things you think are boring but they are not

the weather. mostly just the weather.

we brush it off as an inane conversation filler. but really, i think it is more like a religious devotion. and much like religion, it is an effort to decode life, the unpredictability and vagaries, the surprises and complications.

i think that is why we marvel and refuse to accept.
"can you believe it is so warm? for november?"
"it's not going to rain for the next four days. no way. i refuse to believe it."
"it can;t be winter - summer just got here!"

i know there are people in the camp that loves all weather, and is excited about all of it. i might argue that this is just a form of blind worship of an unpredictable god. might as well sit back and enjoy the ride, 'cause there is nothing else you can do.

and of course, there are those that don;t want to hear about the weather, because there is nothing you can do about it. just leave it be. talking about the inevitable and uncontrollable is boring. atheism? agnostic?

me, i am firmly in the talk-about-it-extensively and examine-it-all-the-time person. i should go to seminary school for weather nerds.

(by the way - isn't the weather crazy right now?)

winter

it is here. finally.

Winter.

and admittedly i have been dreading the coming of vermont's main season. everything here revolves around winter. we have winter, and not winter, and mud season. and mud season is really just an off shoot of winter, since it is the product of the still partly frozen ground starting to thaw, and not being able to absorb the run off from all the snow.

but i digress.

it is snowing, and now just a little. there are tiny flakes piling up on the ground making snow banks. there are normal everyday items whose edges are blurred, color is covered, and that are becoming only identifiable as fluffy rounded soft things. and it is beautiful in it's softness and strangeness.

but i haven't had to start moving it yet. i don't like it much when i have to move it.

I forgot about the bugs

Living in the middle of no where means there are less people.

But, that does not mean there are less living entities. Rather, it means there are more bugs. I have been home less than 24 hours and have found: two ticks on the cat, an caterpillar in the bouquet of flowers that I left on the table, a centipede in the sink, and mosquitos in the house.

I can handle most bugs pretty easily, but the ticks and the mosquitos piss me off - and gross me out - because it has actually been far too cold for both to even exist, but there they are. Stupid wankers.

NOLA

I got sent to New Orleans on a business trip. It rained/stormed in the afternoon, and then cleared up. It was beautiful: I only really saw the warehouse district and the french quarter. So, to answer all the questions, no real apparent damage from the hurricanes in those areas. I mean, there were some building with windows still boarded up, and strips of closed shops, but nothing more that is typical in any big city.






I'm not used to big southern cities: big cities are usually places where I walk with purpose, don't make eye contact, put up walls. But, this is the south. It doesn't matter where you are or what time it is: you smile, you make eye contact, and you say 'hello.' Ah, the south.





Being in the south was nice: the heat, the light, all the things that are summer. New England summer is like a weak-ass version of summer. In some ways, it is lovely - I hate the heat, really, and it is nice not to drip sweat all day every day. But you miss the heat. The light, the way the late day sun slants. And northerners have a fear of showing skin, born of the constant coolness, i think? There was an abundance of skin. It looked like it was summer. People looked summery.

Exactly.

Local strawberries, picked up at a Walker's on the way home. Still warm, 'cause they were picked that day. Ah, spring. You sure do taste good.

Cows!

Cow butts! I love the Strolling of the Heifers parade. What's not to love? We quadruple out population. There are cows on Main Street. Free dairy products (cheese, ice cream).


Oh, and a petting zoo. The picture is blurry, but you get the idea: teeny spotted baby pigs. It is a miracle I didn't bring one home with me.

Poppy

We went to Kentucky for Memorial Day, which was lovely. So many things were flowering that was just starting to bud in Vermont. It was like a preview of the spring that hadn't gotten to us northerners. I was also a little sad, because I thought that we would miss the explosion of spring in our garden. Luckily, we got back to find the very very beginning.

I do love poppies: they are such fascinating and fragile flowers. The color is fantastic. They are architecturally interesting. If only they lasted longer. I wouldn't mind having poppies all summer long. Our are doing better this year, though. After the first year when I ripped a number of them out of the ground thinking they were weeds...

Summer, is that you...?

I can feel it: the sun is actually warm! Okay, there is still over a foot of snow...It is not just light any more, the sun is actually creating Heat. It is glorious.

Remind me of this when I am complaining about the heat in August.

Bad Sign

I've been noticing references to 'spring' - on people's blogs, emails, conversations. Even the news, or at least more southern climate's news, is also mentioning it.

Spring. Granted, things ARE melting. The temperature IS above freezing for at least part of every day.

But:
Brattleboro is having a Winter Carnival.
Yes folks, that's right. WINTER carnival.
Winter. It is still winter. And we will continue to see ice heaves on our roof and sickles from out gutter.

The Frigid North

This is how winter makes me feel....

I am posting in honor of the fact that it has been above freezing for three days...in a Row! And. AND! Tomorrow it will be firmly in the 40 degree range. Remarkable. It has been in the low twenties and teens all the time for months now. I was almost accustomed to it being so cold.

(That is a lie: I complain bitterly. Chris then always, with out fail, quips, "Hey - you Wanted to move North!")

Anyway: here is what it has looked like:
Okay. So it is kinda pretty. But, damn it has been cold! Spring is almost here, right? Oh wait, not for several....months....

Totally Punk Rock

These little guys are back! These are seriously the coolest woolly worms ever, with their punk rock hairstyles. They wriggle along like they are groovin to some majorly heavy tunes. I glimpsed their bright green pals once, too. And, of course, was camera-less.

I always try to think 'take the camera' but when get home from work, the dogs are barking, and it is walkin' time, the camera is the last thing I'm thinking off. It is usually more like "Did I remember to send that email before I left work?" or "What am I going to make for dinner?" or "Lalalalalalalalalalalalala.........What did you say, Chris?"

Perfect Sunday, in flames.

Last Sunday - and let's note the date - August 10, 2008, was perfect. One of those New England summer days that convinced me that there was a utopia, and it was in Vermont. 72 degrees, sunny, breezy, bright blue sky with a handful of obscenely fluffy white clouds that were all far to perfectly shaped. Really, they had no right to be that attractive. Oh, but I forgot, in utopia the clouds can be as pretty as they want.

Any way, we got up early, did laundry, and hung it all out to dry. Partly because it was a fantastically sunny day, partly because there were no available dryers at the laundry mat. Part of the side effect of living in a small town is a small laundry mat. However, rarely are there that many people there. But, also, it only takes about three people doing laundry to occupy all the machines, so I suppose it is all relative. No matter! That is why we live where we do, so we can come home and string up a couple of extra lines, and hang the wash out to dry. I would like to note that all of our 'vintage' / thrift store clothing was dry very quickly, but any thing we have bought in the last ten years at a 'real' store took forever. We have evolved (apparel wise) into the land of necessary dryers. I am still waiting for my jeans to dry.

After all that hard labor *whew!* we made lovely lunches from our vegetable garden; summer tomatoes, squash (what is a meal without squash?!?!) , and added some tasty cheeses, and Bread. In a gluten free house, Bread always gets a capitalization. Bread is special. Bread is a treat. Bread is something you savor and get very, very excited about.

And, since sunny weather is hard to come by lately, we took the oppourtunity to mow the lawn, tag team style. It takes one person about 3 hours to mow the lawn. BUT - out lovely land vixen owns two push mowers, so me can break them both out and get it done lickety-split. Which was good, because then the clouds started rolling in...

Not to fear! We got the mowing done in record time, and managed to break a sweat - all those hills are a great workout. Now time for a little break; we grabbed cold beers, and sat on the porch and watched the storm clouds. They were across the valley, and you could see the edges of the storm, the lightning ricocheting off the clouds, and sometimes sending angry fingers to trees below. We debated gathering the laundry, but the storm glided on around us.

After some garage stuff (Chris) and some house stuff (me) it was getting to be about evening and dinner time, so I set to cooking. More squash, polenta, collards, and some toasted sunflower seeds to start....but that is about as far as I got.

Moments after I put the sunflower seeds in the oven (it felt like moment, maybe it was longer) I smell something funny and OH MY GOD THERE ARE FLAMES IN THE OVEN! I (amazingly) think that "I need to turn off the gas" and even more remarkably actually did so.

And then I open the oven.

BAD idea, as flames leap OUT of the oven. Slam door shut, and, god only knows why, open the oven AGAIN. I think I thought I would find something other than black smoke and flames, but no.

Then, most embarrassingly of all, I run for my husband. I can think of nothing else to do other than GET CHRIS. SO into the yard, screaming my head off. Chris recalls me screaming something along the lines of "ChrisFireHelpNow!" He had no trouble hearing that.

And at this point it starts raining. With all the clothes still on the line.

Into the house bursts Chris, and grabs the (why didn't I think of it?) fire extinguisher.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFffffffffffffffffffffffffffffTTttttttttttttttttttttttt.
Fire is out. Black smoke is everywhere, and the inside of our oven is caked in soot and fire extinguisher stuff. And there is a fine layer of fire extinguisher dust over out entire house.

Then we both tear into the yard, throwing laundry into baskets as quickly as possible, and back into the house.

Then I start to cry, because I realize not only have I ruined dinner, but now we have to clean all this up. And start cooking again, because we can't go out to eat, because Chris can't eat anything. But, we do it. We clean up, and make some salads, and I vow never to use to oven again without proper supervision.

But; I did not destroy the oven. After some spraying of oven cleaner, it is as good as new - literally. That stuff is a little scary, actually. I'm not sure what it did to make it so easy to clean that oven, but man oh man, that oven is Spotless.

And I did not cause the house to explode. It only occurred to me a few days later that 1) we have a gas stove. 2) Our gas stove was full - really, full - of fire. 3) Our oven did not explode.
I'm sure that somewhere there is a design element that the clever stove manufacturers included, and I did have the presence of mind to turn off the gas, but still....

Squash.

I have a lot of squash. Really, it is coming out of our ears, because after you eat it every day for weeks and weeks and you start to turn a little yellow, and it starts ooozing out of your ears. Chris has been having a hard time hearing me lately,

me: Honey - where is the squash?

Chris: The what?

me: The squash?

Chris: ........

me: Chris - did you hear me?

Chris: ......

me: Chris? Hey - where is the SQUASH? CHRIS!

Chris: .....

me: CHRIS! WHERE THE @#$% ARE YOU?!?!?

Chris: Sorry, wifey - did you say something?

And it is because his ears are clogged with squash.

Upon Request

Upon request, here are pictures of the house. There is Christopher and Bella, and the tiny maple tree that Christopher is growing.

And this is the rock wall / drainage ditch that I spend an entire Sunday rebuilding. I am trying to decide if I should keep weeding it, or let it get all over grown....


That bottom rock wall, constructed by Joshua, and home to my 'experimental' plants. Surprisingly, the teeny succulents are doing well, and some of the other creepers are not. At All. But - miraculously - the lavender is going like gangbusters.

'Cause one view isn't enough.

So. That's the garden. We has poppies and irises for about a week. And there are some new purple flowers after all the rain. Maybe more pictures are needed. Hmm...I also didn't add any of the vegetable garden, which was beautiful. Until the deer. They even ate the artichokes. It is terribly depressing.

Bad Blogger!

Geez. This bloggin thing is harder than I though it would be. I keep saying "Oh! That would be great to post!" But do I do it? No. Instead I wander down to the garden and putter, or take a nap, or play with the dogs, or try to find a new gluten free way to make banana bread, or mindlessly stare at the horizon.

Or. OR! Spend way too much time slapping at these incarnations of pure evil.

Absolutely, pure, unadulterated evil. Spawns of satan. Scum of the earth. I HATE Mosquitoes. I am covered in bites, way earlier than usual this year. If I am standing in a group of people, no one else gets bitten, because they are visually swarming all over me. They leave scars. I have resorted to covering myself with some deet-based bug repellent if I want to leave the house after 4pm in the afternoon, which I am sure will cause cancer in my old age, but I don't care! Okay, I do care, but I really like being outside....

Have your turned your trashheap?

In our last house, my dear, dear husband turned our compost head into a huge stick pile. Probably for the best, since after we got our mutts, it would have been more of a snack counter. In our new house, out in the country with no trash pick up, we compost almost every bit of compostable scrap. However, I have still had to teach him the finer arts of composting. Like, no, old moldy cheese is probably not a great addition. Or the bits and pieces in the drain catch....
(update: we realized that we have a composting toilet - so the drain catch bits are gettin' flushed - it's a pretty genius system, for those of you who live on 10 or more acres of land....)

(picture courtesy of ApartmentTherapy.com)

To his credit, he is the one that turned the compost pile last year. But - this pic is for you, pookie.
And, although we have quite the hearty stick-free compost pile, it is still the neighborhood doggie snack shack. Benji, a great big red dog with a white tipped tail, likes to make the neighborhood rounds when he goes on walks, gettin' all the good stuff early in the morning. And our dogs have two distinct tactics: Bella lithely wiggles her pointy noose in between the bars, while Sebastian likes to just rip off the bars in his way....I need to put up a pick of our compost box...

Signs a'Springin'

I haven't had a chance to take any pictures of all the work I did in the garden this weekend. The moment I do, I will have pictures. Pretty much, I moved mountains. Or pieces of ones. Boulders. Well, rocks. but enough to constitute a mountain. And it should drain better. Luna (the kitty) likes her little rocky perch - great for teeny tiny game hunting (or so Susan, our landvixen, says).

However - one of my favorite places is open - Walker Farm's stand. I get to drive past it every single day on Route 5 during my commute. It is fabulous. All winter, as I watched it being buried under snow storm after snow storm, until you couldn't even see the sign again, I kept wondering if it would even be there come spring time. But - it is - in all its flowering glory. They sell everything you could possibly ever want to plant. And the whole place is just gorgeous. And last year we got these heirloom tomatoes that were hands down some of the most amazing tomatoes I have eaten. Ever.

Ah, spring. It is very nice to have you back.