The weather, the road and me have been having some rough times as of late.
First the weather. As of Sunday evening the time of the vernal equinox, spring had come to this dirt road. Unfortunately somebody forgot to send out the memo because we woke up to snow on Monday morning. On the up side, it is March so we know the snow will not hang around for long. On the down side, it's spring damn it! I want sunshine, daffodils and turkey vultures!
The road is having a tough time because you can't really plow 1 1/2" of snow. Least not on a dirt road. The plow will usually end up plowing up the dirt so the solution is time and sand.
And finally me. Well I suppose it is inevitable that I will have to have at least one hell of a cold every winter no matter how hard I try to avoid it. I have never understood the term 'catch a cold'. Why on earth would I want to 'catch a cold'. Pure and simple to have a cold is a misery. Colds go in phases and the phases don't really last more than a few hours but those hours might as well be days. And now that my kids are grown and gone I no longer have to put on a brave face, go to work and try to be a good mommy. I can be as miserable as I want and I am.
Saturday started with a mild, dry cough which escalated into an upper chest painful cough. This was accompanied by the typical stuffed and/or runny nose. (Why did I not invest in Kleenex tissue stock?) From there the temperature starts to go up. The cough gets worse because now it is 'loose'. My mother would say that was a good thing but for the life of me I can't understand why. I suppose it has to do with being able to spit out the phlegm. Something I just never got the hang of and to this day regret that my Dad did not teach me to 'hawk a louie'. To add to the spice of being sick I added in a migraine. Don't ever do anything half way I say. Last night was the night that sleep eluded me. I have an elderly dog with a cough. Actually she has several coughs and I am starting to believe she can do some of them at will. Last night was the gentle lady like cough. Not really too loud but done at just the right intervals that you never get more than 10 minutes of sleep at a time. So today the bags under my eyes look very similar to carry on luggage.
Today I can tell that things are getting better. The cough is slowly subsiding which is great because I think at this point my lung capacity has been greatly reduced. Going upstairs I have to stop half way up for a little breather. The nose is still putting out vast amount of, to put it politely, snot. It has and always will amaze me how much snot sinuses can produce. You would think that there would be a production limit but there isn't.
I will have to say my hubby has been a brick through all of this. He even took yesterday off to stay home with me. He did all of the cooking and in his mind the cleaning too. But we won't go there. He made me my favorite egg drop chicken broth with homemade noodles. Not once but twice! He got me ginger ale to drink and ice cream because we both are firm believers ice cream can cure almost anything. And during all of this he managed between Saturday and Sunday to boil down some 60+ gallons of sap into 1 1/2 gallons of Capp's Own Special Syrup. (And the season is not over yet!)
So like the road, life has not gone smoothly or as planned which is typical of life in general. Spring has not sprung and weather forecast for the week is more winter like than hoped for. But the red-winged black birds have been gracing my birdfeeders and I have been watching the robins busy feeding on the sumac seeds. So it really is right around the corner along with the end of this cold. It all take time and patience which we all know we are short of at this time of year.
Both my cold and the cold will retreat in time. But it is hard this time of year with the high expectations of the spring and summer to come. At least my tomato seedlings are starting to sprout. Now that gives me hope!
22 March 2011
18 March 2011
The fifth season
Up here in Vermont we have a fifth season known as mud season. It is when the snow pack and the dirt roads combine and make mud.
Now one thing about dirt roads during this time of renewal is they do not act like your normal paved road. Oh they have pot holes but then they also have soft spots, ruts, washboards and are slicker than all get out. Whatever you do don't slam on your brakes. Hit the deer or squirrel, its better than slamming on the brakes and doing a long, slow motion slide into a ditch. Because once you hit the ditch you will not be going anywhere any time soon. One of the other unique qualities of a ditch at this time of year is the sides have a tendency to collapse. And of course they are full of ice cold rushing water.
Dirt roads are exciting during mud season. You don't know from the time you left in the morning till the time you get home at night what condition your road will be in. One year we had a soft spot so big that our full size school bus sank up and beyond its axles in it. And so did my car and a neighbors car. Soft spots look okay until you drive on them. They are a dirt road equivalent to quick sand from the old movies. Looks okay but one wrong move and its goodbye car, truck or even bus.
The ruts are like driving down a course you cannot get out of. If you turn your steering wheel too hard and try to direct your car out of the ruts you might find yourself in a ditch or up against a tree because at some point you will hit your brakes in desperation and go sliding across the road.
Washboard is what it sounds like. Many bumps one after another whose only goal in life is to shake loose every screw and bolt in your vehicle and every filling in your head.
Mud becomes ingrained in every fiber of your being this time of year. Your vehicle is covered with it, you walk through it (hey, the driveways around here are dirt too!), your animals track it through the house and at some point you will slide on it and fall into it.
Mud, its not just for face masks or body wraps. Its also for driving on, skidding through and hell, up here we just plain enjoy the challenge. That is one reason why you see so many of us with beat up 4 wheel drive trucks. Mud, share the fun!
Now one thing about dirt roads during this time of renewal is they do not act like your normal paved road. Oh they have pot holes but then they also have soft spots, ruts, washboards and are slicker than all get out. Whatever you do don't slam on your brakes. Hit the deer or squirrel, its better than slamming on the brakes and doing a long, slow motion slide into a ditch. Because once you hit the ditch you will not be going anywhere any time soon. One of the other unique qualities of a ditch at this time of year is the sides have a tendency to collapse. And of course they are full of ice cold rushing water.
Dirt roads are exciting during mud season. You don't know from the time you left in the morning till the time you get home at night what condition your road will be in. One year we had a soft spot so big that our full size school bus sank up and beyond its axles in it. And so did my car and a neighbors car. Soft spots look okay until you drive on them. They are a dirt road equivalent to quick sand from the old movies. Looks okay but one wrong move and its goodbye car, truck or even bus.
The ruts are like driving down a course you cannot get out of. If you turn your steering wheel too hard and try to direct your car out of the ruts you might find yourself in a ditch or up against a tree because at some point you will hit your brakes in desperation and go sliding across the road.
Washboard is what it sounds like. Many bumps one after another whose only goal in life is to shake loose every screw and bolt in your vehicle and every filling in your head.
Mud becomes ingrained in every fiber of your being this time of year. Your vehicle is covered with it, you walk through it (hey, the driveways around here are dirt too!), your animals track it through the house and at some point you will slide on it and fall into it.
Mud, its not just for face masks or body wraps. Its also for driving on, skidding through and hell, up here we just plain enjoy the challenge. That is one reason why you see so many of us with beat up 4 wheel drive trucks. Mud, share the fun!
14 March 2011
Time changes.
I have discovered as I grow older time changes. Not just the 'falling' back in the fall or the 'springing ahead' in the spring but time itself.
When I was young and in school time was a matter of holidays, vacations and tests. As I grew older time became semesters and lovers. Then I married and time became my husband and then my children.
Time was when this dirt road was further up in the woods. Then time passed and the people who had lived up there moved or died, their houses becoming cellar holes to be discovered in the woods. Time moved on and the road moved and new people came to live here. And there will be a time when we are gone. And who knows where this road will end up.
But for now time has become more seasonal for me. I no longer count the days till a holiday, my birthday or vacation. I look around me and try to discern the changes that the seasons are bringing. Last week I couldn't see the ditches by the road. This week the water is running freely and in many areas the snow has receded. The buds look a little fatter on the trees. This morning there was a red-winged black bird at our feeders. I keep time by the sun passing in the sky. Not very accurate but I can tell the difference between early morning and early evening. I have plenty of clocks in my house to tell me the 'real' time so I can be to my job or make appointments without being late.
Time has put gray hair at the temples of my husband. It has grown my boys into men. It has given me more freckles and changed my face with a fine web of wrinkles and laugh lines. Time has been hard and forgiving. I have been given more time thanks to surgery and radiation. But there is never enough time.
I have less time in front of me and more time behind me. It really always comes down to time.
You can lose time or waste time. But you can never regain time. So don't mess it up this time. Take the time to enjoy a sunset or sunrise. Stop and listen, to the city or the county. This is the only time you have.
When I was young and in school time was a matter of holidays, vacations and tests. As I grew older time became semesters and lovers. Then I married and time became my husband and then my children.
Time was when this dirt road was further up in the woods. Then time passed and the people who had lived up there moved or died, their houses becoming cellar holes to be discovered in the woods. Time moved on and the road moved and new people came to live here. And there will be a time when we are gone. And who knows where this road will end up.
But for now time has become more seasonal for me. I no longer count the days till a holiday, my birthday or vacation. I look around me and try to discern the changes that the seasons are bringing. Last week I couldn't see the ditches by the road. This week the water is running freely and in many areas the snow has receded. The buds look a little fatter on the trees. This morning there was a red-winged black bird at our feeders. I keep time by the sun passing in the sky. Not very accurate but I can tell the difference between early morning and early evening. I have plenty of clocks in my house to tell me the 'real' time so I can be to my job or make appointments without being late.
Time has put gray hair at the temples of my husband. It has grown my boys into men. It has given me more freckles and changed my face with a fine web of wrinkles and laugh lines. Time has been hard and forgiving. I have been given more time thanks to surgery and radiation. But there is never enough time.
I have less time in front of me and more time behind me. It really always comes down to time.
You can lose time or waste time. But you can never regain time. So don't mess it up this time. Take the time to enjoy a sunset or sunrise. Stop and listen, to the city or the county. This is the only time you have.
10 March 2011
It's all how you look at it.
Today saw me and the hubby take a little trip up north. Off the dirt road, up through the Falls and then onto I-91. Then about an hour north, off to I-89 and down to exit 19. From there it's just down the road a bit, a place called Dartmouth-Hitchcock. From the outside it looks like some great shopping center. And it is one of sorts. Your really have to look at it for a moment before you realize that the 'shoppers' going in and out of the main entrance do not have shopping bags. They have wheelchairs or walkers, worried looks on their faces, sometimes tears. Some just look like you and me going about their daily business. Off to their jobs or to appointments. But this place makes a difference in lives. Sometimes a big difference.
I first went there in 2002 to see an eye specialist. My hubby says he sees the world differently because I am always pointing out to him stuff to look at. My world is very visual. I love colors and shapes. I was an art major in college and have been doing stuff that required my eyes all my life. From pen and ink drawings, to painting, crocheting, knitting, welding, or reading, my world is what I see and I have a disease in both my eyes that changes my world. It is called Macular Degeneration. My right eye is a bit worse than my left. It starts as seeing a distortion in the middle of your vision. Over time it can cause you to lose that portion of your vision. The good news is you still have peripheral vision and with the help of modern technology can still do the majority of things that you could do before but not all.
I have lived with this for quite awhile. Fortunately my vision has not deteriorated. But it is different. If I close my left eye and just look with my right, peoples faces look odd. Heads elongate and features distort. There are also some very small spots where there is nothing at all. My left eye is not quite as bad. There are a couple of spots but between both eyes I still can see pretty well.
You may wonder what this has to do with my dirt road. It is the fact I try not to take for granted every season that occurs here. Every storm, no matter how sick I am of rain or snow I try to see the beauty that is there. I really look to see what I can see.
So when I look at Dartmouth-Hitchcock I try to see the possibilities. That maybe this place will if not find a cure, be able to help stop this disease. Not just for me but for others who have it. I see the fact I have lived with this for over 10 years and am able to do most of what I love. I try not to miss what is harder for me to do. I can't read like I use to. My eyes tire out after a while. And although audio books are great its not the same as holding a book and turning the pages. I can no longer depend on seeing straight lines when I do things. One of my small gifts was being able to write a straight line or draw a straight line. But my world now has no really straight lines. Everything has a slight dip to it. Maybe that is one reason why I love this road. It has lots of dips, there are no straight lines to it. But it is all good. Really, I mean it. Gardening doesn't require straight lines just a stubborn persistence, a shovel and some know how. There are rulers and tape measures to make sure I cut a straight line with an exacto knife or a saw.
So it is all how you look at it. You can see the end of the road and just focus on that or you can take your time and look at the road, the sides of the road, the trees, the sky. Keep looking around you. Don't take for granted it will all be there tomorrow, it may not be.
I first went there in 2002 to see an eye specialist. My hubby says he sees the world differently because I am always pointing out to him stuff to look at. My world is very visual. I love colors and shapes. I was an art major in college and have been doing stuff that required my eyes all my life. From pen and ink drawings, to painting, crocheting, knitting, welding, or reading, my world is what I see and I have a disease in both my eyes that changes my world. It is called Macular Degeneration. My right eye is a bit worse than my left. It starts as seeing a distortion in the middle of your vision. Over time it can cause you to lose that portion of your vision. The good news is you still have peripheral vision and with the help of modern technology can still do the majority of things that you could do before but not all.
I have lived with this for quite awhile. Fortunately my vision has not deteriorated. But it is different. If I close my left eye and just look with my right, peoples faces look odd. Heads elongate and features distort. There are also some very small spots where there is nothing at all. My left eye is not quite as bad. There are a couple of spots but between both eyes I still can see pretty well.
You may wonder what this has to do with my dirt road. It is the fact I try not to take for granted every season that occurs here. Every storm, no matter how sick I am of rain or snow I try to see the beauty that is there. I really look to see what I can see.
So when I look at Dartmouth-Hitchcock I try to see the possibilities. That maybe this place will if not find a cure, be able to help stop this disease. Not just for me but for others who have it. I see the fact I have lived with this for over 10 years and am able to do most of what I love. I try not to miss what is harder for me to do. I can't read like I use to. My eyes tire out after a while. And although audio books are great its not the same as holding a book and turning the pages. I can no longer depend on seeing straight lines when I do things. One of my small gifts was being able to write a straight line or draw a straight line. But my world now has no really straight lines. Everything has a slight dip to it. Maybe that is one reason why I love this road. It has lots of dips, there are no straight lines to it. But it is all good. Really, I mean it. Gardening doesn't require straight lines just a stubborn persistence, a shovel and some know how. There are rulers and tape measures to make sure I cut a straight line with an exacto knife or a saw.
So it is all how you look at it. You can see the end of the road and just focus on that or you can take your time and look at the road, the sides of the road, the trees, the sky. Keep looking around you. Don't take for granted it will all be there tomorrow, it may not be.
08 March 2011
The calm after the storm
Saturday wasn't the best of weather days up here on our dirt road. Just sort of gray and overcast. The calm before the storm. But we had a full afternoon and evening planned. Time to get off the road and do some visiting. Our youngest son and his wife live down in Greenfield, MA and that was the first stop.
I and my husband both grew up in Western MA. He in Agawam and me in So. Hadley so we are 'newcomers' to VT. Both our sons were born and raised on this dirt road but fate and love had been instrumental in taking one or the other on different roads.
Well we had a short visit with the youngest. I had a gift card to Barnes and Nobles that had been burning a hole in my pocket since Christmas. And the closest one is in Hadley, MA. Found a book
'50 Hikes in Vermont' put out by the Green Mountain Club. Since I started walking a year ago I have wanted to go further afield. And this book contains some walks I think I am capable of doing. So many thanks to my son and his wife for the thoughtful gift.
I love books and hope that they will always be out there in physical form to enjoy. You may have your electronic devices and there is nothing wrong with that. But personally I am old school on some things. Like holding a book, feeling the weight of it and opening it for the first time, smelling the ink and paper as I focus on the first words in the first sentence, in the first paragraph. It is magical.
Anyway, after some time with the son and his wife we headed to So. Hadley. For almost a year now we have met on just about a monthly basis with some friends from my past life as a teenager. There are JoAnn, Nancy and Roy. All high school buddies. And there are also Mike and Lorraine. Mike went to our high school and Lorraine didn't. It will be 40 years this June since I graduate from So. Hadley High School. Hard to imagine that much time has gone by. Some of the memories are as fresh as the recent snow and ice and rest have melted away.
We had dinner at a place called the 'Yardehouse' by the green up in what I considered the 'center' of So. Hadley since Mt. Holyoke College, the post office, some small stores and of course, 'the green' are there. This is not the area of my youth but an area from my youth. Over 30 years ago a fire swept through the small buildings and cubby hole shops across from the campus destroying that part of my past. The buildings and stores now there are unfamiliar. The restaurant has gone through many transformations since I left So. Hadley in the early '70's. It was a store, deli, bakery when growing up. Going to the post office meant running next door to get a cookie at the Chanticleer. That was its name 40 years ago and more. It is all different and all the same. As we sat around the table speaking of our varied childhoods, the parents some now long gone, siblings, friends, escapades. I have discovered it is nice to have a shared time and background with someone. Since my own parents dies there has been no one to remember me as a child or my childhood. I have reconnected with 3 people who knew me in those various stages growing up. From elementary school to high school. We shared time, friends and places.
From paved road in suburbia to a dirt road in VT it has been a wonderful ride which I hope goes on for quite a bit longer. I have that book and some walking to do. And today the sun is shining, the ice and snow will continue to melt. Its the calm after the storm sort of like where my life is now. The calm after growing up, being a parent, a time now to be a wife, friend and to go where ever my hiking boots take me as long as they bring me back to this dirt road.
I and my husband both grew up in Western MA. He in Agawam and me in So. Hadley so we are 'newcomers' to VT. Both our sons were born and raised on this dirt road but fate and love had been instrumental in taking one or the other on different roads.
Well we had a short visit with the youngest. I had a gift card to Barnes and Nobles that had been burning a hole in my pocket since Christmas. And the closest one is in Hadley, MA. Found a book
'50 Hikes in Vermont' put out by the Green Mountain Club. Since I started walking a year ago I have wanted to go further afield. And this book contains some walks I think I am capable of doing. So many thanks to my son and his wife for the thoughtful gift.
I love books and hope that they will always be out there in physical form to enjoy. You may have your electronic devices and there is nothing wrong with that. But personally I am old school on some things. Like holding a book, feeling the weight of it and opening it for the first time, smelling the ink and paper as I focus on the first words in the first sentence, in the first paragraph. It is magical.
Anyway, after some time with the son and his wife we headed to So. Hadley. For almost a year now we have met on just about a monthly basis with some friends from my past life as a teenager. There are JoAnn, Nancy and Roy. All high school buddies. And there are also Mike and Lorraine. Mike went to our high school and Lorraine didn't. It will be 40 years this June since I graduate from So. Hadley High School. Hard to imagine that much time has gone by. Some of the memories are as fresh as the recent snow and ice and rest have melted away.
We had dinner at a place called the 'Yardehouse' by the green up in what I considered the 'center' of So. Hadley since Mt. Holyoke College, the post office, some small stores and of course, 'the green' are there. This is not the area of my youth but an area from my youth. Over 30 years ago a fire swept through the small buildings and cubby hole shops across from the campus destroying that part of my past. The buildings and stores now there are unfamiliar. The restaurant has gone through many transformations since I left So. Hadley in the early '70's. It was a store, deli, bakery when growing up. Going to the post office meant running next door to get a cookie at the Chanticleer. That was its name 40 years ago and more. It is all different and all the same. As we sat around the table speaking of our varied childhoods, the parents some now long gone, siblings, friends, escapades. I have discovered it is nice to have a shared time and background with someone. Since my own parents dies there has been no one to remember me as a child or my childhood. I have reconnected with 3 people who knew me in those various stages growing up. From elementary school to high school. We shared time, friends and places.
From paved road in suburbia to a dirt road in VT it has been a wonderful ride which I hope goes on for quite a bit longer. I have that book and some walking to do. And today the sun is shining, the ice and snow will continue to melt. Its the calm after the storm sort of like where my life is now. The calm after growing up, being a parent, a time now to be a wife, friend and to go where ever my hiking boots take me as long as they bring me back to this dirt road.
06 March 2011
Meltdown time!
Remember the saying 'be careful what you wish for'? Well up here on this dirt road and the others in town we have been wishing for a thaw. For spring in some way to poke its head out and let us know it was coming. And this past weekend Mom Nature and her little group of hooligans have let us know that spring is coming.
It started simply enough with a rise in temperature. Good for sugaring, good to start the meltdown. That was Saturday, Sunday was another story. The temperature stayed up over night but the rain began. And by morning it was coming down pretty steadily. You could literally stand there and watch the snow banks melt. Then it rain harder. Bad for the sugaring and bad for the meltdown. There is still ice on the driveway with pools of water scattered about. The pathways from here to there look more like canals and I fear shortly I will see the mad red squirrel with friends out there in their little barges transporting seed from the birdfeeders the local squirrel seed storage facility.
On the good side I saw Cathartes aura or turkey buzzards on Saturday. I don't look for robins or even red winged black birds as much as I stare at the sky to see if that bird floating on thermals is a buzzard. At first they are a little hard to recognize. Now if you have ever seen one up close you realize these are an ugly bird. There is just no two ways about it. They have no feathers on their heads or necks which keeps them sort of free of germs and all the lovely things you can pick up when you dine on carrion. And they do have scrawny necks. But when they fly they become transformed. They will start the year out by coasting over the paved roads. That is where the thermals are, those warm air columns that rise up from the sun heated pavement. Invisible columns of warm air that take an ugly bird and transform it into an amazing aerialist. Banking and turning, dark forms almost effortlessly floating in the blue sky. To me they represent spring.
One place I worked in Bellows Falls, VT had a back door that looked down to the Connecticut River and over to Fall Mountain in New Hampshire. Every year I would keep my eye to Fall Mountain because it is a lovely pile of rocks and Route 12 runs right by it. A great place for thermals to be created. Its is there that I first found my appreciation of turkey buzzards and their amazing abilities to soar. And since that time I have always thought of that bird as the true harbinger of spring.
So as I sit here tonight listening to the rain I think about those big, ugly birds floating about in the spring sky and I have hope the rain will stop and the sun will return and with it those columns of warm air and those loveliest of aerialist, the turkey buzzards.
It started simply enough with a rise in temperature. Good for sugaring, good to start the meltdown. That was Saturday, Sunday was another story. The temperature stayed up over night but the rain began. And by morning it was coming down pretty steadily. You could literally stand there and watch the snow banks melt. Then it rain harder. Bad for the sugaring and bad for the meltdown. There is still ice on the driveway with pools of water scattered about. The pathways from here to there look more like canals and I fear shortly I will see the mad red squirrel with friends out there in their little barges transporting seed from the birdfeeders the local squirrel seed storage facility.
On the good side I saw Cathartes aura or turkey buzzards on Saturday. I don't look for robins or even red winged black birds as much as I stare at the sky to see if that bird floating on thermals is a buzzard. At first they are a little hard to recognize. Now if you have ever seen one up close you realize these are an ugly bird. There is just no two ways about it. They have no feathers on their heads or necks which keeps them sort of free of germs and all the lovely things you can pick up when you dine on carrion. And they do have scrawny necks. But when they fly they become transformed. They will start the year out by coasting over the paved roads. That is where the thermals are, those warm air columns that rise up from the sun heated pavement. Invisible columns of warm air that take an ugly bird and transform it into an amazing aerialist. Banking and turning, dark forms almost effortlessly floating in the blue sky. To me they represent spring.
One place I worked in Bellows Falls, VT had a back door that looked down to the Connecticut River and over to Fall Mountain in New Hampshire. Every year I would keep my eye to Fall Mountain because it is a lovely pile of rocks and Route 12 runs right by it. A great place for thermals to be created. Its is there that I first found my appreciation of turkey buzzards and their amazing abilities to soar. And since that time I have always thought of that bird as the true harbinger of spring.
So as I sit here tonight listening to the rain I think about those big, ugly birds floating about in the spring sky and I have hope the rain will stop and the sun will return and with it those columns of warm air and those loveliest of aerialist, the turkey buzzards.
04 March 2011
So the world cometh.
Even a dirt road time doesn't pass you but. Sometimes it hits you full force. My oldest son Eli has put his name into the Bone Marrow Registry.He received a call that he might be a match to someone, so next week he goes for bloodwork. That is so amazing to think he might save a life because of the life we gave him. Karma.
Then there is the story of the goose. A Canadian goose. I don't know if it has a name like lefty or no wing or even just Bob. Seems this goose hatched out right up here at the beaver pond. For several years now some geese have come to raise a family in our neck of the woods. I mostly see them as they fly over our house to Mike's field. You can set your watch by them in the morning and afternoon. I love listening to the honking as they seem to be thinking of the possibilities of the day while flying to Mikes and then in the evening they seem to be talking about how the day went. And maybe they should do it again tomorrow.
Well it seems one goose was born with a bad wing. He can't fly. Neither I or the neighbors across from the pond noticed the goose till this past year. Also this past year the beavers built a new lodge which you can see from there house across the road and of course from the road. That is when they, Mary and Frank noticed this 'deformed' goose. He and some friends would climb onto the beaver house to sun or have a little afternoon nap. Having been around hunting season they thought it must have been shot. And they worried what end would come this goose. Frank sought help through various agencies and most just didn't want to help or were unable to help. Finally the constable from our town, a burly mass of a man who served in Vietnam and lost a few fingers fishing with dynamite came up with some other fella from agency to put the goose out of its misery. This was about the time the pond froze and they couldn't find feather or web track of said bird. Somehow it had disappeared.
That is because this goose has a winter home. No it can't fly and join the others of it species but it can still walk. And walk it does to Mike's house. Now this is the amazing part, this goose, a wild animal, allows Mike to pick it up and put in in the old rabbit barn. It is safe and warm. Has itself a nest and someone to feed it. So it lives there as if it belongs. When the water is finally flowing and his family has returned for another year he leaves his winter abode and goes back to the beaver pond. This is his second winter living on our dirt road. I don't know how long this will last, the meeting of domestic and wild but I think it is totally awesome. It explains that goose I saw on occasion strolling down the street.
It just proves that Mike's rough exterior hides a soft heart. The windburned skin, callused hands, sometime bad tempered, Mike. Next time we have an argument during a selectboard meeting I am going to think 'goose'. And maybe the smile I show Mike will confuse him. And maybe it will keep me from yelling back.
It's is odd the people that have lived on the same dirt road as us for so many years look like the neighbors we thought we had but they act entirely different. Nope, I think it takes time but this road changes you and time changes you. And I am glad to say at this point we are all getting better.
And when the pond thaws out and that goose returns I will be there with my camera recording on of natures everyday miracles.
Then there is the story of the goose. A Canadian goose. I don't know if it has a name like lefty or no wing or even just Bob. Seems this goose hatched out right up here at the beaver pond. For several years now some geese have come to raise a family in our neck of the woods. I mostly see them as they fly over our house to Mike's field. You can set your watch by them in the morning and afternoon. I love listening to the honking as they seem to be thinking of the possibilities of the day while flying to Mikes and then in the evening they seem to be talking about how the day went. And maybe they should do it again tomorrow.
Well it seems one goose was born with a bad wing. He can't fly. Neither I or the neighbors across from the pond noticed the goose till this past year. Also this past year the beavers built a new lodge which you can see from there house across the road and of course from the road. That is when they, Mary and Frank noticed this 'deformed' goose. He and some friends would climb onto the beaver house to sun or have a little afternoon nap. Having been around hunting season they thought it must have been shot. And they worried what end would come this goose. Frank sought help through various agencies and most just didn't want to help or were unable to help. Finally the constable from our town, a burly mass of a man who served in Vietnam and lost a few fingers fishing with dynamite came up with some other fella from agency to put the goose out of its misery. This was about the time the pond froze and they couldn't find feather or web track of said bird. Somehow it had disappeared.
That is because this goose has a winter home. No it can't fly and join the others of it species but it can still walk. And walk it does to Mike's house. Now this is the amazing part, this goose, a wild animal, allows Mike to pick it up and put in in the old rabbit barn. It is safe and warm. Has itself a nest and someone to feed it. So it lives there as if it belongs. When the water is finally flowing and his family has returned for another year he leaves his winter abode and goes back to the beaver pond. This is his second winter living on our dirt road. I don't know how long this will last, the meeting of domestic and wild but I think it is totally awesome. It explains that goose I saw on occasion strolling down the street.
It just proves that Mike's rough exterior hides a soft heart. The windburned skin, callused hands, sometime bad tempered, Mike. Next time we have an argument during a selectboard meeting I am going to think 'goose'. And maybe the smile I show Mike will confuse him. And maybe it will keep me from yelling back.
It's is odd the people that have lived on the same dirt road as us for so many years look like the neighbors we thought we had but they act entirely different. Nope, I think it takes time but this road changes you and time changes you. And I am glad to say at this point we are all getting better.
And when the pond thaws out and that goose returns I will be there with my camera recording on of natures everyday miracles.
02 March 2011
Town meeting day.
One the first Tuesday in March of every year (and many years before that) since I moved onto this dirt road in our small town we have held our town meeting. This is a time of year when some of us residents come out of hibernation and once again elect officials to such offices as lister or fence viewer and determine our budget needs. And we also enjoy visiting, arguing with our neighbors and friends plus there might be a table full of treats for some worth while group in need of donations.
Its not always friendly and sociable. Feelings get hurt, tempers flare and sometimes an elected official who has been in office since the creation of dirt gets voted out.
This year we had an old fashion town meeting. I mean we did not even break for lunch. The first few articles were the usual thing. Not much excitement there. But then came the articles concerning how to collect taxes, delinquent taxes, the good stuff. This is when people started to say something. For too many years we had a moderator than moved our town meeting along at a good pace. For those of you unfamiliar with the idea of a town meeting and a moderator. Well the town meeting part is easy. Anybody can attend. Only those registered to voted in your particular town can vote. And people not residents and not voters are only allowed to speak with permission from the voters. The moderator is the person who follows set guidelines (called Robert's Rules) and keeps the meeting from turning into total mayhem. The problem with that is too many times articles were voted on without discussion. Before you knew it, you had said yea or nay and moved on to the next article. This year the old moderator didn't show and we elected a new one. Which was good because she didn't expect it and was rusty on Robert's Rules so the meeting pace slowed down a bit. Yes there were other factors that helped with the slower pace but having a different moderator made a world of difference.
It was a long meeting for our town. Four hours with no lunch break. But at the end of it things had changed. Something that I and my husband had hoped for started. New blood came in and some old went out. A problem with a little town in once you are elected to a position death seems to be the only way not to be re-elected. But this year that changed. Not completely. We still filled a couple of positions (that are mostly honorary and involve no money) with people who weren't there and have held these positions as long as I have lived in town. Change comes slowly but it is coming. And I for one am happy about that. Now if I can find someone to fill my position next time I come up for re-election. Hopefully this is my last 3 year term and I don't want to have to die in order to be replaced.
So hold onto your hats boys and girls. The road ain't gonna be paved but it just might shift direction.
Its not always friendly and sociable. Feelings get hurt, tempers flare and sometimes an elected official who has been in office since the creation of dirt gets voted out.
This year we had an old fashion town meeting. I mean we did not even break for lunch. The first few articles were the usual thing. Not much excitement there. But then came the articles concerning how to collect taxes, delinquent taxes, the good stuff. This is when people started to say something. For too many years we had a moderator than moved our town meeting along at a good pace. For those of you unfamiliar with the idea of a town meeting and a moderator. Well the town meeting part is easy. Anybody can attend. Only those registered to voted in your particular town can vote. And people not residents and not voters are only allowed to speak with permission from the voters. The moderator is the person who follows set guidelines (called Robert's Rules) and keeps the meeting from turning into total mayhem. The problem with that is too many times articles were voted on without discussion. Before you knew it, you had said yea or nay and moved on to the next article. This year the old moderator didn't show and we elected a new one. Which was good because she didn't expect it and was rusty on Robert's Rules so the meeting pace slowed down a bit. Yes there were other factors that helped with the slower pace but having a different moderator made a world of difference.
It was a long meeting for our town. Four hours with no lunch break. But at the end of it things had changed. Something that I and my husband had hoped for started. New blood came in and some old went out. A problem with a little town in once you are elected to a position death seems to be the only way not to be re-elected. But this year that changed. Not completely. We still filled a couple of positions (that are mostly honorary and involve no money) with people who weren't there and have held these positions as long as I have lived in town. Change comes slowly but it is coming. And I for one am happy about that. Now if I can find someone to fill my position next time I come up for re-election. Hopefully this is my last 3 year term and I don't want to have to die in order to be replaced.
So hold onto your hats boys and girls. The road ain't gonna be paved but it just might shift direction.
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