mother-daughter evening until the next one.

The next morning, we flew off in our different directions--tears were easy for me as we headed back across the Atlantic but my ears are still full of her stories and laughter to get me through.

Last Days in the Baltics

2009-08-25T00:03:00.006-04:00

Over the weekend we took our rental car and a good map of the Baltics and went off to see two churches that had paintings by Johann Maddaus over their altars.

The first church was in north central Latvia in a town called Tirza. Charlie had e-mailed with the pastor and he had invited us to their Saturday evening bible study. We attended and were treated like celebrities.

Charlie was asked to talk about himself and his great-grandfather which he did as we sat in a group with the pastor translating. I noticed an inchworm making its way across Charlie's lap as he spoke and gently removed it to my hand. During the bible study of I Corinthians which was entirely in Latvian, I tried to keep my inchworm within the confines of the cover of the Book of Common Prayer--it gave me something to do.

After the bible study, we went into the sanctuary and knelt before the altar for communion. Then, we did what must be universal--coffee and treats put out by the ladies of the church. We heard more stories through translation of the horrors of the Soviet Times. This church was spared the fate of being turned into a factory because the Soviet administrator in their district was kind but the church was used to store fertilizer. What I understood was that the Soviets did not actually close the churches, they taxed them at an extremely high rate and when the taxes could not be paid the churches became the property of the State. Bible study could only legally be conducted in churches and they were closely monitored by KGB. This pastor said that after he first attended church he was no longer allowed to travel.

After the lovely Saturday evening service, we drove up into Estonia for a Sunday service at a church in Paistu where there was another altar painting and another group of believers who have lived through times that I cannot even imagine.

This marked the end of our art tour and our reservation that night was in Otipaa, Estonia, which is the location of a World Cup race in Nordic skiing. We stayed in a guest house that used to be the old Soviet athlete dormitories--can you say ugly? But, it was definitely another experience to add to the mix.

Now, we are back in Riga, Latvia and heading to the airport soon for our flight to Stockholm where my beautiful daughter will meet our plane. She flew in last night and stayed in a hostel at the airport--we will all hop into a rental car and drive to Lake Siljan for a few days of relaxation, conversation and hugging. I can't wait.

White Storks in the Baltic

2009-08-23T11:21:00.007-04:00

This trip has not just been all about visting churches and un-earthing old art--there have been WHITE STORKS everywhere!

Estonia, where we are today, is the northern reach of their breeding area. They are beautiful birds with enormous wingspans. They weigh up to 10 pounds, are about 3-1/2 feet tall and have wing spans that reach almost 8 feet.

Apparently, they bring good luck and seem very sociable, nesting near farm houses.

I got too close to this one and he took flight--I'll spare you the pictures of the struggle to get his 10 pound body off the ground, but once it was off the ground, it was grace all the way.

Soon, I saw him again perched on top of the highest, biggest, sturdiest nest that I have ever seen.

This and that

2009-08-23T01:53:00.009-04:00

After staying in downtown Riga for a couple of nights, we rented a car and moved out into the suburbs to a hotel that we found on Booking.com called Mezaparks. It was located right on a beautiful lake. An added bonus that was not mentioned in the Booking.com information was that it was on the site of the Latvian Olympic Committee grounds. It looked like much of the construction on the facilities had ceased when the economy tanked--there were half-finished dormitories and buildings and the fields were not in the best shape but I saw enough to have me rooting for Latvian athletes at the next Olympics.

Once we checked into the Mezaparks hotel, we drove south to Rundale Palace near the Lithuania border to see an exhibit of 19th centuries portraits. The curator at the art museum had told us that one of Johann Maddaus' paintings from the museum had been loaned to the exhibit. So we drove down expecting to see one portrait and were surprised to find five! While not an art historian, I am self-employed and can imagine that perhaps portrait painting was dependable, steady income.

We toured the rest of the palace and were impressed with the opulent life style of the Russian and German nobility who used the palace prior to the 20th century. I did not find any information on how it survived the years of occupation.

The next night was Riga fest with music and art in all of the plazas. We had spent the day visiting churches and learning about the struggle for freedom and the cost of occupation but set out in the evening to experience the joy of freedom Baltic style.

At 10 p.m. (way past our Maine bedtime), Charlie joined 4000 runners in a 4.5K race through downtown Riga. What fun this all is!

Churches into Factories

2009-08-21T10:23:00.007-04:00

This morning a Lutheran pastor who Charlie had corresponded with came and met us at our hotel to take us to see the site of a church that had one of Johann Maddaus' paintings on its alter. Foreshadowing: note the word had in the previous sentence.

He pointed out a little church in the woods as we drove past it and told us that in 1987, when he was a teenager, he read an article in Soviet Youth magazine about the pastor of this church who knew karate. He indicated that while the article was meant to ridicule the man and his congregation, he was intrigued and set out to visit the church. At that time in Latvia (what the Latvians refer to as Soviet Times) there were few churches and the ones that existed were full of KGB. Only four years later, freedom flowed through his country and they were all free to worship and to speak without fear. This pastor told us that he and many other of the current Latvian Lutheran pastors came out of that congregation.

Today, this man pastors two churches. One that has been restored from its days serving as a factory for the Soviets and the other which has not yet been restored but where services are held twice a month. It is this un-restored church where we believe one of Charlie's great-grandfather's paintings was over the altar. Whether it is in storage with some of the other artifacts saved from churches before they were turned into factories, we were not entirely clear about. I hope so.

Churches into factories
Cemetaries into roads
The systematic destruction of a culture.

Here today, even with the hardships of the difficult economic climate you can feel the energy of a culture pulling things out of the attic and digging their memories out of storage.

Riga Latvia

2009-08-19T14:14:00.010-04:00

In downtown Riga, there is a monument called the Statue of Liberty. It was erected in 1935 during a brief period of Latvian independence and then used as a symbol of hope during subsequent occupations.

Between the World Wars Latvia was independent, but in 1940 the Soviet Union occupied the country before Nazi Germany moved in a year later. Do you remember from Hogan's Hero's the dreaded Russian Front--I think this was it.

After World War II, the Soviet Union controlled the Baltic region until 1991. Tragically, one totalitarian regime after another after another with mass deportations; nationalization of property and the suppression of national culture. It is heartbreaking to think about and just as emotional to look around this city and see the cultural pride and restoration that has occurred in the last 18 years. My parents traveled here in 1992, just after the breakup of the Soviet Union, and the description that they gave of the city does not coincide with what I see a decade and a half later.

Charlie's great grandfather was a moderately well-known artist in Latvia in the late 19th century and we are here on a exploration to learn more about him and to document his body of work for the family. Our first stop this morning was the National Art Museum where the curator showed us the one painting that awaits restoration in their archives. Another painting that has been restored has been loaned to an exhibit in a nearby palace where we will visit tomorrow.

Later in the day, we met with a historian who knew where the artist, Johann Maddaus, was buried.

Apparently, in the 1970's the Soviets began removing the grave markers from the cemetaries and putting roads and parks and buildings where families were buried. The man who helped us find Charlie's family plot told us that cemetaries had been his hobby since he was a child and he would look for the secret graves. That sent a shiver right through me--this man was my age and his childhood memories include mass killings and secret graves and the disappearance of people who dared to question.

The chapel in the picture was stripped and without a roof during the Soviet era and after 1991, the people who returned from exile in Siberia formed its congregation and re-built the church. The cross in the picture is built from pieces of the railroad that carried them to exile.

This trip is definitely turning out to be an eye-opener for me.

Tomorrow we are renting a car for a few days and heading out into the countryside to see more pieces of ancestor art in various churches throughout Latvia and Estonia.

Stockholm--August 17, 2009

2009-08-18T08:50:00.010-04:00

We landed in Stockholm at 7 a.m., Monday morning after a night flying across the Atlantic with two children in the seats behind us alternately kicking our seats and playing with their trays--but it's all good on vacation. For the record, the food on Scandanavian Airlines was yummy. After taking the fast train into the city, we stored our luggage in a locker at the bus station and set out to explore Stockholm.

We first went to Gamla Stan which is the oldest part of the city and dates back to the 13th century. We walked the cobblestone streets and watched the changing of the guard at the Royal Palace. Stockholm has many museums and with our weary brains decided to only sample one choosing the Nobel Museum dedicated to the 800 Nobel laureats.

After walking around for six hours and starting to mumble with exhaustion, we decided that it was time to retrieve our bags and make our way to the ferry terminal. After a few missteps, we managed to find our boat 2-1/2 hours before departure giving us time to settle into our cabin and take a long nap before leaving port and heading out to the Baltic Sea. For several hours as we cruised around the islands leading to the open sea, we were in a parade with ships heading to Helsinki or Tallinn, Estonia or Rostock, Germany. After a night of being gently rocked by Baltic waves, we arrived in Riga Latvia this morning.

Two observations so far.

I think that Europeans have enviable style, hair and body-mass indexes.
Everyone we run into has enough english to communicate with us but we can barely croak thank you in their language. That embarrasses me.

Takin' the long way

2009-08-14T06:04:00.005-04:00

Today begins vacation! Let me tell you, when you are a sole practitioner of a law practice without even a secretary--taking a vacation involves a lot of very stressful preparation--but that part is over--let the fun begin!

Today, Molly and I will drive twelve hours to Pennsylvania where we will retrieve her dorm stuff that Ethan moved out for her last May. It will be my first chance to see Archie and Jaeger since they moved. I can't wait for hugs from my boys.

Then Molly and I will head to DC and move her into the dorm. On Sunday after I kiss my girl goodbye for the start of her junior year, I will drive to Newark where the car will go into long-term parking and Charlie will be waiting in the airport. Then we will board a plane, buckle our seat belts and head off for two weeks of happiness and relaxation. Two weeks????? I am so excited.

First we will go to Latvia and Estonia where we will follow Charlie's family history in the Baltics. Then, we will go to Sweden where my favorite little Peace Corps Volunteer is taking vacation with us.

A friend will be covering my office for me while I am away so to keep up with that, I will need daily internet and if possible will post to my blog from the road. We have the camera, we have guide books, we have reservations at the most charming inns that Latvia, Estonia and Sweden have to offer and we have the promise of two weeks to unwind and explore!

See you soon!

Good manners

2009-08-12T07:06:00.002-04:00

As I write this, the Today Show is showing examples of people who seem to be so angry that they refuse to engage in civil discourse and instead use the first amendment as an excuse for rudeness rather than an instrument for sharing viewpoints.

People can disagree politely, that's what we do in court--our positions are different but we follow the established rules, provide evidence subjected to rigorous cross-examination and a judge makes a decision based on all of the information provided. My feeling in court is that if everyone in that room does his or her job well, the right outcome will occur. I believe that about political discourse as well. Outright lies, scare tactics and rudeness has no place from either side of the debate. We all will be the losers. I think the lessons we learned from our mothers and our grandmothers on politeness, manners and kindness are essential.

So, in the interest of good manners I have some things to learn over the next few days--polite phrases in Swedish, Estonian and Latvian:

Latvian

Hello	Labdien
Hi	Chau
Thank you	Paldies
Please	Ludzu
I'm sorry	Atvainojiet
My name is ...	Mani sauc ...
I'm from ...	Es esmu no ...

Estonian

jah - yes
ei - no

palun - please; you're welcome
aitäh - thanks
tänan - thank you
tänan väga - thank you very much

tere - hi, hello
tervist - hello

Swedish

Hello: Hej.

Goodbye: Adjö/Hej då.

Yes: Ja.

No: Nej.

Please: Snälla/Vänligen.

Thank you: Tack.

That's fine: Det är bra.

You are welcome: Varsågod

Excuse me (sorry): Ursäkta mig/Förlåt

Killington Mountain

2009-08-11T06:42:00.006-04:00

In Vermont, there is a ski area called "The Beast of the East" located on Killington Mountain. Charlie had skiied it in his younger days and I had climbed up the ski trails a couple of summers ago while my sons rode mountain bikes on them but last weekend we decided to climb it from the west on the Bucklin Ridge Trail.

We have only climbed a two 4000 footers in Vermont, but were struck both times by the softness and ease of the trails. While parts of the trail are as steep as the ones in New Hampshire and Maine, the forest has more hardwood and the trail has more humus making the footing soft and a pleasure to walk on.

For this trail we hiked in along a stream for two miles before turning away from the stream and beginning our climb. Along the way we met a couple coming down with their seven week baby on his first hike.

Eventually our trail merged with the Appalachian Trail and the Long Trail and became much steeper as we headed up the summit cone. I'm not sure how the mom and the baby did the rock scrambling part but apparently they did.

When we emerged onto the peak, it was as if we were in a hurricane--the winds were fierce. Charlie walked around taking pictures of the ski area and the mountain bikers while I engaged in my favorite summit activity--a rock nap.

My 4000 footer totals stand at

Vermont 2 out of the 5
Maine 7 out of 14
New Hampshire 46 out of 48

That will be all the New England hiking for August--we're heading to Sweden, Latvia and Estonia this coming weekend but September and October are great hiking months in New England--so there will be more peaks ahead.

Lessons to learn

2009-08-10T19:55:00.002-04:00

Have you ever had the opportunity to be kind to someone and maybe you took the opportunity or maybe you didn't--then later--sometimes not much later something terrible happens to that person and you wonder whether or not you took all the opportunity available to be kind when you could.

Many years ago, one of my children went on a scout campout--the first one the troop had gone on--a few of the parents went but the scouts paired up and slept in tents away from their parents. My child came home on Sunday afternoon disgusted with his tent mate because he had left their tent during the night and gone to sleep with his mother. As we sat on the kitchen floor amidst all of his campfire scented camping gear and talked about it, I pointed out that perhaps it was the first night away from home and nighttime wood sounds could be scary. My child was having none of that, though. He was sure that he would probably be looking for another friend the next day at school.

The next day after school, he came in, dropped his backpack and sat again on the floor, his back against the cupboards and cried and cried and cried. When he could finally talk, he told me that the tentmate friend had left school early and after he left the teacher talked to all of the children in the class and told them that the little boy's father had been diagnosed with advanced lung cancer the Friday before. He had only a few months to live. Of course, that was why the little boy had gone to sleep in the tent with his mother. What sad news to get at 9 years old on your first cub scout camping trip.

Over the next few months, my son was a good friend. I was proud of him for being the friend that the little boy needed but I think he has always remembered his mistaken impression from the camping trip and I think that mistake has been one of the things that has made him the fine man that he is. A good lesson to learn--and how sad to have to learn it.

A few weeks ago, I had an opportunity to be kind to a lady. I think that I was but I don't think that I was as patient and kind and good as I wish that I had been. I had a terrible toothache and a dentist appointment scheduled for later and probably rushed our time together. Today, her life has changed forever--splashed across the pages of the paper--nothing that anyone could have expected or anticipated and if I get another chance to be kind to her I will be patient and kind and good but how I desperately wish that I had maximized the last opportunity before her world fell apart.

Something fun to share

2009-08-07T06:51:00.002-04:00

Charlie and I are heading to Vermont to climb Mt. Killington. But before I left, I wanted to share this exciting link from daughter Sara about her hike up Mt. Olympus.

Mt. Moosilauke

2009-08-06T18:27:00.008-04:00

I have this peculiar affliction that causes me to not pay attention to directional details when I am with a man--when I'm with two men--forget it--I couldn't read a map or find where I parked the car if you paid me. I am not proud of this affliction. When I'm alone, I know where I am and where I'm going and how to get there but throw a couple of good men into the mix and I just follow them up the trail. Somehow I completely missed this sign warning of the difficulties of the Beaver Brook Trail up Mt. Moosilauke--my 46th New Hampshire 4000 footer.

So up we went. Soon after we started hiking, we came upon a beautiful cascading waterfall. The trail became very steep at that point and as we continued climbing beside what seemed to be an unending series of cascading waterfalls, the grade did not ease up. Fortunately, the falls were so beautiful that we stopped frequently for pictures and for my heart and lungs to catch up.

Mt. Moosilauke is a large mountain on the western fringe of the White Mountains. There are many trails on the mountain and I am not sure why Charlie chose this one but despite the difficulty it was so beautiful that within a breathless mile I declared it my favorite trail ever. After a mile and a half we had ascended 2000 vertical feet--a grade of about 25%. The trail continued around the shoulder of two other mountains and gained an additional 1100 feet over 2.3 miles--a much more comfortable steepness ratio before emerging onto the bald summit of Mt. Moosilauke.

It was a beautiful day and a new favorite mountain. The views extended 360 degrees into Vermont and east to the Presidentials. Only two more New Hampshire 4000 footers for me to complete and it seems likely that I will get them climbed this year. I have lost hope on completing the New England 4000 footers in 2009 as the rain kept us from our Baxter State Park reservations in July and the two summits that I needed from there. But, the mountains aren't going anywhere--I'll be very happy with completing New Hampshire and perhaps Vermont in 2009 and completing Maine's peaks in 2010.

Hamlet

2009-08-06T05:47:00.005-04:00

Tucked into a small town in central Maine is the Theater at Monmouth which each year brings Shakespeare's plays alive on the stage. Charlie and I try to go at least once over the summer.

Earlier this week we went to see Hamlet. My oldest daughter lived, breathed, dreamed and spoke fluent Hamlet throughout her sophomore year of high school and still counts it as her favorite play. Charlie, as a high school english teacher, teaches the play each year. So, over the years, in spite of myself, I have had quite a bit of passive Hamlet exposure.

The performance that we enjoyed on Tuesday night was very good and what struck me is how very familiar the words are--and how familiar the thoughts behind the words.

Here are some of my favorites:

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy"

"Brevity is the soul of wit"

"Madness in great ones must not unwatched go"

"More matter, with less art"

"This above all, to thine own self be true"

What is especially interesting, is how often we hear some of the lines in everyday speech, perhaps with the speaker not even realizing where they originated.

Putting the GUSTO in August!

2009-08-05T17:50:00.012-04:00

I woke up one morning to an email from daughter, Sara.

MOM! WHAT IS WITH THE LACK OF BLOG POSTING.
come on!! i keep waiting for an update but it never comes.... :( :(

Oops, sorry!

In way of explanation, July, 2009, was something we endured in western Maine and while there were tidbits of greatness and personal joy, mostly it was depressing and trying to blog about it in an entertaining and positive manner seemed too daunting. Our precipitation total was at least three times the normal July amount--almost every day and night had the soundtrack of raindrops and the need for sweaters. But, it wasn't a total bust--we have the greenest August grass that I have ever seen AND last weekend when we climbed Mt. Moosilauke we climbed alongside a waterfall that was breathtaking (well maybe it was the climb that took my breath--but the waterfall was full of water and just beautiful!)

We also had a bumper raspberry crop--I froze 12 quarts for future pies, baked several pies from fresh raspberries and we ate--maybe a million berries--maybe more. Enough are still coming in for my morning yogurt, but by the weekend we will start cleaning out the old canes and trimming back the new growth for winter.

The bees seem to be doing well, but as a first year beekeeper, I can't be sure. The rain has surely hindered them in their nectar gathering and I worry that they won't have enough honey to make it through the winter--or to share with us. After a few months of watching me tend the hives, my Dad couldn't resist any longer and has joined me in caring for the bees. I love sharing this with him. Mom took the picture with her telephoto lense--but I have a feeling she'll be asking for her own hat and veil before too long!

Today, our winter wealth and security was dumped into the driveway--six cords of wood. We (and when I saw we, clearly I mean Charlie) will be splitting and stacking probably right up until we need to use it.

I will try and be a better blogger, Sara, sorry to disappoint--future topics might include

what it felt like when the quiet other daugher asked me to share a lobster risotto.
what it feels like to still see youngest son out of the corner of my eye--walking up the driveway or around a corner in the hall--but, of course, he isn't there, he has left the nest and the state and the region and is not walking up the driveway or around the corner in the hall but finding his own way 600 miles from home.
planning a trip to Europe to see the not-so-quiet peace corps daughter.

Thanks for missing my posts :-)

Beeing Productive

2009-07-12T16:49:00.006-04:00

The bees are busy and happy now that the weather has turned to sunshine. Washington hive is ready for me to add the honey super. The honey super is the layer that will contain the honey for harvest.

Ever since the rain stopped on Thursday, the bees have been working hard--flying out and coming back to the hive with their little pollen baskets full. The worker bees have a short lifespan so some of these workers have probably never gathered pollen before these last few days.

When the bees die, they fall down to the bottom of the hive and are swept out by the workers and their little bee bodies are carried off. One morning during the height of our rainy spell, my mother called me, "Oh Beth, something terrible has happened--all of your bees are dead." She had noticed that there were no bees flying in or out of the hive and then noticed on the little lip of the hive (what we call the porch) there were piles of bee carcasses. I finished up my office work and then headed over to investigate worried that both my hives had fallen victim to too little sunshine. My dad and I lit the smoker and opened Washington hive. It was full of busy bees building comb and feeding larvae and the situation was the same in Madison hive. We surmised that the weather had just been too nasty for the bees on funeral patrol to do their job. A brief appearance of the sun and the porch was all cleaned up.

Beavers and bees--I guess I am partial to creatures with a work ethic and a commitment to neatness.

Tecumseh

2009-07-11T18:22:00.004-04:00

Charlie and I got up early, packed our packs, poured travel mugs of coffee and then drove the 2-1/2 hours to Waterville Valley, New Hampshire and the Mt. Tecumseh trailhead arriving exactly at 9:00 to meet his son Caleb who came up from Massachusetts to hike with us.

We laughed when we got out of the cars because we all had on identical outfits of tan hiking pants and black fleece pullovers. Caleb started hiking with us a couple of years ago. He was trying to quit smoking and was advised by his doctor to try doing activities that he would not ordinarily do. He called us up to see what we were doing that weekend because he was quite sure whatever we were up to was not what he would ordinarily do. We were going hiking up the Kinsmans and so he drove up and met us--chain smoking his last cigarettes as he drove the 3 hours. His smoking habit comes and goes but he has managed to hike 11 mountains with us and one on his own so he's on the way to completing his list, too. We just need to find him a nice, intelligent, attractive, funny, 20-something female hiking companion.

I really enjoyed the hike up Tecumseh--it was a mostly a moderate grade with some flat spots where we just walked through the woods. There were two super-steep stretches up the two summit cones. We reached the west summit first and then had to descend steeply and traverse another flat spot before heading up the summit cone of the main summit which comes in at 4003 feet above sea level. The view was nice, although I guess we missed the best viewpoint by not coming up from the ski area. Oh well, we'll have to go back some day. We ate our lunch on the top and looked over at the Tripyramids and recalled our hike there on a hot July day two years ago.

The hike down included re-navigating the steep section up to the west summit but from then on it was all downhill. Once we were to the car, I got my clean clothes out of the trunk and went looking for a sheltered area in the creek to clean up. The cold water sure did feel good--those cold water creek cool downs are the best part of a summer hike.

What's left in New Hampshire
Liberty
Flume
Bondcliff
Moosilauke
Carrigain

Tomorrow, Tecumseh

2009-07-10T17:36:00.012-04:00

Somewhere off to the southwest of Mt. Willey where Molly and I hiked on monday is the least of the New Hampshire 4000 footers called Mt. Tecumseh. I know that it is a true favorite of Tom and Atticus--they (well, Tom, I presume) wrote about it here. I have never climbed it and tomorrow, I think, will be the day.

There are 67 mountains above 4000 feet in New England. 48 of them are in New Hampshire, 14 are in Maine and 5 are in Vermont. In my younger days, I climbed some of them and some of those many times (Washington, Camels Hump and Mansfield) but that was before I began the quest--so anything that I climbed before June 21, 2005, does not count.

On the morning of June 21, 2005, I was on the last day of a short vacation in North Conway, New Hampshire, with Molly and Archie. We had driven over and stayed in a hotel for a couple of nights while the kids took a rock climbing course with International Mountain Climbing School.

That last morning, we sat in a Friendly's restaurant eating breakfast and I gave Molly and Archie a couple of options of what we could do with our day--a water park or go for a hike. They both immediately said they wanted to go climb Mt. Washington. Well, I had climbed Mt. Washington several times but not in recent years and, in fact, I wasn't really in very good shape for climbing up the tallest mountain in the northeast--especially as an impetuous decision over pancakes--but, OK!!

So, we drove to the trailhead and headed up. They beat me up by a good margin but waited at the top and then we headed down--they beat me down by a long shot, too, but by the time we met at the car I knew that I would find the peace and healing and strength that I had been looking for in the mountains.

Molly had her learner's permit and so I let her drive home since my legs were very sore--we took a shortcut down a road (and I use the word loosely) called the Jefferson Notch Road. It was full of huge potholes and our little VW Jetta bottomed out several times. Between my exhaustion and Molly's inexperience, we did not notice the oil light. We had ruptured the oil pan on a pothole. The engine seized and that was the end of the VW Jetta. But, that worked out too--I decided to buy a car better suited to my new life as a lady of the mountains and we picked out a Ford Escape.

A few weeks later, I climbed up to Mt. Madison by myself. It was the first time that I had hiked alone and it was fine--I really liked it. A few weeks after that I climbed Mt. Lafayette and Mt. Lincoln--Ethan and Molly went with me on that long hike--although they were jackrabbits who I only saw at pre-arranged catchup spots. Not long after that I hiked Mt. Jefferson alone and then Mt. Eisenhower and then in a memorable hike in October, I hiked to Mt. Monroe along the historic Crawford Path. The Red Sox were playing the Yankees that Sunday and as I hiked I met up with two men who were hiking with a radio on their backpack--we hiked together and listened to the game as all the world stretched below us dressed in red and gold. At that moment, I knew that I was experiencing what for me was perfect bliss.

There were many more hikes throughout that fall and winter some in New Hampshire and some in Maine. Mostly I hiked alone, but sometimes with one of the kids and once, in the winter, with Ethan's entire fraternity up Cannon Mountain. Then in the summer of 2006, Charlie appeared back in my life and we got married and started hiking together. In September of 2006, we hiked over the Wildcats and into Carter Notch, spent the night in the hut and then climbed up to Carter Dome the next morning where we met Tom and Atticus. At that point, I didn't know much about peak bagging but Tom told us about his adventures with Atticus climbing the 48 New Hampshire peaks and I really was intrigued. When we got to a trail junction, we had a choice. Either head back to the car or take another trail so that we could summit South Carter--a mountain with no view and no reason to be climbed other than to check it off a list. Either we were peak baggers or we weren't. We took the trail for South Carter and so began the checkmarks.

So here I am, closing in on the end of the list. I have six more in New Hampshire, 7 more in Maine and 3 more in Vermont.

Tomorrow, we will check Tecumseh and I will strategize on how to get the rest based on the weather and my work schedule. I would like to finish the New Hampshire ones before Molly goes back to college on August 16 so she can share the last New Hampshire peak with me since she was there for the first one.

And that peace, strength and healing that I suspected I would find in the mountains--it was there.

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

2009-07-09T09:43:00.003-04:00

It is glorious out today--the sun is finally shining and the weekend looks like it is going to come through for us. Now the only decision is which mountain to climb. Sewing, jigsaw puzzles, woodstove--that was so two days ago.

Rainy Days and Sundays, Mondays, Tuedays....

2009-07-07T16:55:00.006-04:00

Please note the juxtaposition of the verdant growth of raspberry canes outside of the window and the roaring fire in the woodstove. Another rainy day in the 50's in northern New England and we have only FIVE pieces of wood left in the barn--I guess we'll have to start burning books and furniture soon. I try to recall summer, but the memory is proving elusive.

So, we do what we can.

Molly just finished a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of sunflowers and I gave into an impulse purchase and bought 8 yards of fabric at Walmart without any idea of what to do with it. But, you see, the fabric contains outlines of all of the states with their attendant flowers and birds. Ideas are welcome. So far I have come up with curtains for the bathroom and placemats but that still leaves me with about 5 yards of unplanned fabric. I'm thinking about a skirt and matching handbag--is it really tacky to wear a skirt that matches your bathroom curtains and your placemats?

Yesterday, Molly and I decided to brave the weather and head off onto the trails in order to climb Mt. Willey and check another 4000 footer off the list. Our original plan was to hike to a mountain called Bondcliff--that one is an 18 mile hike and so we needed to get going really early in the morning in order to get out of the woods by dark. When I woke Molly up at 5, she suggested that perhaps another shorter hike that would allow her a few hours more sleep would be a better idea. I was happy that she gave me an excuse to change our plans, hiking to Bondcliff in questionable weather with high water at the river crossings was probably not a great idea. So, Mt. Willey it was.

Mt. Willey is the southernmost peak in a range of three 4000 footers at the eastern edge of the Pemigewassset Wilderness in New Hampshire's White Mountains. The day was rainy and the rocks were slippery and wet but there is no place that I would have preferred to be.

Is there summer out there somewhere?

2009-06-23T05:17:00.008-04:00

Oh, it just won't stop raining.

It truly does not feel like the last week of June around here and while temperatures in the 60's suit me just fine, I need to see the sun!!!

And so do my bees.

The bees are doing well, building comb and filling it with honey and when they are able to fly out of their hives they have a smorgasbord of nectar awaiting them but they need a stretch of sunny days.

Other than the bees, I have two other summer projects and both require dry weather.

Project #1
In 2005, I began hiking the mountains above 4000 feet in New England with the hope of finishing the 67 mountains by my 50th birthday in 2009. Well, this is it and so far 23 days into June, I have not added a single one to my total. Last year was not a big year for climbing accomplishment either as we had rainy weekend after rainy weekend. I consider myself a fair weather hiker and a viewbagger more than a peakbagger--translation: I don't like to hike in bad weather.

In Maine, I still have 6 of the 14 to climb including two in Baxter State Park. One of the Baxter mountains is called North Brother--I got within 2/10 of a mile of the summit of North Brother last summer but turned back in the rain and slippery conditions--gotta try again.

In New Hampshire, I still have 7 of the 48 to climb. Two of those mountains can be combined into one hike, so with six hiking days I should be able to finish up those.

In Vermont, I still have three of the five which I can do in two hiking days and hope to accomplish my goal at the summit of Mt. Mansfield on my birthday in September IF it ever stops raining and I can get out on the trails.

Project #2
The beaver lodge and dam that I watched last fall, seems to be abandoned. If we get a dry stretch and the water level goes down in the pond, I want to try accessing the lodge with a flashlight and camera in a ziplock bag--that adventure will definitely be bloggable! So far my mother, my daughter and my husband are adamantly against this idea. Molly at least agreed to stand on the bank with a cell phone ready to all 911 to report her mother attacked by rabid beavers but so far my husband and my mother have not signed on even for that duty. My father, thinks it's a great idea although his idea is to take the top off while I insist on accessing it through their underwater tunnel even if I have to enlarge it a bit. I don't want to make it too hard for them to come back and make it their home again.

Some sunny days, please?

Summer Solstice Snapper

2009-06-22T05:41:00.008-04:00

Yesterday Charlie was sitting at the dining room table writing a paper for a class he's taking and he looked up and noticed a big piece of something in the road. As he watched, the big piece of something made its way across the road and into the yard of the abandoned house next door.

He and the cats went out to check it out and discovered a large common snapping turtle looking for someplace to lay her eggs. There are a lot of sandy spots closer to the river than our yard so it was surprising to see a turtle prowling around. It's been a very, very rainy Spring/Summer and it could be that all of the lower spots close to the river were too wet. Who knows, but in 100 days, I'll be watching for a crop of baby snapping turtles trying to find their way to the river.

I had been off visiting my parents during the turtle invasion and when I got home Charlie had the kitties safely inside and was outside watching it. He dubbed it the summer solstice snapper.

From what I have read about snapping turtles, the mother will travel great distances from her muddy bottom home to find the right spot to lay her eggs. Once she finds the right spot, she will moisten the ground with her urine, dig the hole with her powerful hind legs, lay her eggs and then smooth the nest out by sliding over it with her smooth underside (plastron). Apparently, this nesting time is dangerous for everyone involved. Racoons and foxes often dig up the nests and eat the eggs and mother turtles traveling from their safe water homes must cross roads exposing themselves to predators and cars and cajun cooks looking for the title ingredient in turtle soup.

I was able to watch the turtle for a little while as she made her way to wherever she was going. She had a very long tail that was thick at the base (apparently the thick part of the tail is the tastiest meat for turtle soup afficionados). When she would stop and stretch out her neck it was very long. She could draw both the thick part of her tail and her head deep inside her shell.

Snapping turtles mothers (like queen honeybees) can hold the sperm inside of them for more than one season, releasing it when necessary to fertilize her eggs. A few weeks ago, Seabrooke wrote a very interesting piece about snapping turtle eggs here.

So, one hundred days takes us to late September--not very much time for the little turtles to make it to the river and burrow into the mud before the winter.

Blasts from the past

2009-06-20T20:02:00.004-04:00

Charlie's son Jacob recently graduated from Northeastern University and one of his professors was former Massachusetts Governor and former presidential candidate Dukakis. I don't know where Jacob got this Dukakis bobblehead but somehow it made its way to our kitchen counter.

It reminded me of a funny story that daughter Sara told me. When she was in college in DC, one of her friends applied for a White House internship and hit a snag on the security clearance. When the young man asked for clarifiation on the problem, he was told that the security investigation revealed that he had caused a disturbance at the White House in 1989. Well, the aspiring intern would have been 2 years old in 1989.

Further investigation and a phone call to his parents provided clarity on how a toddler could wreak such havoc in the White House that he would be banned from a internship during his college years.

Apparently, during the election of 1988, this young man's parents had been Dukakis supporters and had taken their little son to rallies and other events where he repeatedly heard people chant "Dukakis for President"

After the 1988 election that sent Governor Dukakis back to academia and the first President Bush to the White House, the family of the young man was on a vacation in Washington DC and on a White House tour. When the precocious tot heard the word President being bandied about during the tour, his memory circuits kicked in and he immediately began the chant "Dukakis for President, Dukakis for Presdient, Dukakis for President". The embarrassed familiy was asked to leave and the incident became part of their family folklore only to re-surface when the young man tried to intern in the White House of another President Bush. The Secret Service cleared it all up and he did complete his internship and had a pretty good story to tell over lunch.

Do you have any presidential memorabilia sitting around to make you laugh and remember?

......and they're off

2009-06-19T06:18:00.008-04:00

So after months of working very hard to dig out from under the consequences of adolescent behavior, Archie graduated a couple of weeks ago and yesterday he and his buddy, Brent, and their cat, Jaeger, hit the road.

The truth is that there isn't much in a small town like this to hold young people and all that Archie seemed able to find for a while was trouble. And, once he found trouble, trouble found him and once that happened it was a spiral that was not leading anywhere good. He put a lot of work into turning it around and showed more courage in changing behavior than I would have at his age but the die was cast, he needed to get out of town.

His plan had always been not to have a plan--just to drive until he ran out of gas money and then stop, pitch a tent and work until there was enough money for a few more tanks of gas but as the time got closer a plan started to emerge.

Archie's big brother is an engineer in central Pennsylvania with one of the coolest jobs e ver. He does inspections on bridges while hanging from a harness or diving under water and checks out metal in all sorts of other situations that appeal to young men and scare the heck out of their mothers. He asked Archie if he would like to move down there and live and work in their large college town with the possibility of training to assist with some of the inspections. That call came on a day in late April when all of us needed a boost. Archie's latest brush with trouble had been in the newspaper in an article that had crushed us both with the unfairness of the reporting and the implications. So, the call from Ethan in Pennsylvania tossed out a lifeline.

Yesterday was the day and there were nothing but smiles to be seen around here. Well, there was one very anxious little tiger cat who was afraid of being left.
Good luck, guys. Be safe, be happy and remember to call home.

On the Big Rock Mountain

2009-06-14T18:09:00.011-04:00

On some of the highest mountains in northern New England and in New York's Adirondacks the latitude and the altitude combine to provide an environment for alpine plants that flower in June.

Each June since moving here ten years ago, I have wanted to make my way to the Alpine Garden on the upper slopes of Mt. Washington and each June for the last ten years other things took priority.

This year, the Maine chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club offered a guided hike on the second Saturday in June for the first ten people to sign up--I signed up and on a leap of faith snagged a place for my mother on the hike, too. My mom is 75 and has had various physical ailments over the last few years but she loves flowers and when we were all younger she taught me to love the mountains--so with six weeks until the hike and with a promise from the group leader that it would be a slow and gentle meander through the garden I asked my mom if she would like to go. She jumped at the chance and has spent the last six weeks walking and getting into shape. At the last minute, Molly was able to join us, too, so yesterday we drove up the Mt. Washington auto road to a point just below the summit, parked our car and navigated a short steep section leading to the alpine garden.

We saw Diapensia everywhere. They grow in mats that spread very slowly. A misplaced footstep can wipe out 20 years worth of growth. The pathway is carefully marked with cairns and all along the slopes the ground is littered with pincushion mats of little while flowers.

When we weren't bending our necks to look at the tiny flowers on the ground, we gazed out over the beautiful mountains.

My mom at 75, my daughter at 20 and me turning 50 this year; the rare alpine plants and the magnificent beauty. What a day.

I'm lichen it

2009-06-06T20:26:00.010-04:00

Today I spent the first day of the rest of my life walking through the woods with my young cousin.

He is visiting from Texas and staying with my parents so we went walking through their woods to get the lay of the land.

While walking through an area that I don't hike over very often, we noticed some red color under foot in an area of where the path was soft with decaying wood.

The red is the spore of a lichen called British Soldier Lichen (Cladonia cristatella).

June 5

2009-06-05T20:30:00.006-04:00

This date has been on the calendar for months and I have hardly been able to focus beyond it. But today--the sun rose, the birds sang, and Archie graduated from high school.

And all the people said........Amen.

Happy Birthday, Dad

2009-06-04T06:00:00.004-04:00

Today is my Dad's birthday. Here is a picture of him hugging his youngest granddaughter, Molly, last night just after her return from Europe. He went to Europe when he was young, too. Uncle Sam bought him a ticket--although not on Lufthansa--a ship as I remember from the bedtime stories. He traveled everywhere he could get to from his base in Germany and raised my brother and me on stories of castles and rivers, fields of tulips and windmills along with many other stories of his life and adventures or the lives and adventures of which he had read. Besides being a genuinely good man, my Dad is a master storyteller. When our family is together--food and words are all that any of us want.

As I write this, I don't know how I can talk about my dad in a short blog post but it does give me an idea for trying my hand at a longer writing project.

He is 76 today--he was born in the Depression and lived in southern Louisiana, where his father was an oil executive, but with family roots and familial longing farther north in the black dirt of western Kentucky.

In his rebellious teens, he was sent to a boarding school in southern Mississippi where he met a pretty, talented scholarship student who is still the love of his life 54 years later.

As a young engineer in the late 1950's, he tried to convince his boss of the need for computers--rebuffed by management, he studied them on his own and was a pioneer in the field.

In the 1960's when we lived in an upscale neighborhood in a snooty town in Massachusetts he put his engineer's curiosity into practice and bought a pipe organ from an Episcopal church that was "upgrading" to an electronic organ and installed the 15,000 pipe pipe organ in our basement.

In the 1980's he and my mom were able to return to their beloved South and bought a home and built extensive gardens. In 1999, when I headed to a new life in a remote corner of the country, they sold their home and followed me to Maine--I couldn't have made it without them. Within a month they had more friends than people who have lived here their entire lives.

Today, he and my mom are going to drive to Boston to pick up my cousin's son who is flying in from Texas to spend some time in the woods of Maine with the best man in the world.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.

The last page

2009-05-30T07:29:00.009-04:00

I'm an early riser and part of my ritual each morning is pushing the button on the coffee pot that I loaded the night before. This morning when I got up at 5 a.m. the button was already on and the coffee was almost all gone. Next to the pot was a note. Archie had been up late painting the kitchen floor and had needed the coffee to stay awake.

Well, he was painting the floor because his big brother Ethan is coming in this weekend and we are trying to spruce things up a bit. Ethan is coming in this weekend because we are embarking on graduation week around here and that brings me to my story.

I noticed that the note was written on the last page of the note book.

Many years ago our lives changed. My children's father and I got divorced. It was a rotten time for everyone involved and none of us like to talk about it and I'm not going to now. But, suffice to say, our lives changed and when lives change sometimes we want to hang on to things--maybe because we are afraid of more change or maybe in order to validate that we are alive--who knows what the psychological motivation is but one thing that we began doing was keeping a notebook in the kitchen drawer that was dedicated only to notes to one another. No more notes written on scraps of paper and thrown away. I have ten notebooks filled with notes from 2002 to the present.

"I'm at soccer practice can you bring me gatorade"

"I'm at the movies with MH"

"Can you wake me up at 9?"

"Supper's at 6, we're having chicken"

None of the notes were significant. None of those notes changed anyone's life or will make it into the archives of a university but they are the notes of our lives for the past 7 years. When one notebook would get full, we would start another and I will keep them all forever.

And Archie's note from last night--on the last page of the notebook--the youngest child a week from graduation and leaving home. It feels significant somehow--a little bit like a big hug saying we made it.

Franklin County

2009-05-28T07:25:00.003-04:00

As I have written about before, I handle most of the defense work for juveniles in Franklin County. In our county, juvenile court is held for half a day ten times a year--I guess that probably translates into the pleasant fact that there is not a lot of juvenile crime in the area. That is a good thing.

But whether or not it is prevalent or serious by big city standards, it is almost always heart-breaking. The purpose of the juvenile statutes is to rehabilitate and to that end I think of those of us who are part of the legal process as a team. The Judge who remembers the kids before her and who has high standards for their behavior both in her courtroom and in between court appearances, the Juvenile probation officer who knows each child individually and helps to formulate and execute a plan to assist them to help themselves, the District Attorney who has a good sense of humor and can be tough or tender as the situation warrants, and me the motherly defense attorney.

So, today is juvenile day. While I don't always look forward to dealing with the situations that the juveniles have managed to get themselves into, I always look forward to working with such a dedicated team and attempting to help untangle young lives.

Our District Attorney was featured several years ago in an award winning indie movie called Knee Deep. You can watch the trailer here. The movie is an extremely artistic documentary of a very unusual attempted murder case It has been on PBS a few times--I highly recommend this movie both for its content, its artistic value and the sociological issues that it raises.

Adventures with Jaeger--Part 2

2009-05-27T05:47:00.008-04:00

So after retrieving the kayak from the Androscoggin, the boys put it in our barn and waited for the snow to melt.

It wasn't long before the snow melted and Archie and Brent were taking the kayaks on trips down the river with the cat along for companionship. Brent is Archie's best friend and has been living with us for the past three months and as honorary family member, I've been letting him use my kayak. My kayak is slightly bigger than Archie's and has a watertight storage container built into the bow. Jaeger seemed to like the excursions, he would sit in a lap or if he wanted to see the scenery, he would perch on the bow. The boys would stop often and go onto the bank for him to eat and drink.

One day after school, Archie decided that they should take the kayaks up the Webb River and float down to Dixfield. The Webb is a smaller river with more rocks and rapids and flows into the Androscoggin near our house.

So up the river they went in a friend's pickup truck and they put in just over the Carthage line. The water was flat and peaceful, the day was sunny, Jaeger spent time jumping from the bow of one kayak to the bow of the other. One time he spotted a flock of Canada Geese on the shore and jumped into the water, swam 20 feet to shore and chased the much larger, meaner and heavier birds. It was an idyllic Spring day--two boys, a river and a cat.

Then the water started to get a little choppy. As a precaution, they opened the watertight hatch on Brent's kayak and without the top on put Jaeger in. He peered out from his hatch as the boys paddled.

Then just as they were about to enter a rapid, Brent shut the hatch. Somehow as he followed Archie through the rapid, he capsized and was dumped out to navigate the rapid without a kayak seriously injuring his knee on the rocks. Archie who was in front, looked back, saw the capsized boat and his friend going through the rapids and realizeded that Jaeger was stuck inside the capsized boat. He left his friend to fend for himself and swam back upstream to rescue the cat. The kayak was jammed upside down between some rocks. He wasn't able to right the kayak from the downstream side as the vacuum pressure was too strong, but he managed to get to the upstream side and break the seal and right the boat. He opened the hatch and Jaeger popped right into his arms, right as rain.

So, Jaeger was safe. Archie put him to sit on a rock in the middle of the river while he got the empty kayak back to shore and then went to check on Brent who had pulled himself to the opposite shore. Brent was not able to move his knee (and even now 4 weeks later is still limping). It took Archie 20 minutes to get Brent across the river where they realized that both of their cell phones had been submerged. Jaeger was retrieved from the rock and left to stay with Brent while Archie hiked off to find a house and a phone and someone with a truck to get them all home.

What was there to say as they shared this story with me? Words failed me, I could only listen in amazement and relief that everyone was alright (with the exception of Brent's knee).

I like the part of the story best, where the water is calm and the cat is swimming and chasing Canada Geese --pretty music in my mind for those scenes but the rapids and the injuries feel like they are accompanied by loud dissonant chords.

All is well that ends well, I guess.

Jaeger still canoes and kayaks and goes fishing, camping and hiking. He is their companion and not at all an ordinary cat.

A weekend delayed

2009-05-26T19:44:00.008-04:00

Months ago, while winter held sway in the hills of western Maine, one of my favorite writers and her spouse (both of whom my spouse and I are proud to call friends) planned to visit and shake off the doldrums of their inhospitable city in our lovely winter woods. We e-mailed and phoned and planned for the weekend, but at the last minute, had to reschedule due to a persistent flu in our house. Sadly, while we coughed our way back to health, they were experiencing great sadness due to a careless driver who did not respect a crosswalk. Emergency rooms, surgery and physical therapy have been their unwelcome companions since.

Finally, though, an e-mail last week. Beth, we are well enough to travel, the cast is off his arm and he can drive. Perhaps we could come to Maine?

Yes, of course, please do come to visit

We had a perfect weekend of talking and walking and seeing sights that were beautiful and healing. We ate good food and laughed at each other's jokes and stories.

On Sunday morning, he decided to shed a vestige of the accident and the long hair and beard fell victim to a trimmer purchased at the local Walmart. We sprinkled the beard hair under the bushes for the birds to take and weave into their nests--little babies will sleep in the softness of something that had once been a sign of despair

The Adventures of Jaeger--Part I

2009-05-23T06:43:00.007-04:00

I hesitate to post this because I fear criticism both of my parenting skills and my responsible pet owner skills, but any one who has ever had a particular kind of son will understand--for those of you who haven't had the experience--well, enjoy not having to color your hair :-)

In March, I introduced you to Archie's funny little yellow cat. They are both still here and I don't know when I have ever loved an animal more than I love this one. My affection for the little cat is all wrapped up with my love for my son and the fact that this little creature who is all sinew and devotion wrapped up in a suit of orange stripes has been faithfully by Archie's side for several months.

I don't want to go through the events that have necessitated my monthly trips to the hairdresser for root touchup, some of the hard and sad times are alluded to in earlier posts but I do believe that it is safe now to exhale and the little yellow cat is a big part of it.

Hmmm, where to start. Maybe I should start with the story about the acquisition of the kayak and while the kitty stayed at home for the execution of that adventure, I am sure he was a co-conspirator in the planning stages.

In early March the rivers of Maine are swollen with snow melt and big chunks of ice as they start to carry the winter's precipitation to the ocean. We live on the Androscoggin River which drains the Northern White Mountains before flowing through Dixfield. Along with the snow melt and the ice chunks, the river also brings anything that is in its path--docks, trees, tires, bicycles, iceshacks, boats, whatever is in its way. There are several islands in the river as it flows through Dixfield and one day Archie and his friends noticed that on one of the islands there was a really nice kayak that had washed downstream.

Well, finders keepers, right?

So one cold March day after school Archie and his friends gathered on the river bank. Archie stripped down to his boxer shorts and with a kayak paddle in his hands planned how to swim out to the island. When I later asked him if any of the buddies on shore had a cell phone, he said "Yes, but they were mostly being used for video". There was still about 3 feet of snow along the river bank so he went upstream from the island, and slid down the snow bank into the river--in his boxers with the paddle in his hand.

He said the water was really cold. Really?

So, he swam and was taken by the current down to the island. Perfect execution of the plan so far--except.

When he got to the island, he realized that there were many trees that had also been swept downstream and the kayak was on top of them--so barefoot in his boxers with a kayak paddle he climbed up through 10 feet of downed trees and got to the kayak which he triumphantly paddled to shore. The boys then took the kayak to the nearby elementary school and used it for a toboggan and slid down the hills. I particularly like the juxtaposition of swimming and sledding in one short time frame.

By nighttime, they made their way home with the kayak which now rests in our barn in between adventures.

Now, if any of you northern Androscoggin watershed readers lost a pretty blue kayak over the winter, I don't want to hear about it.

I am an IDIOT

2009-05-17T12:29:00.004-04:00

Have you ever made a really big mistake in judging someone and then felt really, really stupid? Oh, that would be me right about now. Fortunately, the person is so good and decent that she probably never even noticed that I had made the mistake in the first place.

There's this mom in town--totally an "A List" mom. There is no doubt about that. Her kids have graduated now, but they are the same age as my two daughters. Anyway, when all the kids were in school this lady was always the one to do everything. Every school event, she was there and behind the scenes making it a success. She was probably the team mom for every sport for about eight years and thanks to her the booster club raised tons of money. I think she's absolutely the #1 mom in the world and I have always thought that and that is not where my error lay.

I also thought that she didn't think much of me. Sure, when I saw her at school she was really nice and friendly to me. She always asked about my children and offered some fun and positive comment but if I saw her outside of a school event it was hit or miss. Sometimes she would smile and chat and be friendly and other times, I was met with averted eyes, no acknowledgment and a hole in my self-esteem bucket.

So, I assumed that I probably wasn't up to snuff. For TEN YEARS, since our children were in middle school track together, I have thought that this lady was either really moody or just didn't like me. I'm sure that I was kind of shy around her for just that reason and Lord only knows what sort of impression that made.

OK, so fast forward to today--I stopped into Subway for a sandwich and there she was eating with her son. Except there were two of her and I didn't know which one was the lady I knew. Fortunately, she smiled and waved and asked about my children and offered some fun and positive comment. I responded, smiled at her and at her twin sister and left Subway with my tail between my legs and a lesson learned.

The gift of a wondering mind

2009-05-15T11:58:00.005-04:00

Last night, Bernd Heinrich came to Devaney, Doak and Garrett Booksellers, DDG is a wonderful independent bookstore in Farmington, Maine. Kenny, the proprietor, is a friend who has steered me toward many a good book. He's the sort of merchant who knows his customers and searches out the sort of book that they might enjoy. For many years he has been the source of most everything that was under the christmas tree for Molly. From 5th grade and Harry Potter through her sophomore year in college, I just walked in and said--"What shall I get for Molly?" and he would select a stack for me--she has always enjoyed every one.

But last night, the store was open late for lovers of the natural world. About 15 people came out to see and hear Bernd talk about his new book. He said that after writing The Snoring Bird (which I reviewed here), he didn't know if he had another book in him. His publisher came to him, though, and said Winter World was such a successful book, what about doing one on summer. Luckily for all of us, he agreed to write another book. Even more lucky for us--in the process of writing he discovered that there were really 3 books to be written. Summer World is mostly about insects and the next two will be about nesting behavior and homing behavior in birds. That is a lot to look forward to.

He talked a little bit about the book, but then he read from his journals--he read entries from several days of watching a pair of red-breasted nuthatches build their nest. Such detail--exactly what readers of his expect and look forward to. He also talked a bit about how observing nature in the field leads him on to experiments in the laboratory. That in a nutshell is why we should have our children outside experiencing nature as much as possible--because then they'll see something like an ant carrying a load bigger than its body or a chrysalis hanging from a leaf or a woodpecker echoing through the forest or fungus growing from a log--and maybe they will wonder and the wonder may lead them to discover.

Bernd Heinrich in Farmington

2009-05-14T07:27:00.006-04:00

This evening at 7 p.m., Bernd Heinrich will be reading from his new book Summer World: A Season of Bounty at my favorite book store, Devaney, Doak and Garrett

It sounds like another winner, I can't wait to read it.

Trail Hazards

2009-05-13T05:33:00.007-04:00

We are fortunate to have lots of woods and uninhabited land in Maine. Most of it is owned by lumber companies and timber kings and those of us who don't pay taxes on it can still enjoy it. In Dixfield there are miles and miles of trails throughout the woods and into the hills for everyone to use. Snowmobillers, snowshoers and cross country skiiers use the trails in the winter and in the spring, summer and fall the trails are used by walkers and runners and some ATV riders.

Archie has been mountain biking a good bit recently and I noticed when he came home a few days ago from a ride that he had a shovel and a saw sticking up out of his back pack. Apparently he's been improving the fear factor on some of the trails and making jumps in the woods. So, of course I had to go see.

He chose a trail that was too overgrown to be used by ATV riders so hopefully no one will come upon this unexpectedly but local readers beware the terrain on a stretch of one trail has definitely been altered.

He built a bridge over one of the streams out of dead trees and dirt and he built jumps and landing ramps. Now, I'm not in favor of altering natural landscapes at all, but at this moment in time I'm pretty happy to have him building trails and jumps and relying on his creativity, wits and engineering skills.

Mothers and Daughters

2009-05-10T06:41:00.008-04:00

It has been eight months since Sara flew off to Macedonia to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. When she gets a chance, she updates her blog about her experiences but I thought this rainy Mother's Day Sunday might be a good chance for me to reflect.

Molly, who combines the roles of little sister and best friend is headed over for a visit. During her sophomore year, Molly worked two jobs, ate practically nothing and successfully bargain hunted for cheap airfare and on Tuesday, she will be flying first to Paris to visit a friend who is doing a semester abroad and then to Italy to visit another friend and then to Athens where Sara will meet her. They will spend a few days in Greece and then head to Macedonia. Oh, to be a beanie baby on one of their backpacks.

What I wonder is how did it happen that young girls now feel so strong and so empowered. Molly did all the working and saving and planning without any input from her parents. She set a goal, did what she had to do and now is embarking on it without fear. Sara did the same, although because of her personality, there was more conversation involved.

I am in awe of these women that are my daughters.

Anna Quindlen wrote a piece in Newsweek five years ago where she said that that having a daughter made her a better woman. My favorite paragraph in the article is this:

Each wave of feminism has believed in something called the New Woman. The woman who could vote, who could work, who could be truly free. I am the mother of the New Woman. She doesn't waste a lot of time tailoring the cut of her character to suit the demands of a world that has always had mediocre taste. She never milks her gender, and she is not cowed by guys. She has taught me to dare more and conform less, to cut down on my hypocrisy because she shames me by seeing right through it. Being her mother is like playing basketball with a crack player (and she is that);
she raises the level of the game of life
just by showing up.

Checking in on the Bees

2009-05-09T13:42:00.011-04:00

Because it probably is not that much fun to be hard at work and have a Giant come and remove your work station, examine everything with clumsy Giant hands, coo at you in a Giant babytalk voice and then replace your workstation nearly crushing some of your co-workers, I try not to check on my hives too frequently. Saturdays are my days to check in with them just to satisfy my curiosity--they have no need for my scrutiny.

In the last month, the hive that I call Washington has built comb in 8 of its frames, the newly-built comb is now filled with eggs, larvae, honey and pollen. The hive that I call Madison is slightly more productive, it has one entire super (10 frames) heavy with bee produce and the bees have started working on the second super. The supers are piled one atop another so the bees work their way up.

The bees in the hive at mid-day are probably the younger bees, newly emerged themselves they become the nurse bees to the eggs and the larvae--they care for the brood around the clock for roughly the first two weeks of their adult life. During this period the nurse bees do not display any circadian rhythm. An interesting article on this subject appeared in the New York Times last week. At about two weeks of age, the bees become foragers and at that time their circadian rhythm kicks into gear and they learn to make their flights for nectar at the time when the flower is releasing it in highest quantities. The foraging is hard work and the worker bees usually die by the time they are four weeks old, but by then the brood they had been tending as nurse bees are ready to take over their jobs.

I stopped feeding them sugar water last week as there are violets and dandelions blooming in the grass and forsythia, wild strawberries and azaleas showing color in the flower beds. Within a week or two my mother's yard will be a feasting bonanza for the bees as the lilac, apples and grapes blossom.

The wisdom of Solomon

2009-05-07T17:49:00.004-04:00

A few evenings ago, I was walking through Walmart preoccupied with trying to remember what was written on the list left on the kitchen counter. Somewhere between Health and Beauty Aids and Pet Food, I noticed a man. He was well dressed and had a certain bearing that bespoke kindness and gentility. He was African American--not common in western Maine, an area renowned for lack of melanin. The man smiled and nodded at me. There was something familiar about him and I thought instantly of Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy and then, as the synapses of memory darted around my brain, I remembered why that thought came to mind and smiled and nodded back. There was a moment's hesitation for us both but then we each kept walking.

Many years ago, the probate court contacted me and asked me to represent an elderly woman whose daughter was petitioning for guardianship. The daughter and mother were estranged and had been for some 30 years. It was far too late to repair the relationship, the elderly woman did not even remember that she had a daughter and the daughter, who was a grandmother herself, still clung to hurt that was decades old.

When I went to visit the woman in the nursing home, I learned that the daughter had never visited but was in contact with the nursing home and was very concerned because many evenings a gentleman--an African American gentleman--would visit and help the woman with her meal, watch television with her and sometimes take her out of the nursing home on day trips to the mountains, to the lake or even to the coast. While she was not always lucid, she was able to articulate the importance of those car trips and the companionship. She told me about seeing the Rangely Lakes from the Height of Land, she told me about watching the waves crash into the rocky coast, she told me about going out to eat in restaurants and about how free she felt when she was able to leave the nursing home in her own car with her friend driving.

As they say, the plot started to thicken. The woman had few assets, the car was really about all she had--and the car was not expensive--its only value was in providing an escape and an opportunity for pleasure. The gentleman was a widower and had lived across the hall from the woman before the nursing home when she had lived on her own in an apartment. They were friends, they often shared meals and TV time. She had a car, he could drive. They both liked to see new things and gradually for her--everything she saw was new.

The woman did not care or understand about the guardianship but she cared greatly if a guardian would restrict the visits from her friend and the trips in the car. The daughter was honest when I talked to her, she was embarrassed by the unseemliness of it all and wanted to put a stop to it.

We went to court and presented our case. The visit logs from the nursing home spoke for themselves. The woman was there but unable to testify. She did not recognize her daughter and the daughter did not go to her. The gentleman testified about the friendship and the meals and the TV shows and the car rides and there was only one pair of dry eyes left in the courtroom. The Judge allowed the car rides and visits to continue. The daughter got the guardianship appointment with the provision that there be no interference with the car rides or the visits. That day, the Judge successfully did what King Solomon proposed so many millenia ago. He split the baby.

Within a few weeks, I saw the obituary in the paper and there was no mention of the gentleman under Loved Ones Left Behind.

office art

2009-04-23T06:18:00.002-04:00

Sweet stuff

2009-04-14T06:00:00.007-04:00

Who would have thought it would only take 2 days for 3 pounds of bees to go through a two-gallon bucket of sugar syrup.

The bees are busy filling their frames with comb and I suppose it must take a lot of energy to work so hard but it will all seem more natural to me when they get their calories from flowers rather than the baking aisle at Walmart.

To feed them, I boil a gallon of water and then take it off the heat and add a ten pound bag of sugar stirring to help it dissolve. When the syrup cools, I pour it into a two gallon plastic bucket and then struggle to fit the top on to the bucket.

The top of the bucket has two holes and then a screen over the holes. The bucket sits upside down in the top of the hive with the water held in because of a vacuum. The water drips out of the holes and into the screen area and the bees climb up and sip the water from the screen.

When I found the first bucket empty after only two days, I thought that perhaps the vacuum didn't work and it had all poured into the hive, but there was no evidence of a spill--the only explanation is that 10,000 bees can drink a lot of sugar water.

Bald Mountain, Oquossoc

2009-04-12T14:11:00.008-04:00

Well, with the bees happily building their comb and the queen freed from her box, we decided to drive over the mountain to Rangely, Maine.

We drove up over the Height of Land where the Appalachian Trail crosses Route 17. Lake Mooselookmeguntic was as startlingly beautiful as ever. The ice was starting to go out from the edges, but it will be awhile before the last of it is gone.

One of at least three Bald Mountains in the state of Maine is located near Rangely in the town of Oquossoc. The Maine Mountain Guide listed the trail as 1 mile to the 2443 foot summit. We were surprised to find the trailhead parking lot still full of snow but decided to park on the road and try the trail anyway. The snow was firm and the air was warm, so we headed up the mountain.

There were parts where the trail was kind of icy and, unprepared as we were for the conditions, I was forced to use my Poland Springs water bottle for an ice axe. Not a recommended use.

At the top of the mountain, there was a fire tower. A little known fact is that I am scared of heights that God didn't make but I'm glad that Charlie encouraged me up the tower--the view was amazing.

It felt so good to be up a mountain and to exert some energy in the fresh air. It was so quiet at the top--at other times of the year the noise of snowmobiles or jetskis would disturb the peace but yesterday in between those seasons, we were the only ones in the world.

Eagle Webcam

2009-04-11T09:48:00.002-04:00

There are a lot of other things that I COULD be doing.

The Beeginning

2009-04-09T16:03:00.008-04:00

Well, the bees survived their trip north and I survived our first date.

The hives are going to be at my parents' place in Sumner. They have lots of room, extensive flower and vegetable gardens, a fish pond and hundreds of acres of woods. So, after the bees were delivered to my house in Dixfield, I put their box into the back seat of my car and drove the 15 minutes to their new home.

Charlie and Archie were still at school and my mom was taking a nap, so my Dad and I were on our own for this adventure.

First we set up a "super" which is a box that contains the frames and base for the bees to build their combs on. We had put it all together in his basement over the last few weeks, but the snow just melted enough today to get things set up.

After we got the supers situated and got all of the equipment ready, I brought the bees down. Please note the duct tape stuck onto my shirt. I wanted to be totally prepared and you never know when a piece of duct tape is going to be necessary--so I wanted it handy--it is kind of a fashion statement in Maine to wear duct tape, but that's not why I did it.

Once I got my veil on, I opened up the first box and removed the small box that contained the queen. There was a queen bee and two attendants in the small box and it was plugged with a piece of soft candy. I poked two or three holes in the candy with a nail and then with a rubber band attached the queen box to one of the frames in my super. The worker bees should get the queen out within two or three days.

Once the queen was secured into the super, I removed a couple of frames and shook the rest of the bees in. Most of them just fell right into the super and then I carefully replaced the frames without squishing anybody and placed the box next to the entrance of the super. The bees who remained in the box immediately started marching in attracted by the strong pheramones from their queen.

It went much better than I expected it to. The hard part will be leaving them alone for the next day or two. On Sunday, I plan to check and make sure that the queen is out of her box, if not I will assist and get her out.

There were so many interesting observations in this first experience. There were probably a dozen bees from each box that were on the outside of the box but they didn't fly around, they stayed as close as they could to their own cluster. They were also surprisingly gentle and soft. I think that we are going to have a happy relationship my bees and I.

Bee Prepared

2009-04-07T04:13:00.004-04:00

So, the bees are on their way.

Over the weekend, I painted their hives and am desperately hoping that the rain is melting the snow in the spot where I want to place them so that I can set them up before the packages of bees arrive.

White is the traditional bee hive color because it helps keep the hives cool in the summer sun, but up here in the cold north woods, we can use darker colors to assist the bees in keeping their hives warm. I used a dark red called Fireweed and want to paint whimsical designs of flowers and trailing honeybees and a logo--I'm thinking Beth's Bees.

The hive temperature needs to stay at around 93 degrees and we have very few days where the outside temperature tops that, so in Maine we are more concerned with keeping the bees warm than with keeping them cool. I am especially concerned about them when they arrive on Thursday to temperatures in the 40's and nights in the 30's.

Now for the the scary part. The bees are coming in 3 pound packages--there are about 3500 bees to a pound so that makes about 10,000 bees and I'm starting two hives---so that is 20,000 bees. There will be no gentle introduction to my new hobby as I dump them from their traveling box into the hives. I read the section on Installing Your Colony in my Bee Book and then re-read it and then re-read it again. I really don't think there is any margin of error when working with 20,000 bees for the first time. Then, just when I thought I had the book chapter memorized, I decided to check You-Tube. Well, wouldn't you know there are plenty of videos of people installing their bee packages--some good, some not so good--some cautionary tales, some instructive. I watched them all, some of them several times and now every time that my mind has time for any discretionary wandering--it replays the process of installing the bees over and over and over.

If I surivive the installation and if I can find anyone brave enough to photograph it, I will post pictures on Thursday of my hives.

A friday evening with Miss Molly

2009-03-28T06:12:00.006-04:00

Molly met me at the Foggy Bottom Metro on Friday afternoon and after hugs we walked down to Georgetown and found a nice little Italian Restaurant for dinner. I love listening to her order with her perfect Italian pronunciations acquired during her junior year of high school when she experienced Milan while Archie and I missed her. The Italian language sounds like spoken art to me.

As we talked over our pasta, it quickly became apparent that I wasn't in Dixfield any more--well actually that should have been apparent when I glanced at the menu and didn't notice anything that had been deep fried. People in colorful and flowing cultural dress and speaking lyrical languages passsed by our table and on the street outside the window. While I absorbed the city and the calories in our delicious meal, Molly told me all about her adventures and her classes and her plans. I cherished every word.

After we ate, we walked back up to Foggy Bottom pausing to browse in a paper products store. We both love paper products--stationery, cards, boxes, journal books. We didn't buy anything but it was fun to look and dream. There were invitations that were so pretty that I wanted to have a party just for an excuse to use them. After the stationery store, we went to her dorm room so that she could get a jacket. Her roomate had to leave school due to the economic blight that is affecting so many and Molly ended up with a single room for the semester.

Once she had her jacket, we walked down to the National Mall pausing at the Nurse's Memorial before climbing the steps to Lincoln. We sat on the steps in the setting sun and she pointed out where she had stood during the Inauguration Concert (roughly where Jenny was in Forrest Gump). She told me that she and her friends had arrived at 8 a.m. for th 2 p.m. concert but had seen Cheryl Crowe, Garth Brooks, U-2 and others perform before the soon-to-be President. She said it was cold waiting for such a long time but that it was worth it to be part of such an event. As we walked from the Lincoln Memorial toward my favorite--the FDR Memorial on the Tidal Basin, we passed the Korean War Memorial (my other favorite). The Korean War memorial is truly haunting.

We crossed Jefferson Avenue and headed around the Tidal Basin toward the Roosevelt Memorial. If I lived in DC, I would go to this memorial every day. It is full of symbolism suffused with nature.

We decided that was enough for one evening stroll and started to head back to campus detouring slightly to walk through the World War II Memorial pausing to look back at the Lincoln Memorial and then turning to look at the Washington Monument. She pointed out to me where she had stood during the Inauguration--too tiny to even see the jumbotrons--she nevertheless experienced something that she will never forget.

After enjoying so much on the National Mall, I left her at her dorm and headed to the metro and to my hotel and to bed. We have plans to meet this morning with her friend Julie and my rental car and head south of town to the other kind of Mall.

A get away weekend

2009-03-27T05:40:00.005-04:00

Today I'm heading to Washington, DC to spend the weekend with Molly. Last year during my spring-time visit, she climbed cherry trees as we headed to the Lincoln Memorial.

I haven't seen her since she flew back down to school in early January. She chose an impromptu trip to Florida with friends over coming back to Maine in March for Spring Break--who can understand young people?

As soon as the semester is over, she's jumping on a plane to Europe to see her sister. So, I'm not even sure if Western Maine is on her agenda for the summer.

Molly is my quiet child--when all four of the kids were little--and they were all little at once--less than six years from oldest to youngest. I would often slam on the brakes of the minivan and say with anxiety "Is Molly in here?" The other three would reply yes, except for one time when she wasn't and we quickly had to turn around.
I can't wait to see her this afternoon. Knowing Molly the weekend will provide lots of fun photo opportunities for me to share with you.

Lots of thoughts

2009-03-25T16:03:00.004-04:00

It has been so long since I logged into Blogger that it had almost forgotten me. Thanks to all of you who wrote concerned with my absence. It has been hard to kick the flu this year and most of my limited energy has gone toward work and family.

We still have much snow on the ground here but these lengthening days are full of sunshine. The maple sap is running and the sugar houses are boiling away. The common redpolls are still visiting my feeder but I've been encouraging them to start heading north. I saw a dove picking dead grass yesterday, so she may be nesting in our barn again. There is a broken window pane on the third floor and a box nailed high up on the wall and in other years I have heard the soft cooing of little doves in there.

Brother and family visited from Chile last week and we snowshoed down to the beaver dam, no sign of activity on the snow around the dam but we could see some denuded sticks floating in the water and took that as a hopeful sign that our little friends saw the winter through.

A few weekends ago, we were to have friends spend the weekend. We had been anticipating the visit for months and planning it for weeks. All four of us were truly looking forward to it until the Coughs hit. The worst part of having the flu is the final stage which involves lots and lots and lots of coughing and so Charlie and I decided that in the interest of not infecting our friends and conserving our strength we should re-schedule for the following weekend. Unfortunately, it was not to be. On the Saturday of our originally-scheduled weekend, when we should have been snowshoeing through the woods and enjoying each other's company, our friends suffered an accident that has left scars on their hearts, minds, memories and body. We have spoken several times on the phone since then and I think about them every day.

Tonight, it is off to bee class--we're learning about honey harvesting--I've waited 8 sessions to learn this most important piece! The bees will be here in a few weeks.

Thanks for listening, sorry to be so long--I'll be back to posting regularly soon.
Love,
Beth

NCAA Noric Ski Championship

2009-03-14T19:35:00.012-04:00

We have been firmly under the weather with a nasty cold all week, but this morning Charlie rallied enough to ask me to go watch the Men's Freestyle race in the NCAA Skiing Championships being held just down the road at Black Mountain of Maine.

The best nordic skiers from colleges stretching from the University of Alaska at Anchorage to Bates College in Lewiston Maine flew up and over the hilly course for 20 kilometers. It was a perfect winter day. The sky was clear and that pure blue that we get in the winter when a high pressure system is sitting right on top of us--the temperature on the mountain was just at freezing--comfortable for spectators. We were able to position ourselves at a few different points in order to see the skiers several times as they looped over the course.

Black Mountain of Maine was developed thanks to the efforts of former Olympian Chummy Broomhall who, along with other members of the 1952 U.S. Nordic team, was present and cheering on the racers.

Another olympian and favorite daughter of Maine was skiing around and watching the racers. Joan Benoit Samuelson is probably my favorite famous Mainer. Sadly, several years ago a woman that I was watching a high school race with was quite rude to the great marathoner. That was the end of me ever standing near that particular woman again and it caused me to, very uncharacteristically, speak sharply in reprimand. I've always been embarrassed when I've seen Joan wondering if she remembered and associated me with that moment. Truthfully, she probably didn't even notice, but it still rankles with me.

As we were leaving, Charlie ran into his coach from when he was on the Bates Nordic Team in the early 1970's. Charlie has such great memories of those days, I love to hear his stories about the ski races and I love the fact that nordic skiers can still enjoy their sport 40 years later.

A good day.

Cat Walk

2009-03-13T20:39:00.006-04:00

During this rather strange year in his life, my youngest son has acquired a little tiger tom cat. Last week we took the kitty to the vet to have the tom taken out of him but he has retained the swagger and the attitude.

A month or so ago, Archie and the cat were staying at a house about 6 miles away. The furnace had stopped working at the house and no one else was there. During the night, with a snowstorm raging, the house got really cold and Archie decided to come home. He tucked the kitty into his backpack and walked back here, came in through the door that I always leave unlocked for him or anyone else that needs it, cooked everything he could find in the cupboards while Charlie and I slept soundly unaware, and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up, came downstairs and turned on the coffee pot picking up a piece of pasta as I walked across the kitchen floor. Hmmmm, I usually clean up better than that before bed and we hadn't had pasta for supper and is that the waffle iron out--and syrup sticky on the counter? Well, it didn't take Hercule Poirot to figure out that someone had come in and made a feast of pasta and waffles as a snowstorm had swirled outside and it didn't take too many of my deductive powers to figure out who it might have been. I went up the back staircase to Archie's room, opened the door and there he was asleep in his bed with this funny little cat. They have been here ever since.

One of the many characteristics of this little cat that endear him to Archie is that he takes walks just like a puppy dog would. Every day, they take a walk around town or through the woods with the kitty following or walking beside Archie. Today, they let me come with them on a walk to the hardware store.

No telling what people think when they see a teenage boy walking around with a little tiger cat beside him, but I guess we have gotten way past caring what people think. I hope it makes them smile.

Marital harmony

2009-03-11T17:50:00.003-04:00

If there is one area of expertise endowed on my family of origin, it is as connoisseurs of breakfast cereal. I was raised to believe that a bowl of cereal before bed was an element on the first level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, as essential as air, food and shelter.

Somewhere along the line I stopped partaking of my bedtime bowl of carbohydrates but my idea of a perfect nighttime meal is still Honey Nut Cheerios with a banana and soy milk and any time I'm on my own for supper, that's my choice.

As much as I love the sweet crunchiness of Honey Nut Cheerios, I really, really hate the commercial where a wife stands around eating them and lowering her cholesterol while her husband works himself half to death doing household chores. I can't claim to be an expert on marriage but I'm pretty sure that while her cholesterol is going down, his blood pressure is going up and that can't be a good thing.

Redpolls

2009-03-05T13:07:00.006-05:00

A few days ago, I asked Archie and Brent to put a new feeder up on a pulley between the porch and the big maple tree by the driveway. The other bird feeders are over by my office and I can't see them from the house and I wanted to be able to drink my morning coffee, look out the window and see birds. So after seeing a similar arrangement at Charlie's brother's house, the boys and I went to the hardware store and procured the necessary supplies.

That first night, I dreamed about hordes of colorful birds flocking to my yard--I woke up and laughed about my silly dream--and this morning it came true!

This morning as we drank our coffee and checked e-mail, we were treated to 50 or more common redpolls and goldfinches. It was magical and I will never forget this day.

Accessorizing

2009-03-05T04:50:00.004-05:00

I think I look ready to penetrate the deepest darkest jungles.

Last night the material to put together two hives arrived. Over the next month or so, we'll get the pieces put together (if I can remember how--they did not come with directions) and then we'll be ready when the bees arrive via overnight delivery from Georgia. Oh, those poor bees are in for a nasty surprise. Whatever they were used to in Georgia in Maine, they will find that April is a winter month.

Until the dandelions bloom, the bees will get a sugar water solution--we learned several different ways of providing it--more on this as I begin experimenting. The point is to have the solution available for them to access with their tongues without the risk of drowning.

This all seems so complicated but I keep telling myself to take a deep breath, the bees know what to do even if I don't. Maybe, that's the way with a lot of things.

Great Caribou Bog Wicked Winter Ski Race

2009-03-01T18:47:00.007-05:00

Today Charlie competed in the 24th Great Caribou Bog Wicked Winter Ski Tour and Race. The race goes from Bangor to Old Town over a 17 kilometer trail that winds through forests and bogs.

It was a mass start with all racers starting in one big bundle. By the 3 kilometer mark, he said the field had spread itself out. When the camera and I caught him at the 8 kilometer mark, he was coming through the woods alone.

The few kilometers that I skied were very enjoyable and made me anxious to ski the race next year with him--well to start with him anyway.

Does anyone think this is a good idea??

2009-02-25T06:46:00.006-05:00

I'm all for creativity and the entrepreneurial spirit and, Lord only knows, in this economy any one gutsy enough to start a business should be applauded--but a topless coffee shop in Maine?

There are so many problems with this idea.

The most obvious is the temperature--there are very few days in Maine when even men are willing to go topless. It's cold here--even in the summer we wear fleece and sweaters. What must they keep their thermostat on in order for these ladies to be at their best?

There are a myriad of other reasons for why this is a shockingly bad idea but I don't want to be accused of negativity. So here's to you Grand View Topless Coffee Shop. Oh my goodness, even the name makes me laugh.

After the Storm

2009-02-23T18:07:00.009-05:00

Today, everything was canceled. Maine dug out from more snow than we have seen in one storm in the ten years that I have lived here.

Archie and Brent spent the afternoon shoveling out the fire hydrants in nearby Canton. It's a nice little job and easy money after a 6 inch snow storm--today though they earned every penny. I drove them from hydrant to hydrant parking alongside, blinkers flashing, nose in a book hoping that the logging trucks rumbling past had room to get by.
After the fire hydrants, we headed over to my parents' house to help them shovel out their generator. As we traveled through a town called Hartford which must have a miniscule snow removal budget anyway, we came upon their lone plow hopelessly stuck in the snow. Just past the stranded plow, the road went to one poorly plowed lane and then to a mound of snow--no one was getting through on that road. Fortunately, after expertly executing a 16-point turn, we were able to navigate our way back through Hartford and to other roads leading to my mom and dad and steaming bowls of red beans and rice!

Blizzard

2009-02-23T08:22:00.010-05:00

On Saturday the weather forecasters started warning of a big storm on Sunday. They were predicting that it would start at 1 p.m. and when it didn't, we threw up our hands and assumed that the alarmist weather prognosticators were wrong again.

About the time that Kate Winslet was looking beautiful on the red carpet, the first flakes were starting to fall.

At 1 a.m., I woke with a start realizing that everything was much too dark and much too silent. I got up and came downstairs and found Archie and Brent stoking up the fire and trying to find a non-electric alarm to wake Brent up at 4:15 to get to his job at the log yard behind our house. I gave him a flashlight and an alarm and then settled in on the couch to feed the fire and see the night through. For those of you familiar with the cast of characters in my life Brent is a friend of Archie's and the latest young person to share our home for a spell.

By the time that the power came back, I could see the snow piled up on my kitchen window bird feeder and realized this was a monster storm--20 inches for us. As I write, I see Brent walking up the driveway, I guess it was too much snow for the log yard to operate.

Did someone mention daffodils, returning red-winged blackbirds and salamanders? It hardly seems possible.

Banff Film Festival World Tour

2009-02-18T07:28:00.003-05:00

Last night Charlie and I went to Portland to see some of the films from the 2008 Banff Film Festival. The Banff Film Festival is held every October at the Banff Cultural Center and screens films on mountain culture from all over the world. Someday when I have disposable income and time to spare, I would love to attend--but until then--a February evening in the South Portland High School auditorium is the next best thing.

Revisiting a favorite post with an Exciting Update

2009-02-17T05:22:00.004-05:00

I first wrote this in January, 2008. It is one of my favorite posts and the one that is most often found on google because of the burgeoning fame of Tom and Atticus. They will be hiking this week with a film crew from Animal Planet who will feature Atticus in their show Dogs 101.

In September, 2006, Charlie and I spent a weekend hiking over the Wildcats and across the southern Carter range. As we climbed Carter Dome on the morning of our second day, we met a man who was hiking with his dog.

It isn't so unusual to see people hiking with dogs, but it is fairly unusual to see someone hiking up the rugged high peaks of New Hampshire's White Mountains with a schnauzer. We unconsciously alternated rest breaks with the man and his dog, stopping to exchange pleasantries each time one of us passed the other.

At a ledge over-looking Carter Notch and the hut, the man took a picture of us. Way down at the bottom of the picture, you can see the green roof of the hut. It obviously had been a steep climb for all of us--but for that little schnauzer?

Carter Dome, at a height of 4832 feet is the 9th highest of the White Mountains. When we made the summit, we had it to ourselves with no sign of the man and dog who had passed us again a little before. Despite its height, the summit of Carter Dome does not provide much of a view. Charlie, who had hiked the trail before, assured me that less than a mile to the north, Mt. Hight would provide a beautiful view across Pinkham Notch and the eastern side of the Presidential Range.

We kept at it--heading north on the Carter-Moriah trail to Mt. Hight. When we got there, it was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. There was an undercast in the Notch and the Northern Presidentials poked up through it like islands in an ocean of clouds. The leaves were just starting to turn and the contrast of the clouds below the majestic peaks and then the blue sky was just incredible.

It's impossible to share such rare beauty with a stranger without feeling that you have slipped into friendship, so we shared the summit with the man and his dog and talked a bit about who we were and what we did and why we were climbing a mountain on a Sunday in September when the Red Sox were playing the Yankees.

The man's name was Tom and his dog was named Atticus. They lived in Massachusetts where he operated a controversial political newspaper. Tom and Atticus climbed 4000 footers every weekend year-round and were planning on hiking all 48 4000 footers two times the coming winter as a fund-raiser for the Jimmy Fund.

He told us about an internet hangout for hikers called Views from the Top and said he would sponsor us as members. C and I became avid readers of the posts on Views from the Top and our favorite poster of trip reports was, of course, Tom and Atticus. His writing was amazing. If the standard advice to writers is to write about your passion, he was clearly passionate about the mountains.

When I was a little girl growing up, my neighbor was an artist named Arnelda Richter. On a summer morning, she would find me knocking at the sliding glass door of her studio. She would let me in to watch her paint--I loved her artistry--especially her paintings of the ocean because she painted the ocean the way I saw it. As a child, I couldn't understand why others couldn't capture the ocean quite right--of course now I know that we all experience things differently. But just like my artist neighbor painted the ocean the way it was to me, Tom writes about the mountains the way I know them.

The man and dog are at it again, this winter attempting to climb all 48 4000 footers two times to raise money for MSPCA-Angell Animal Medical Center. Tom sold his newspaper last fall and moved up to New Hampshire to write and to hike with his companion, Atticus. I have never read his political writings, but his mountain writings are extraordinary. If you have ever wondered what it is like to climb mountains or to love a dog or to heal from heartbreak, Tom can tell you.

Down with a bug

2009-02-11T12:10:00.014-05:00

On Sunday, the reason for Saturday's poor hiking performance became clear as I started sneezing and coughing and blowing my nose and feeling generally rotten and over the last few nights, as I have tossed and turned feverishly, memories of childhood sick days came back to me.

Back in the day, once my mother had declared me too sick to go to school, she would put my favorite sheets on my bed (I was particularly fond of some with stripes that looked just like fruit stripe gum). Dad would move the TV into my bedroom and I was to "rest".

While everyone else was at school, by a miracle delivered through a little rabbit ear antenna on our not-very-up-to-date black and white TV, I could enter the world of GAME SHOWS. I absolutely loved them all. Wasn't Kitty Carlisle just about the most glamorous woman that ever lived?

What's My Line, To Tell the Truth, Concentration, Password--they were all so much fun to watch and I just knew that the contestants and the celebrities were living lives that I couldn't ever imagine in my little fruit-striped cocoon littered with kleenexes and Nancy Drew books.

Well, we all grow up--there aren't many game shows that appeal to me these days but I've known a couple of people who were contestants on the old game shows. When I lived in San Antonio, years ago a woman from my church was on Price is Right--she was tall and blonde and enthusiastic--perfect contestant material. A friend of mine who practices law with me was on Password during its last season. He has told me the whole story from sending in his application to hugging Betty White--it wasn't quite as good as hugging Betty White myself but I suppose vicarious game show contestanting is about all I'll get.

The Vinyl Cafe

2009-02-09T05:41:00.003-05:00

Recently I discovered a radio show called the Vinyl Cafe. It plays on our local NPR station on Sunday afternoons and this morning while searching the web and wanting to re-listen to yesterday's story, Wally, I found that the broadcasts are available as a free podcast on Itunes.

If you haven't already found this gem from Canada, check it out!

The Bemis Track

2009-02-08T06:22:00.007-05:00

Yesterday I decided to hike out to Angel Falls which is located in a remote area about a mile off an old railroad bed called the Bemis Track. The Bemis track is barely passable as a road in the summer and in the winter only serves snowmobilers traveling the wild country between Lake Mooselookmeguntic and the Tumbledown region. It's a good place to be alone.

I parked my car just off Route 17 and changed into my hiking boots, adjusting my backpack with the snowshoes strapped to the outside. I knew that I would need the snowshoes for the mile hike from the Bemis track to the falls, but thought the track would be packed down enough by snowmobilers that I might be able to cover the four miles to the trailhead faster in my bare boots.

Everything was so quiet--no birds, no wind, no sound of rushing water from the brook that paralleled the trail. The rushing water was buried deep beneath many feet of ice and as I looked off the trail at the book, I could only imagine its course by the buried mounds of boulders.

So, off I went, leaving the car at 11 a.m. It's hard to judge distance along the track and with the late start, I decided that if I was not to the trailhead by 1 p.m., I would turn around. Charlie was at a ski race and would not be home to notice that I was missing until close to dark--late to mount a rescue effort--and the bargain I have struck with the ones who love me is that they won't complain about me hiking alone if I exercise extreme caution.

It was hard walking, slightly uphill at a railroad grade and the snow was not as hard packed as I had imagined it would be. My feet sank in about 2 inches with each step and by 12 when I stopped to find the trailmix in my pack and to drink some water, I was really getting tired. I munched the trail mix and kept walking wondering if maybe I should put on my snowshoes. Just before 1 p.m., I saw a big boulder up the road a ways and decided to walk to the boulder and then decide what to do. I made it to the boulder and decided to put my snowshoes on and turn around.

As I was putting on my snowshoes, I heard the roar of snowmobiles that soon materialized coming from the direction of Mooselookmeguntic. The leader pulled up beside me and looked for all the world like he had just driven off the pages of an L. L. Bean catalogue with his green wool Maine guide jacket and handsome chiseled features. The people on the many sleds behind him had the look of eager weekend visitors who had paid him for a snowmobile adventure. He asked me if I was safe and I said yes. I asked him how far to the trailhead since he had just come from that direction and he said about 1/2 mile but suggested that I turn around as it was getting late and cold. I agreed. He patted the back of his sled and told me to hop on. I was tempted--tired and facing 2 hours back to my car--but I shook my head, assured him that I was fine and sent them on their way.

Before heading back I took out my camera and took one picture before the battery died. Kind of a weird day--no goals realized but I am a firm believer that in life it is the process not the product that matters. I had a wonderful day breathing fresh air, exercising my body, remembering all the other hikes to Angel Falls and casting my cares off into the snowy world.

Pretty Birds and what to do with a Sunny Saturday

2009-02-07T05:40:00.008-05:00

Three goldfinch joined the chickadees at my feeders yesterday. They are so pretty--it's amazing how much color the birds add to the bleak winter landscape. They are kind of like flying flowers.

I am in a quandry about what to do with this day. The thermometer is predicted to hit the freezing mark, something we haven't seen in months and something that I am pretty excited about. So, what to do with it.

I have narrowed my day to two choices.

Either a hike to beautiful frozen Angel Falls or a hike out to check on the beavers. On one hand, the hike to Angel Falls is long but the trail will be broken out by snowmobilers for most of the way and the frozen falls are always stunning to see, on the other hand I haven't checked on the beavers since before Christmas. That trail won't be broken out at all and while much shorter than the one to Angel Falls will probably require a lot of work.

Hmmmm, I'm thinking Angel Falls--the beavers can wait one more week and next weekend my parents, who live on the beaver's property (and pay the taxes for the beavers) will be back from their trip to Texas and can supply me with tea and cookies after the arduous trail breaking.
Decision made.

OK, Angels Falls it is. Check back later for pictures and a trip report.

Bees-N-Me

2009-02-05T06:01:00.005-05:00

Last night in bee class, a man brought in kits and taught us how to put together our hives. We brought our hammers (see my pretty flowery one) and snapped pieces together and hammered them tight and nailed them securely and then put a piece of wax in them. These little frames are what the bees use as a foundation for their work and where they build their combs and leave their honey.

A bee hive is several boxes (called Supers) filled with these frames. The bottom two or three supers contain the bees' honey and on top of those, we will put "honey boxes" for the excess--our honey!

I have to order my supplies by this weekend and have decided to go with medium supers because loaded with comb and honey they will weigh 60 pounds as opposed to the deeper, more traditional supers that will weigh 100 pounds. I think 60 pounds is all I want to be tossing around into a wheelbarrow, so we'll go with the smaller ones. Using the medium supers, I will have three rather than two for the bees' use and hopefully a whole lot for my use--honey--yummmmmy. (Note to self: re-read Winnie the Pooh and Too Much Honey)

We also learned that in Maine we should paint the hives a non-traditional dark color Most hives are painted white and that is to assist the bees in keeping their hive cool. But the hive temperature stays around 95 degrees and in Maine we don't have very many days where the temperature is over 90 so by painting the hive a darker color we can assist the bees in their heating.

I am ordering Italian bees. They are recommended as docile and hardy and the experienced beekeepers in our class all recommend them.

The bees will be in on April 11 and we have eight classes between now and then for me to learn everything I can.

Stay tuned!

The rest of the story

2009-02-01T06:20:00.006-05:00

I didn't mean to be terribly mysterious in my post yesterday about my poor handwarmer placement decision but Donna pretty much said it all in her comment.

KGMom has left a new comment on your post "Carter Notch, January 30, 2009":

We have used the hand warmers in the past at football games.
Um, I don't think I would put it in my bra! They do get. . .warm. And the skin on one's hands is a bit thicker and tougher than the thin delicate skin. . .
Enough said

Just a big red mark--no permanent damage.

Carter Notch, January 30, 2009

2009-01-31T17:35:00.008-05:00

What a great day and a great hike! Thanks to all of you who wished me well. It was one of those perfect days when everything cooperated. Good company clear skies, and beautiful scenery.

We started at the trailhead at 9 a.m. and the path was fairly well packed out from last week's storm but it was still hard work climbing 2000 vertical feet over 3.9 miles in snowshoes.

Layering with synthetic layers is the way to go when winter hiking. The enemy of the hiker is not the cold but moisture--so to avoid sweating, you always want to be slightly cold in your layers, adding and subtracting as necessary. The synthetic fabrics wick the moisture away from your body and keep you dry so that when you stop and the wind picks up you don't freeze into a hikersicle.

In addition to the synthetic fabrics sold for hikers and skiers, chemical hand warmers are another thing that makes winter hiking more comfortable. I had one in each glove as I hiked up the mountain and had a new set to switch over at the hut for maximum heating. This I did at the hut after eating lunch and changing into dry socks. The mistake I made--and I'm going to try and put this delicately--was putting the still warm used handwarmers in my bra--it seemed like a good idea at the time and since this is a family blog, I won't go into detail--but CAUTION: Do Not Do This Even if It Seems Like A Good Idea At The Time.

By the time we were within a mile of the hut and climbing steeply the wind picked up and it was COLD. Maybe it's always cold in notches where the wind comes howling down the rift between big mountains but I just about froze my fingers taking very few pictures. Our lunch break at the hut was welcome, there was no fire and it was cold but at least the wind stayed outside so we could eat our lunch even if it meant putting things into our mouths to melt before chewing.

The descent went much quicker than the ascent and by the time we had lost some elevation we could once again feel our fingers and toes. It was fun getting to know Elise who is the clerk in one of my courts and her friend Sally who hiked over 2000 miles of the Appalachian Trail with her husband in 2007, the year that she turned 50. It was great to hike with them and I hope we can do it again really soon.

Heading to the Notch

2009-01-30T16:23:00.007-05:00

Tomorrow, I'm heading into Carter Notch in New Hampshire's White Mountains. The trail we will take from the road is called the Nineteen Mile Brook trail and while the trail is not 19 miles but a mere 3.9 it does follow along a pretty little brook called Nineteen Mile Brook. I am very excited. This will be the first time that I've gotten into the mountains this winter and the trail is one of my favorites. It is a popular one and by the time my hiking buddy and I meet at the trailhead at 9 a.m., I expect the trail will be well packed for our snowshoes.

Carter Notch is tucked away between the Wildcat Range and the Carter Range just to the east of Mt. Washington. The picture on the right was taken on an ascent of Carter Dome in September. If you look hard you can see the green roof of the hut in the Notch far below us. The hut will be our destination tomorrow.

A few years ago, I hiked into the hut with Archie and two of his ice climbing buddies. We planned to spent three days and two nights and somehow managed to choose the coldest two nights of the winter. The hut is unheated except for a woodstove that is only lit at night. In the main hut building with the wood stove, there are tables and a propane cook stove and hikers can cook their meals but to sleep, you must venture from the woodstove and go to one of the bunk houses which have no heat and no insulation. That year that I hiked in with the boys, there were no other people there except the caretaker who had his bunk in the building with the wood stove. The boys and I claimed our bunks and laid out our sleeping bags and shivered. I don't think I slept at all the first night but was somewhat comforted by the snores of the 3 teenage boys who apparently have metabolisms like furnaces. I have never been that cold and of course in the deepest darkest part of the night I had to go to the bathroom. I tried mind games, I tried counting sheep but all I could do was imagine the filling of my bladder. Finally, I could stand it no more and got out of my down bag, put on my clothes including hiking boots and crampons for the trip to the outhouse. It was a long night and you can be sure that the following evening I drank no liquids. Honestly, though, that frigid adventure with the ice climbers is one of my fondest memories and one made extra special because I shared it with my eccentric, knows-no-limits son.

But tomorrow, I am heading up the Notch with a new hiking friend and we won't scale any high peaks, we are just hiking along the brook to the hut, we'll eat our lunch and we'll head back and be home in time for supper.

Cardinals in the Snow

2009-01-28T17:20:00.005-05:00

The Bluejays spent most of the day at the feeders, but just before dusk, Mr. Cardinal arrived. He ate and looked around and ate some more then flew off and brought back Mrs. Cardinal. What a cute couple--look how he dotes on her.

As the rest of the country digs out and recovers from the storm, we are in the thick of it. At this point, we probably have close to a foot and it is supposed to continue until midnight. Bee class was canceled.

I am planning a hike into Carter Notch with a friend on Saturday. It should be beautiful but I hope some hearty souls get in there to pack out Nineteen Mile Brook Trail before we head in. In fact, if I could have my preference it would be a group of very heavy people on snowshoes or perhaps even a large group of boyscouts. The harder the snow is packed down, the easier for those that follow.

Here it comes

2009-01-28T06:13:00.002-05:00

Just as I follow the migration of birds and the coming of Spring through my google reader and updates from fellow bloggers to the south and the west, I have followed the track of today's storm as it passed through Kentucky and Virginia and Ohio and Pennsylvania and southern New England before coming to Maine to dump up to two feet of snow on us before passing off to the maritime provinces and the north atlantic.

Nothing is coming out of the sky yet, but the call from school came already, making the predictions by the teacher and the teenager accurate. Fortunately, for me, I had planned an office day so my commute is the twenty feet from my barn door to my little carriage house office. I will fill up the feeders before the snow starts so the birds can dart out for calories and I can be distracted by them. The weatherman says that it will be snowing 2-3 inches per hour for most of the afternoon. I guess bee class will be canceled tonight.

A few months ago, a friend from another state asked me to join facebook--I joined with trepedation thinking that it was the domain of the hip and happening crowd--it isn't. Well, it may be for some people--the hip and happening ones--but it is also a fun place to reconnect with people. Recently, several of the bloggers that I follow have joined. So, maybe we have a shot at being hip and happening after all!

Just right

2009-01-24T20:10:00.003-05:00

Each winter Saturday, KGMom posts a soup recipe and each winter Saturday I want to make it. Well, today I read her post before my trip to the grocery, added some ingredients to my list and made this delicious Hearty Winter Soup. It simmered away on the stove through the afternoon as I cleaned the house and read the homework for my Beekeeping class. Charlie spent the day coaching his ski team and this evening the yummy soup hit the spot for us both. There is plenty left over for this week's lunches and some to freeze for another day.

What's all the Buzz About?

2009-01-21T21:32:00.002-05:00

For the past two winters, a notice in the paper has caught my eye advertising a 12-week course in backyard beekeeping offered at one of the local schools. It has intrigued me each year, but twelve weeks seemed like a major commitment and do I really want to keep bees? Well, this year I decided to check it out and yes, maybe I will keep bees.

What really surprised me was the number of people filling the school cafeteria--there were at least fifty other people there wanting to spend the next twelve Wednesday evenings learning about bee keeping. The folks in the class have all sorts of different motivations Some had kept bees before but want to learn more about it, some are gardeners or farmers and want the bees for pollination, some want to start a honey or wax business, one couple makes goat milk soap and uses honey as an ingredient--some (like me) just love nature and want to learn more about the fascinating work of bees.

This should be fun--updates to follow in the weeks ahead.

Harder than it looks

2009-01-21T05:38:00.003-05:00

Ruthie J and Jayne
had an idea for a game, so I'm playing along. I'm really curious about how many of you would like to be pirates or have slept on satin sheets. So, give it a try.

37 Random Things About Me

1. Do you like blue cheese? I've never tried it.
2. Have you ever smoked? I puffed a time or two as a teenager--it didn't take, thank goodness.
3. Do you own a gun? Nope.
4. What flavor Kool Aid is your favorite? Grape
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? No, my doctor is really nice and I've been going to her for a long time.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? They are yummy at baseball games.
7. Favorite Christmas movie? It's a Wonderful Life
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee
9. Can you do push-ups? Maybe....one
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? Earrings that my husband gave me (he has really good taste).
11. Favorite hobby? Hiking, reading, blogging, sewing--do I have to choose just one?
12. Do you have A.D.D? I like to multi-task, so maybe?
13. Do you wear glasses/contacts? Contacts, extended wear--I love them.
14. Middle name? Elizabeth
15. Name thoughts at this moment? How did all those people stay up late and go to balls and look so good last night? I was worn out from watching the inauguration on TV and was in my pj's by 9.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Coffee, tea, pomegranate juice, water, Polar Seltzer Water--is that more three?
17. Current worry? The economy
18. Current hate right now? Ugly rhetoric on either side of the political spectrum
19. Favorite place to be? In the woods or on a mountain.
20. How did you bring in the New Year? Dinner with friends and an exciting game of Boggle, we made it until midnight but not much past that.
21. Where would you like to go? Macedonia
22. Name three people who will complete this? Rach, Katie and SJ!
23. Do you own slippers? Yes, a pair of L.L. Bean wicked good slippers that my husband bought me for Christmas last year.
24 What color shirt are you wearing? White, still part of my pajama ensemble, too early for real clothes.
25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? Same answer as blue cheese--never tried it.
26. Can you whistle? Oh yes, I like to whistle.
27. Favorite Color? I can't think of one that isn't my favorite!
28. What songs do you sing in the shower? I'm too self-conscious to sing anywhere except the car all by myself and then I sing everything that comes on the radio whether I know it or not.
29. Would you be a pirate? No
30. Favorite Girl's Name? Molly or Sara
31. Favorite boy's name? Ethan or Archie
32. What's in your pocket right now? kleenex
33. Last thing that made you laugh? The Daily Show
34. What vehicle do you drive? Ford Escape
35. Worst injury you've ever had? I've been very lucky--no serious injuries.
36. Do you love where you live? yes
37. How many TVs do you have in your house? Two, well there might be more stored in the attic but two that work.

Hope

2009-01-20T16:49:00.005-05:00

We have heard so much over the past few months about the first African American President and the hope and inspiration that many people associate with him. As a white middle-class protestant who grew up with two parents, I cannot be presumptuous enough to understand what seeing President Obama sworn in meant for many people who grew up disenfranchised and in the shadow of power.

But, I did go to law school in ultra-white Iowa with only a handful of African American students and that gives me a story to tell

On the first day of our first year, I noticed that the few African American students all sat together through classes in Torts and Property Law and that they rarely engaged in discussion. As a quiet person myself it did not strike me as strange--I was not anxious to jump into discussions with a lot of argumentative law students either. I did not associate their silence to the color of their skin--I just thought maybe I would start sitting with them in the quiet corner.

The second day of our first year, we had Contracts class and our professor was an African American. Suddenly, it was as if this brilliant man had lit a flame under the African American students. They participated, they contributed, they were engaged in discussion and the whole class was richer for it--I even jumped in and started letting my mind expand with the discussion.

I thought about it a lot. Our teachers that first day had been brilliant, too.

While I appreciate the importance of the President's race to many people, to me the hope centers not on the color of his skin but on the breadth of his intellect and I wish him and all of us well.

Wolves

2009-01-12T17:30:00.006-05:00

,

Who isn't chillingly fascinated by the idea of wolves?

I grew up listening to Peter and the Wolf and loving the oboe even though it reminded me of the foolish duck. The Three Little Pigs caught less of my sympathy--either because they were pigs or because they were lazy. Certainly, as a little girl who loved her grandmother, Little Red Riding Hood upset me greatly and I learned to be honest and truthful from repeated tellings of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Through all of the stories, though, it seemed that the wolf only took advantage of people (or animals) who let down their guard and were foolish (the duck), lazy (the pigs), gullible (Red Riding Hood) or drama queens (The Boy), I was not any of those things so perhaps wolves were worth another look.

As I grew up, I discovered that the stereotype of wolves, as with most of the other fears from my childhood, did not exactly measure up to their reality, but it was many years before I actually saw one in the wild. In the summer of 2004, Archie, Molly and I went to Yellowstone and in the northeast corner of the park saw two wolves enjoying an elk carcass and drinking from a river. They ate, they lazed in the sun, they played--I could have watched them forever.

Wolves have been re-introduced to several locations in the United States over the past twenty years. They now roam in areas of Wyoming, Idaho, Minnesota and North Carolina. The closest area of wolf habitation to Northern New England is in Algonquin Park Ontario.

Currently, I am reading The Return of the Wolf: Reflections on the Future of Wolves in the Northeast. It is a very interesting collection of essays on the biological and cultural realities of re-introducing wolves into Northern New England and Northern New York State.

What do some of you think of wolves? I know that readers of this blog are from all of the states where wolves have been re-introduced as well as from the Ontario where they have thrived in Algonquin Park and I would be very interested to hear what sort of experiences and ancedotes you can relate from their presence in your area.

It's all running together

2009-01-12T05:49:00.003-05:00

As I was going out the door a few days ago, I realized that my canner was still on the porch where I had left it to cool last Fall after canning some tomatoes. Hmm, --this is January--you last canned in September--why is this still on the porch? I have a lot of dialogues with myself. Well, didn't the skiis stay in the corner of the living room all summer?

Living in Northern New England, I often wonder why we even bother to change our closets over from our winter things to our summer--it would almost make sense to have our few shorts, t-shirts and sundresses in a suitcase in the corner of the bedroom and just pull it out for July and August.

This week is supposed to get frigidly cold with sub-zero wind chills and low temperatures. I guess I should put my canner away, it will be a long time before the ground thaws, things are planted and harvested and put in jars to be processed in boiling water.

Working on a Snowy Sunday

2009-01-11T12:56:00.003-05:00

My primary bird feeding station is just outside of my office window. I was feeling a little sorry for myself having to work all weekend after finishing a long trial week but the Blue Jays came out in the snowstorm to keep me company.

What a long week it was, this first week of January, and did I make my goal to snow shoe or ski at least twice this week? Sadly, no, but hopes and resolutions spring eternal--perhaps next week.

Signs of better times ahead?

2009-01-07T08:17:00.008-05:00

Canary in a Coal Mine
In our backyard there is a large crane that looms over a lumber yard. I've written about it before here. During the last half of 2008, as the economy tanked and the newscasts, newspapers and coffee shops were full of reports of hard times, the lumber yard seemed to be barely chugging along. There were long periods of time when there was very little wood stacked in piles waiting to become plywood--but things started to change late last week.

From my early morning perch at the dining room table with my coffee and laptop, I could hear noises and see lights coming from the lumber yard and it is continuing. There seems to be a constant stream of trucks being unloaded of their 20 tons of wood by the big green crane. This could be a hopeful economic sign. The loggers are able to sell the wood, the gas prices are down for the haulers and the plywood is on its way to Home Depot.

For the People of Maine
Another hopeful sign occurred yesterday as Janet Mills, a woman who I am very proud to call a friend, was sworn in as Maine's first female attorney general. For many years, she was right beside me, protecting me through some of the hardest times of my life and now, the whole state will have the benefit of representation by this brilliant and courageous woman. Here is an excerpt from her remarks yesterday:

I am from the foothills of Western Maine, a place where we look up to the mountains and where we look down and across onto the cities in the lowlands, where the sunsets are bright, snow aplenty, and the soil is still good for growing. Where the river bottoms are lined with ocean sand from some ancient glacier deposit, where there are four definite seasons... seasons of swimming, hunting, skiing and planting.

Today, we are in a season of change, regardless of the calendar, here and in our nation's capital, we are moving the goals, challenging the agenda, taking new roads.

The road I take is one that will open opportunities for every girl growing up in this state who once had dreams but who had to put them aside.

I ran for office because I believed I was the most qualified person for the job. And I hope that history proves it so.

I also ran for every Maine woman and girl who grows up in the shadows of Margaret Chase Smith and who seeks opportunity in this state.

I stand here on behalf of children like my 6-year old niece Julia, who will grow up competing on an equal footing with her wonderful brother Anthony.

Julia, don't ever let anyone tell you can't compete, with friends, classmates, and others, regardless of where they are from, regardless of the color of their skin, their race, their religion, their gender, orientation or beliefs.

Julia, dear, today we begin to color outside the lines. We are changing the lines, and redrawing the lines. Not cutting corners, but improving the road, expanding the landscape, like an Aroostook County sunrise enlarges the horizon.

We are changing something about what is 'normal,' about what is expected and of whom it is expected, here and around our country.

I know that whatever I am able to achieve in this position will be not because of who I am but because of what I do.

Today I begin what I have referred to fondly and with some anticipation, as running the largest law firm in the State of Maine.

Today I begin the job of litigating, negotiating, arbitrating, mitigating,--the job of resolving differences, of defending the people, of heading up a team of men and women who will represent the face of

Maine people in the courts and in the public eye.

And we will do so with integrity and with honor,--to hold the beams and trusses of government sturdy against strong winds.

Much of what we will do will not be heard or heralded. There will be few victory speeches; for the lives that are not lost; for the businesses and consumers made whole; for the workers returned to a job; for the child no longer abused; for the tribal member whose voice is heard; or for a citizen not denied due process.

This will be our quiet work of solving problems diligently before they are known,

Not because they are known.

And if we may touch one life and make it better, if I may change, the course of the state in some small way, if we can make people feel just a bit better about living and working in our state. If I can make that difference, I will count my career, my life, a success, without more.

And I will always count myself so lucky to be standing here today, in this historic Chamber, in the cross beams, if not the cross hairs, of the three branches of government, taking the oath of my predecessors before this most distinguished audience.

Thank you.

Amateur Meteorologists

2009-01-06T19:17:00.004-05:00

With a teenage boy and a high school teacher living under this roof, the night before a predicted storm is full of research, analysis, discussion, speculation and prayer. Adding to my bemusement with the situation is that all of the other River Valley Bloggers are teachers so the research, analysis, discussion and speculation continues through my google reader. Personally, I hope the snowstorm does not materialize, I have a day of driving deeper into 6-10" territory planned and it will be a pain in the neck to re-schedule all of the appointments. But, I won't say that out loud.

When the phone rings at 5:15 a.m. and the school secretary says, "Will you let Charlie know that school is canceled," I will share the excitement along with everyone else and re-schedule my appointments, strap on the snowshoes, stoke up the fire, fill the bird feeders and watch the kids make snow angels.

Water for Elephants

2009-01-03T11:26:00.005-05:00

Normally, I shy away from novels because I never know how they will affect me. Due to the horrors that are routinely part of my job and some difficult years of personal trouble, my brain is unable to deal sensibly with what I think of as the emotional manipulation of certain novels and movies.

Because my children understand better than anyone my low emotional risk tolerance, I trust their recommendations of books and movies. Recently, daughter Sara told me that she had read Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen and thought that I would enjoy it.

Over these first few days of 2009, I have spent hours wrapped up in an electric blanket reading my way through and when I finished it this morning, it left me with all the joy and transportation of a novel and with a few tears--but they were easily managed happy tears. This book could not have had a better ending.

The novel is a good story wrapped up in the setting of circus life during the Depression years. I could almost smell the stale popcorn and feel the gum on my shoe as I followed the adventures of almost-veterinarian Jacob Jankowski as he traveled with the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth.

An interesting note is that the first draft of the novel was written during NaNoWriMo.