Walking....

Today was a cold walk on my dirt road. The sun was shining and the wind finally had died down when I went out around 2 p.m. The fresh snow on the side of the road glistened with rainbow colors. Ugh!
I haven't written anything here in several days because frankly I didn't know what to write. I started a piece about my adopted and biological heritage. That is still in the works. Other random thoughts came to mind but first and foremost I don't want this blog to be a soapbox for any of my political, religious or other somewhat zany views (well maybe just not the controversial ones). I just want this to be about this road and the journey I have been taking on it for almost a year now.
This month alone I have walked 22 days equaling 46 miles. (One day I walked twice.) I don't walk on Sundays. Well lets say I keep the option open. But this month I haven't used it. So out of a possible 26 days for walking I missed 4. The only thing this month that kept me from walking was snow storms and cold. Not bad for an 'old' lady.
When I am out there I spend a lot of time looking. Just looking. I look at the trees, the ground, the dirt. I look in part because I don't want to forget. I want to hold it all inside me. The textures, the shapes, the shadows. I want to be able to close my eyes and see it. I have macular degeneration in both my eyes. It is a progressive disease that will eventually steal away the center of my vision leaving me with peripheral vision. I have been fortunate that up until this point its effects have been more irritating than debilitating. So I look.
Today there were tracks every where. All I know about animals tracks is there was most likely fox, deer, squirrel and chipmunk. Some run parallel with the road. Some come down from the south, go across the road and off to the north. I never see the beasties. I suppose they wait till I have gone past and coming running out and about and hide whenever I turn around. Or they come out after dark and dart and dance in the woods. I don't know because I don't see them. The closest I have got to actually seeing any animals on my walks was a lumbering porcupine one day. That made me slow down. I was pretty sure I didn't want to get to closer to that one. And I saw the hind end of a deer as it ran off through the woods. Other than that I figure they are all hiding waiting for me to walk by so they can come out and play when I am gone.
I notice things like the bark from a tree on the snow. This usually means that there have been woodpeckers busy trying to find something to eat. If you hear them they usually will be towards the top of the tree. This is because it is warmer up there and it any little bugs are to be found they will be found near the top.
I spend a lot of time on my walks just thinking and looking. Sometimes my brain starts working on this blog just to discard thought after thought. Sometimes I just spend my time looking at the trees. That is probably the best thing right now. I can still see the trees.

Birds

I am not a bird watcher but I do watch birds. I know what a few are like the Hairy and Downy woodpeckers, blue jays, chickadees, I guess these are what you would call our 'common' birds.
As humans we have a tendency to 'humanize' animals. Look at them and give the human characteristics. I am no different. In the morning our bird feeders draw in the blue jay crowd. I think of them as friends meeting at the local diner for their morning cup of joe. In this case their morning seed feed. After they have had their discussions, arguments and some good seed they are off. Following them are the chickadees. Now these are very social birds. They hang around the big rhododendron, popping in and out to grab seed and chat. They are not above telling me when the feeders are low or empty. After them are the other little birds. I don't know all the kinds and it really isn't that important to me. A large group of them will come, some will sit and talk at the thistle tube. Some will grab seed from the other feeders and sit on the grapevine cracking open their breakfast. It is amazing to watch these creatures darting in and out, having near misses, arguing and talking amongst themselves.
The woodpeckers will come a various times. They don't seem to have quite the same timetable as the other birds. But they are also not social. They are there for one thing, suet, hanging from the arbor in  2 different places. I buy suet trying to figure out if they like one more than the other. There is a variety of 'flavors' out there. Peanut butter, berry, or buggy. Also a variety of prices. But it comes down to they seem to like everything so really I am only buying the different 'flavors' to suit me.
These birds also give the woods surrounding my dirt road sound. Today as I walked the jays were arguing somewhere in the woods. Their calls surrounding me as I watched them flying high near the tree tops. There were also 2 Downy woodpeckers working diligently on an old maple. One chirped and cheeped at the other making it fly to another area to work  as it took over that branch.
When it is very cold like the last couple of days, it gets very quiet. The birds come to the feeders, stock up and then go where ever it is they hide when it gets that cold. But eventually things warm up a bit and the birds come out of hiding. And the noise comes back with them. I like the noise. And sooner than later spring will come and with it more noises. I really do look forward to that.

Saturday, 1/22/11

 Right now I am watching the buds on the trees and the leaves on my rhododendron. Did you know that the leaves on a 'rhodie will lose some color and fold down against the branches when the temperature goes below freezing? It is a survival technique. Reduce the surface area and less dehydration occurs for the plant. I use that large 'rhodie outside our bay window as sort of a thermometer. When the leaves come up and into normal position, I know its a relatively nice day out. But if they are down, like now, you know its cold.It's like the buds on the trees. Now everybody (myself included) is moaning and groaning about the cold and the snow. We all act like it is never going to end. This is it everybody, January forever! But the truth is time moves on. We can't stop it. It is inevitable. The trees don't know any different. It is what it is. They grow taller, some live, some die, some end up as firewood being burned in my furnace. They continue. Last fall the leaves changed color into reds, yellows and/or browns. Then they fell off the trees, littering the road and the woods. Some ended up in burrows to help keep small rodents warm during the winter months. For the trees that fall into the deciduous category (that is trees that lose their leaves annually or seasonally) this is just what they are suppose to do. The branches are bare and often stark again the blue skies of winter. Sometimes they are covered in snow making them look like intricate lace. About now is when you can notice if you look up towards the tops of the trees there are buds. They are small but they are there. These are the trees flowers. They come despite the cold and snow. And it doesn't change, every year they are there proclaiming that once again we are heading towards spring. They are truly the first harbingers of spring. I watch them starting their slow movement towards spring. And at the worse of times, when I have shoveled the same path 3 times and the snow is still coming down or when I go outside for my walk and I can feel my nose hairs freeze, those buds are still growing.
Soon it will be February. And then March. March brings sugaring season. You can start out by having snow up and beyond your knees when you first tap and by the end of the season you can be walking on almost bare ground. The end of sugaring season is when the trees 'blush'. That is, they are flowering and it's time to pull the taps out of the sugar maples and let them use that sap to continue their growth. When you look at the hillsides you can see the 'blush' of those trees, the hills are pink, red and yellow.  And believe it or not summer will come around again and we can start complaining about the heat.
It's really not  fun right now walking down my dirt road. It's a misery. But as I have said before there are those winter days that well, don't make up for it, but remind me why I live here. And sooner but more than likely later, spring will come. I will be looking for the red winged blackbirds, the dog tooth violets and the spotted salamanders and without fail they will be there.
So hang in there. The snow will melt, eventually. The temperatures will break 32*, eventually. And, eventually, it will be spring. But definitely not soon enough.

Snow

The artist in me appreciates the detail snow brings out on the trees. The way it smooths the landscape into soft hills and valleys. The gardener in me sees it as a blanket covering my perennials and keeping them safe during their winter sleep. The human in me says, 'Okay, so aren't we over this winter thing yet?'
After hours of plowing out our driveway and the neighbor's driveway (who is also the world's best dog sitter) and ages spent on shoveling pathways  which the dogs will use for their 'toilet'. And  having to go out and sand the driveway and stairs to the back door and front door, I have had enough. I want for snow no more. Sure its pretty to look at and a part of me suggests I just hunker down for the winter with a larder well stocked in the basics and chocolate waiting for spring to burst upon me with no shoveling involved. Truth be known, there are places to go and people to see.
I have 3 part-time jobs that require that I be able to leave the house. I have a husband that needs to get to his job but more importantly I have dogs. Little dogs that require shoveling of paths. Right now the snow is deeper than they are high so paths must be shoveled so they can attend to their daily duties. If I had a large dog or dogs I could merely open the door, wish them the best and let them go. But these are little dogs and they are old dogs. So like a faithful servant I attend to their needs which consists of diets, medicine and shoveling.
Don't get me wrong, when they were younger I wasn't as attentive. There were days in the midst of kids getting ready for school, husband for work and me to my various jobs that I merely opened the door and tossed those dogs into the cold. It is funny, no matter what you say to watch a dog 'swim' through snow. And one little dog we had would spend hours looking for the snow ball I had tossed out into the snow covered yard.
But I have had enough. I would move if I thought there was someplace I would love as much as our home on this dirt road. But I have to admit there isn't. But maybe the next dog will have longer legs so there won't me as much shoveling involved during the winter. Still after all that I went for a walk, talked to some neighbors and just enjoyed the snow, from a distance.

It ain't snow.

I don't know what is coming out of our dark VT skies on this dirt road but I do know one thing, it ain't snow.
We are among the fortunate to own a one ton pick up with a plow named Bubba. That's right this bad boy has a name. It is just about a necessity when you live out in the middle of nowhere. For years we had to wait to be plowed out, sometimes hours, sometimes a couple of days. And one time when feeling a bit full of piss and vinegar and it was an unusually pleasant day I even shoveled us out. Mind you that is the act of cabin fever because our driveway is about 350 ft. long. This is not including the parking area on top.
It is great owning a plow truck. I can't say that it financially is a wise decision. But it is paid for so the costs are sometimes minimal. Insurance, registration, repairs that kind of thing. It is also nice to have because hubby works for a college maintenance department and can use the truck on occasion to pick up lumber on his way to work. And we have it for those times when we need lumber, dirt or mulch.
Now plowing when you only have to do one driveway can be very zen. Sweeping the snow up with the plow and depositing it into banks. Taking your time to clear the parking area. Pushing the banks as far back as you can, slowly. But there is a dark side to plowing. Going off the driveway is the big one. Every year we say we should widen our driveway in this one spot. It is the spot where if you get just a little too close you go right into the ditch there. One year Bubba spent several days in the ditch. We were both disgusted and decided we would walk up the driveway. Finally we had to dig it out. 6 hours of what we like to call 'quality bonding time' finally saw the release of the truck from the ditches cruel grasp. My hubby continued the plowing endeavor while I move my vehicle onto the road. I sat there in the dark, watching the headlights and taillights of the truck while my hubby went up and down the driveway. Then it occurred to me that the he was either done or he had gone into the ditch on the opposite side of the driveway. Well another 6 hours of  'quality bonding time' saw the Bubba back on the driveway. This time there was no more plowing. We didn't care anymore if the driveway was plowed, we just wanted the truck back up in its parking spot. We didn't even care if our cars could make it up the driveway. Just the truck. No more digging and using the come-along and more digging. Just the peace and quiet of our house. With Bubba outside, standing guard.

January 17, 2011

Our thermometer lies to us. Since our house faces south and there are no trees near it, the thermometer is nailed to one the posts for the arbor. It's one of those large faced units that you can see from 25 ft. away. But it lies. It's not it's fault since being on the post means it is out in the sun. So today with the crystal blue skies and the light breeze making my wind chimes dance, the thermometer reads 30*. It is not 30*. It is nowhere near 30*. It might be 10* or 13*, a bit lower with the breeze, but not 30*.
Still I suited up and went out for my walk. Knowing full well that the thermometer lies but trying to believe that it didn't. When I say suit up that is pretty much what I mean. Long johns and snow pants. Three layers on top with an orange puffy vest so hunters don't mistake me for an overfed deer or bear. Mittens, a hat with a brim, ear muffs and a neck tube. By the time I am done and out the door the only skin exposed are the tops of my cheeks. Everything else is covered and stays fairly warm. I even have those mittens were the tops fold back into fingerless gloves. Which is great for being able to use the camera or blow my nose. Today I had to stops several times to pull up the neck tube to warm my cheeks. I know you are saying just keep it up. I can't. I wear glasses and the world becomes one gigantic blur when the glasses fog up from my breath. Neither can I take the glasses off because I would be able to see where I was going. Just one conundrum after another.
But within minutes of returning to the warmth of my home I can once again feel my face in it entirety. Is it worth the discomfort? I think so. I stopped and watched a woodpecker some 30 ft up in a tree. It was the only sound to be heard, it's pecking trying to find food echoing off the other trees and in the far distance the sound of a second woodpecker doing the same. Then there were 2 different sets of deer prints coming and going to the beaver pond. I have only seen 1 deer in the 11 months I have been hiking this road. But many times I see their prints on the road, coming from the woods in the north to the beaver pond and old orchard areas to the south. I have seen moose print and moose. But for the most part my walks are solitary and quiet. And that is how I like them.

The Mad Red Squirrel & Me

Wild creatures have kept their distance from our homestead on this dirt road. With the exception of one juvenile raccoon who got drunk on our grapes and one skunk who would have liked to eat the grapes.
For the most part we live in harmony with the wild things. They have kept their distance and we have kept ours. But last year things changed. A new element moved into the neighborhood, the Mad Red Squirrel. Now, mind you it's not like we have lived out here oblivious to squirrels, red or other wise. But mostly they have gone their way and we have gone ours. They have used the birdhouses for storage bins and we have let them because it seems to have kept them from trying to use our house as a storage bin. I have let them steal birdseed. Mostly because I love to tap on the window or door and watch them throw themselves off our arbor onto the snowbanks and run as fast as their little legs could carry them to the safety of the nearby woods. It has been a rewarding relationship for them and an amusing one for me.
But this squirrel is different. He has attitude, like I owe him. He got into my dried gourds out on the side deck and broke open every one of them. When I stood out there looking at this random act of violence (at least against the gourds) he (and I say he as a general term) stood on the peak of our shed yelling at me or at least what I would take for yelling. I clapped my hands to scare him and he ran behind the shed, stuck his head out and renewed his tirade. And our relationship has not improved.
I grew sunflowers last summer and Mad Red Squirrel liked that. When the smaller heads were almost mature he would attack them. Leaving behind petals and pieces of seed. The final straw with this little, furry, delinquent was the day his stood on my tomato fence, directly opposite my front door, looked straight at me and began to pull the petals out of a sunflower head he had taken down. It was as if he was challenging me. Saying, 'Here, look at me! Look at what I can do!' Once he had completed his task and the petals lay on the ground, he dropped the seed head and ran off.
No, we are not done with each other yet. He still comes to steal seed and boldly sits there on the ground in front of my door, challenging me to come out and try to get him. He thinks he is safe on the other side of the glass but he's not. Some day, at some time, I will catch him and victory will be mine!!! But until then, I will look both ways and make noise before I go out, you never know where the Mad Red Squirrel might be!

Where you live.

No matter where you live on pavement or a dirt road you have to compromise. Living out in the woods where we are means I can have the biggest damn garden I want. But it also means that the grocery store (a good size one) is a 40 min. drive away. It also means that we don't have a fire department or a lot of things people living in the city or suburbia have. This come most apparent when there is a fire. Twenty-five years ago, on the weekend after Thanksgiving we lost our first home in a fire. We, fortunately, weren't home. The path of the fire would have cost us our lives.
Our neighbors scrambled to do what they could. On neighbor grabbed our 2 rabbits out of their hutch and saved them. He and another neighbor managed to save 2 pieces of artwork, a night stand and a couple of drawers with belongings in them. Other than those meager items, the clothes on our backs and in our suitcases, we had nothing. Our dogs survived but out beloved cats did not. We had to start over.
I don't think about the fire as much as I use to. I realize that one thing about dirt road living is if a fire starts chances are you will lose everything. It is not from the lack of a willing volunteer fire department but because of the age and construction of a building or the time it takes to get to a property. But it always hits home when I hear about a fire and a family and their loss.
Bea Fisher over in Grafton lost her home recently. And yesterday the Garrow family in Athens lost theirs. 
What I remember most about that time in our lives is the generosity of friends, family and strangers. A neighbor let us live at his house (a 2nd home, a camp really) right down the road from our property. It had no electricity but it did have a generator. But I admit after a week of  'rough' living I was ready to move. I spent a lot of time shopping after that fire. And don't you believe that anybody can't get tired of shopping. Remember this was a month before Christmas. I had all my presents bought and wrapped, now they had all gone up in smoke. We had a 4 1/2 yr old son (Eli)  and a new born (Eric). The baby might not have minded no presents Christmas morning but Eli sure would have.
The most amazing thing is one day after yet another trip to the store I came back to find about 8-10 garbage bags lined up on the deck of the house we were staying at. They were filled with clothes and stuff. Baby clothes, little boy clothes, clothes for me, Don, blankets. It inspiring. We never knew who made that donation or the many others we received but we have always tried in some small way to pay it forward.
We still live on that same property, on that same dirt road. We built a new home for our family there. We never had second thoughts or doubts that this was the place we wanted to be and that was because of the people that surrounded us with generosity and love.
You can lose a lot of material things in a fire. But the one thing you may find is, you will always have more than you lost if you are surrounded by a good community. And this community whether some will admit it or not is good. They have proved it time and time again and will continue doing so as long as there are dirt roads.

Pretend you're at the beach.

So well you may wonder why in this cold winter wonderland am I asking you to pretend you're at a beach. It's not just to escape the 20 inches of snow, the wind blowing through the trees or that fact that it is just plain cold. Walking on a dirt road the day after a snow storm is like walking on the beach. If you have ever walked on a beach you know how tiring it can be. It seems like more effort. Your foot goes down into the sand and you have to push through the ball of your foot to keep moving. It is almost as if the sand is trying to hold your foot so you can't move forward. Dirt roads are like that after a storm.
When dirt roads are plowed they don't try to scrape all the snow off. A layer is left of compressed snow about 1/2'' to an inch thick. Now the road underneath this snow had pockets and ridges from tires and such. Then the snow fills in these ridges. And on top of this, a layer of sand is thrown. All of this is fine to drive on as long as you have the appropriate vehicle but walking on it is like the beach. Its basically loosens up and shifts as you walk. So it feels like walking on the beach.
The other thing about dirt roads in the winter is you realize different they are to drive on. While a paved road will probably be back to pavement in a day or two after a storm. It might be weeks before the dirt road completely reappears from under its layer of snow and winter sand. After all, it is a dirt road.
The first year we lived on this road we had a red 4 wheel drive truck. I don't know what kind it was all I know is it was a standard and I learned how to pop a clutch with it. Anyway, another feature about dirt roads is they usually don't have shoulders to them, instead there are ditches or trees. And a lot of roads are just barely 2 car widths wide. Which if you are a 'flatlander' like me can make life rough. There are certain 'rules of etiquette' to dirt road driving. The first and foremost is if the road is narrow and two vehicles meet, the one closest to a driveway pulls into that driveway or backs up to that driveway. If there is no driveway then it is whoever is closest to the widest part of the road pulls over or backs up to that part. In my case, I spent most of the first winter on this road in a ditch. I had a hard time accepting there was no shoulder on the road. So I would be polite (being a truck usually gives a car the right of way) and would pull over to let a car pass me and viola! into the ditch I would go. Luckily we had a friend who would come and pull me out. It was embarrassing  but I learned eventually about the proper use of 4 WD as applied to getting yourself out of a ditch. Most of that consists of making sure your vehicle is not hung up on anything. That no part of the frame or body is sitting on a rock wall or tree stump. Carry a shovel with you, you may have to either dig snow or dirt out away from the tires. According to which direction you are going to try to go, make sure your front wheels are pointing in that direction. Get in, make sure you are in the appropriate gear, that the 4 wheel drive is engaged, pray like hell and hit the gas. Some times you will actually make it out. But most times you won't. So make sure you either have friends with trucks or tractors that can help. Or a 'come a-long' is always a worthwhile investment. Don't forget chains or straps. I never said living on a dirt road was easy. And having a dirt driveway? Well that my friends is a whole 'nother story.

My dog Grace

Dirt roads and dogs go together. There is nothing more fun than to watch a dog be able to run in and out of the woods sniffing the world till it seems their senses would overload from the joy of it.
I am a dog person. Big, little or in between I love dogs. I love the smell of a puppy's breath. I love
how they chase their own tails or take up the whole bed (no matter how big or small they are) when they sleep.
Not to say cats do not have their place in my life. We have had many exemplary cats but this is about dogs in general and Gracie in particular.
Gracie will be 15 years old this coming March. By no means the oldest dog we have had. That honor goes to Daisy our rescue greyhound who lived to be 17 1/2 yrs old. But Gracie is my dog. She has never been the family dog or somebody else's dog, she has always been my dog. And a grace in my life she has been. When I had breast cancer and felt at my lowest point. The kind of sorrow you can't share with your spouse or children, I had Grace
We had 5 cats when Gracie first came into our lives. Lily and her 4 kids, Hogan, Clarissa, Sophie and Cleome. When I got Grace home she was smaller than they were and they seem to think she was some horribly deformed kitten so they immediately adopted her. She bonded the most closely with Hogan our big male cat. She slept with him and cleaned his ears. They were buds back in the day. When I took walks back then I was usually accompanied by Gracie and the cats. It was like a circus. Lily the mama would scurry up trees to see what was ahead or behind. Hogan would try to climb trees but about 2 feet up would realize he was not built for it. The other cats and Gracie would just go here, there and every where. I had to keep my ears open for cars, so I could sound the alert. The cats would head into the woods and Gracie into my arms. 
Grace due to the terrier in her has been a 'ratter' by nature. In her youth there was no mole, vole or rodent of any kind safe from her. But she also had patience to sit and wait. And now I am learning a little bit more about being patience from her. We are waiting in a sense for the end. The biggest problems with dogs is you out live them. Time and time again you fall in love with a puppy only to realize they live their lives a lot faster than we do. At some point we have to say goodbye to our faithful friends and no matter how many dogs you have had it hurts. It always hurts.  Gracie may live another year or two I don't know. But today I just felt sad that I would have to say goodbye to my best friend sooner than later. Maybe that is why we have animals in our lives. To remind us to love those around us. Not to be afraid to give of ourselves over and over again even if we know there will be hurt involved.
Well that is it. There are lots of funny stories about the many animals we have had over the years. Panama the dog eating the leather chair buttons, Agatha the cat who lived in the bathroom, Al the rat, lover of frozen blueberries. I wouldn't give up one single moment with any of them. Just like I wouldn't give up one moment with my friends, family and this dirt road.
One final thought on animals. Gracie along with many of the pets we had through the years is a rescue dog from the Humane Society outside of Brattleboro on Rte. 30. I firmly believe in the spaying and neutering of our animals. And I hope that anybody who reads this blog would take those facts into consideration when thinking about getting a pet. There are so many places out there with animals that need 'forever' homes.  So do your research and find yourself a BFF.

It's Monday!

The sky is blue. What a simple sentence but what an understatement. It's bright blue, sunshine blue, clear as a crystal blue, outstanding blue. The sky is blue.
There are times on my walks when I stop in the middle of the road, close my eyes and listen. Okay, first don't do this where there is more than 1 car an hour or on a paved road. Cars, trucks or other vehicles will not only ruin the mood but really hurt if they hit you. Anyway, I stop, close my eyes and listen. Sound can play many tricks on you. Our road is between 2 hills. Not at the base of the hills as that is where the creek, wetlands and pond are but up a few hundred feet. Sound bounces and carries up, down and around this little valley. There are days when I can't tell if the car I am hearing is on Rte. 35 or coming down our road. Or during the summer which house the voices I hear are drifting in from. But during the winter you can listen to the wind, the trees as branches rub across each other, to nothing. To noises that aren't noises. They are sounds in and from the woods. Maybe a bird hopping from branch to branch or a squirrel running along the ground. Even the quiet steps of a deer.
Warm months bring more noise, more life to the woods. Now is a quiet time, a time of reflection. And days like today are the ones that start with 'the sky is blue'.

It's snowing...

Yea I know, state the obvious, it's snowing.
Winter in general can be considered the most unpleasant of seasons if you do not participate in any of the outdoor activities that can be done in snowy, frigid weather. I don't do these activities yet I find winter strangely enthralling as I wait for spring.
In the winter you can see the 'bones' of the woods that surround my dirt road. During the warmer months when the trees have leaved out and the ferns and understory plants have once again filled in you don't really see much. But during the winter months you can see the 'debris' that litters the woodland floor before the snow hides it from view. I am always amazed at all the branches and fallen trees that there are. And I am also dismayed on how people use the woods to toss their empty containers, tires or other trash from their lives.
This past May during Green Up day, my husband and I picked up 6 tires, remnants from 1 mini-motorcycle and about 6 bags of trash. That is from 1 mile of road. That is just plain wrong.
Well I digress. I was talking about the snow. It has been snowing here for several hours but there is probably no more than 3/8th of an inch of snow on the ground. I would suppose if I hunted this would be good tracking snow. Enough to cover the ground so you can see tracks but not enough to impede your progress. Also is is falling almost straight down so you can see quite a distance into the woods. The one drawback of this snow is it is 'dry'. It isn't snowball snow or snowman snow. It is like powder, soft and fine. And it squeaks when you walk on it. That's right it squeaks. Normally walking on a dirt road means you hear a crunch sort of sound beneath the soles of your boots. Today, squeaks. Its dry and it rubs together when you step on it, so it squeaks. It also is not silent snow. Because it is 'dry' when it hits the dried up beech leaves hanging on the branches or the material of my vest it makes a noise. Just a small sound. You have to stand quite still to hear it but it is all around.
This is why I like winter. I don't like freezing my butt off or having to take 10 minutes just to get all dressed up to go outside but once out there, it is amazing. The world changes when the leaves are off the trees and the ground it covered with some snow.
So take a minute, pretend your a kid again and throw yourself into a pile of snow and make a snow angel. And next time there is a good snowman snow, go out and make one. That's what I'm going to do. 

My road, west to east or maybe east to west.

Now that I have started a blog I suppose I should give you more information about the road I live on.

This road runs east to west and like most roads follows the contours of the land. That is to say there are some places where you can stand and see the road a quarter of a mile away as it curves and winds its way towards east or west. Both ends of the road end up on Rte. 35, the major road that cuts through Athens.

The west end is less than a mile from the Townshend line. About a half mile or so from the end of the road is the beaver pond. It has been here since we purchased our land and before and has no other name than the beaver pond.

I have watched the ebb and flow of this pond since I moved here. Putting my baby Eli into a backpack and trekking around the edges of the pond, finding the remnants of an old sugar house and the remains of an old apple orchard. The pond is where the deer and moose come. Where the beaver live and maintain the dam and where the geese come in the spring to nest and raise their young.­

Twice since I have lived here I have seen the pond nearly drained of all water due to natural catastrophes. Once when beaver no longer plied their trade in this pond the unattended dam finally gave way during a storm. The rush of water took about 400 feet of road out, about 4 to 5 foot deep. A property owner next to the pond at that time had fill brought in and a man-made earthen dam took the place of most of the old beaver dam.

The second time this happened, there was what is called a micro-burst. It rained very hard for a brief period of time but this event caused a beaver dam further up to give way. The rushing water didn't destroy our dam this time but overwhelmed it, carrying debris down the short length of creek bed to an old stone culvert. A portion of a tree became jammed and debris became caught in this and caused the water to overflow the road. This time the damage was much more extensive. For this 'cloudburst' had caused a section of our road with several houses on it to become isolated from the rest of the town in a very real way. It tore the underground phone line out and the power went out. It is hard to imagine but a 12 foot by 40 foot culvert that our road had lain over in bridge like fashion now lay at the bottom of a washed out creek bed. McKusker Road which connects to Reed Road was reduced to a pathway of 3 feet wide for a good part of its length. And where the water had overcome the stone culvert, 500 feet of road was washed away and there was a trench of approximately 6 feet or more deep. Vermont is a state built on ledge and here you could see the ledge shelf that the road had once kept hidden.

It was frightening and fascinating. I couldn't call my husband Don or son Eric to warn them of what happened. Nor for a time being could anyone go across these breaches to see if everyone was alright.

Response from the state was immediate and welcomed. By the time night had fallen, my husband had been able to park his car up off of McKusker and walk to our house. Our son was safe at a friend's in Bellows Falls and trucks, machinery, manpower and dirt were coming in and reconnecting our road.

That beaver pond is still my favorite view. To the north you can see two houses on adjoining hillsides. One owned for 2 generations by one family and the other goes by the name of Turkey Roost. I have watched the geese glide over mirror still water with early morning mist rising around their bodies. I have seen the spectacular change of color on the hillsides from green to gold to flaming red. I have brought my kids there to see the blue heron or listen for the beaver slapping it tail against the water.  Sometimes in life you need a spot where you can just stand and breathe. This is my spot. It is not my land and I don't know how long it will exist. But for the here and now this is where it all comes together for me.

 The east end comes out and over a creek or stream, which ever you prefer to call it. If you look up the hill across from this end you can see part of the stone wall of the West Cemetery. This cemetery dates back to the 1700's and contains the headstones of some of our town founders.

Less than an eighth of a mile before the east end, my road is bisected by 2 other roads. One is McKusker and the other is Ernst. McKusker has a fine, large red house that sits on one side of the road, with a fine view of the hills and open fields. This house used to be an inn. The part facing the road is actually the backside of the house. The front now faces woodland. The road use to swing around the inn so stage coach passengers could be let off. You have to remember that back in the 1800's it was all fields and pasture. So the front of the inn would have been facing fields. Vermont was a state of farms and farmers. There were sheep, cows and sugarbush. The trees we see now were not there. This is all 'new' growth in a sense.

The other road, Ernst is truly a road to nowhere. At one time it did have a destination, silly as it seems, it looped around to Rte. 35. But over the years the expense of maintaining a portion of road that no one lived on or rarely used due to washouts,  that part of the road was 'thrown up', a term to refer to the fact that this portion of the road is a public pathway.

The busiest time this road has seen in many years was 31 years ago when a farmhouse and 100+ acres were sold, logged off and subdivided. Most of us at the west end of the road have been here about the same length of time.  The east end has some older homes, a couple of newer ones and at least 1 family that has lived here for 2 or more generations.

It is a typical dirt road, a combination of old and new, families that can walk through the local graveyard and touch the headstones of their ancestors. And families that have come from different states to make this road their home.

A Country Mile

Have you ever thought about that term 'A country mile'? That is what basically started this whole trip. A mile down a dirt road.
I have been overweight for a number of years. I prefer the term 'well rounded'. You know its time to do something when the baby weight you gained has not only multiplied but the baby is 24.
It was time. The day was February 26, 2010 and I decided I could walk that country mile. From the top of my driveway to the west end of my road is almost a mile. And I could do it. Just barely. As I dragged myself the last few feet where my road meets with Rte. 35 I thought this is it, I am going to die here. My body will fall into the ditch and not be found till spring.
You have to realize on a dirt road there are no shoulders to pull over onto. There are ditches. Some are not very deep and some can swallow a car whole. My road has both kinds. And I am sure the ditch that I was about to go into was the kind that would swallow me whole.
But I had made it.  And unfortunately I had to make it back home. But as you can guess I did it and continued doing it. Not every day I don't have that kind of determination. But I did keep going out. Sometimes in snow, wind and rain. I kept walking that country mile. Through mud season, spring, black flies, summer, deer flies, fall, frost and now snow, I keep walking that mile. I figure I have walked over 460 miles down my dirt road. It is easier now by it is not easy.
I have seen this road through 4 seasons. Really seen it. Not driven down the road and quickly glanced at the scenery. I have stopped, listened, looked and been amazed. That is what I want to share. There is a lot of craziness in the world. But there is beauty, peace and grace if you look for it. Mine is in 1 mile of road.
Not to say I won't mention other places. I am hoping now that I am 40 lbs lighter that there are some other places for me to walk. Places that reveal themselves to me as this road has done.
Did I tell you that this is not an 'original' dirt road? No, the 'original' road is asleep up in the woods not too far from the road I walk. But that is another story.

Sunday January 2, 2011

This is just the beginning. I have long thought that I might someday write my thoughts down if for no other reason than the words sometimes just spin around in my head making me a little crazy. Okay, a little more than my usual crazy.
I live in a small town. No, a really small town. I haven't checked the most recent census but in 2000 there were 339 people in this town other than me. That is approximately 125 households. There are more dogs, cats and cows in this town than people. We have a church, a town office and a school that is now closed. We do have a brick meeting house that is on the Historical Register but we can't afford to keep it up. We have 2 cemeteries, one is full so don't even think about trying to get in and the other, well we are working on an expansion project.
Most of the roads in town are dirt. Never when I was growing up in western MA did I ever think I would live on a dirt road. But I have now for about 31 years. And surprisingly enough dirt gets into your veins. Once you have lived away from the pavement and crowds you don't want to go back. I mean, hey, I'll visit, but live in a house on a less than a quarter acre? Nope, ain't gonna happen.
We own 10 acres of paradise, on a dirt road in a small town in Vermont. And this is the beginning of my story here in the woods.