Later this morning Sophie and I are going to drive to the trailhead and hike to Kibby Pond. According to the U.S. Geological Survey map I've been consulting, it should be somewhat of an uphill climb, but not drastically so. We'll do this as long as the snowmobile tracks make it that far. The snow is so icy now that each step takes a huge effort as each foot breaks the crust and then sinks way down. Walking on ice where snowmobiles have packed down the snow is a cinch, especially with my new Yaktrax walkers--there's no need for snowshoes. If you find the ice treacherous in your neighborhood, by all means, don't hesitate to get yourself a pair. They're so easy to slip on shoes or boots and make ice walking a breeze. I wish I had known about them years ago.

Yesterday the spunky dog and I hiked for more than two and a half hours. We tried to hike to the Fish Ponds, but since we walked to the trailhead instead of driving, it was just too far to make it the whole way. The trail walking was terrific, though, and I can't wait to explore this whole area further. When we first set out, the sun was breaking through both the smoky gray altocumulus clouds and the white puffy cumulus clouds. The resulting color display was breathtaking. Eleventh Mountain turned the most intense purplish blue I have ever seen. I was so stunned that I was seeing this color in nature that I stopped and gaped with my mouth wide open.

When we made it home, both dog and dogmother were tired and extremely hungry. I heated about six ounces of milk and added the most delicious hot chocolate mix I have ever found. Most commercial preparations are too sugary and taste artificial to me. But Lake Champlain Chocolates Organic Hot Chocolate is just right, made only with cocoa and 10 grams of sugar per tablespoon. The dog had a little dog food and a tablespoon of canned pumpkin, leftover from the pumpkin muffins I baked. (Every retriever I've ever had has been crazy about pumpkin.)

I wish it would snow. I want to go skiing in the worst way. I've heard the surface at Gore Mountain is very hard right now. Since I'm expecting to fall a bit as I get used to downhill skiing again, I'm dying for lots of powdah. Gore's homegrown snow in warm weather just can't compete with the real thing.

The warmth of the past week to ten days is easy on the fuel bill, but I wish temps would normalize to at least level out to below freezing.

The day after the Glens Falls trip, when I was so down from the hassles of shopping there, Sophie and I went on a long trek to the Barton Trailhead. From the maps I've consulted, Barton is a smallish mountain or a big hill, depending on one's point of view. We did not climb, because I would have had to leash her, and that did not seem safe, given some of the ice mixed with the snowpack. The leashing is necessary because this is the trapping season and trapping is allowed on state lands, damn it. I did ask whether they trap specifically on the trails and fortunately they do not. We found the trailhead that leads to Fish Pond, which is on level ground, and leashing Sophie here I can manage fine. The walk to these wild places is gorgeous, hilly, and long. The hike from the house to these sites and back took us two hours, and all of this we took at a very brisk pace. It would make sense to drive and park the car at the trailhead sites, but it's many more miles to get there by car. It would take us at least 15-20 minutes to drive there, all because the upper, middle part of Coulter Road is never plowed. I know this sounds strange, and it is difficult to explain, but a number of the roads here are like that. The middle, uninhabited parts are not plowed.

I'm so mad that I misplaced my new compass. I have searched and searched the place where I remember putting it, and I've scoured other logical spots. The hell of moving--things get misplaced so easily while everything is in such disarray.

Now that I have my PC up and running and am no longer reliable on the oldish laptop that is still running Windows 98, I'll be able to post photos soon.

A leisurely Christmas Day was just the salve I needed. Sophie and I took a long hike in the morning on these mountain roads. We saw one car the entire hour of brisk hiking. Usually I don't see even one. The bogs, fields, and mountains were beautiful; each day they appear different, depending on the time of day, amount of light, and type of cloud cover. Sophie was ecstatic, sniffing here and there along the road, and rolling in what I'm sure are lingering scents from disintegrated horse manure. Every retriever I have ever owned, both Labs and Goldens, have had a love affair with the horsey stuff. I can't understand it--it's just digested hay, but there it is.

It was fun to have a Christmas tucked away here all on our own, and it was a relief to just relax. Yesterday was equally relaxing. I'm almost finished organizing my office, and it is so cozy and inviting. Bright, yet soft light, a medium-dark true blue carpet, and two windows. Perfect.

Today was a nerve-wracking day for me. We made the trek to Glens Falls to shop. I already hate the congested roads that traverse the super-abundance of stores in its mall district. We stopped at Starbucks for coffee to fortify ourselves. Then we were off to Lowe's to buy a big freezer and a new fridge. After a couple of other errands, I dropped Ken off at Home Depot and headed over to Price Chopper. I promised myself I would not be overwhelmed by the experience of food shopping there as I had been three weeks ago. No, I would take my list in hand and not let that monster supermarket conquer me.

Well, I survived, I got most of what I wanted to get, but I was so incredibly stressed. I just hate to shop, but I also have impossibly high standards for the food I'll put on our table. Add these ingredients to the necessity of navigating an unfamiliar megastore and I suppose the results are predictable. Maybe I can console myself that I'll get used to it in time. We did save money shopping there, but that brings up a whole other issue, which I will delve into soon but not today.

It was a sunny day, a beautiful day, and I was so unhappy I was in mall-land instead of at home in the mountains. There will be others, of course, but right now I find it hard to sacrifice a single one.

Scads of errands took me to North Creek yesterday. I spent the first 45 minutes at Gore Mountain, familiarizing myself with the services and locations in the base lodge so that I’ll be better prepared for my first day of work at the information desk. First of all, where’s the restroom?

I met the woman who does my job five days a week. I wish I could work alongside her for a day, so that I can learn the proper procedures. Maybe I’ll suggest that to the folks who hired me.

The rest of my business took me to the heart of the village. I’m gradually acclimating to the rhythm of Adirondack shopping. Lesson #1: There is no rush. No one, neither the customers nor the salespeople, are in a hurry. Service is delivered thoroughly, methodically, and with plenty of good-humored conversation. It doesn’t matter if the line of people waiting consists of just one person or many. I need to check my Boston-oriented, top-speed, multi-tasking mindset at home. That whole ingrained sense that I have to accomplish each task in the least amount of time, a way of being that has marked my entire adult life, just runs smack into stonewalls here.

I blame Boston traffic for my time-efficiency affliction. Here’s how it goes: It took me 25 minutes to drive from Canton to Newton Centre when I was 32, 45 minutes at age 42, and at 52, I wouldn’t dream of making the trip between the hours of 7-10:30 am and 2:30 to 7:30 pm, Monday-Friday (forget Saturday altogether), because it takes 75 minutes to two hours. So how do/did I cope, or to put it the way it has always felt, how do I make up for all the time wasted? (Note the tell-tale use of the word wasted). Why, spend less time in the stores, size up other shoppers’ baskets to find the speediest check-out, and shop quickly! Efficiently! Drive faster and in the passing lanes! And always, but always, run across the street to save other drivers the precious 45 seconds it takes to walk across.

So here I am, in a place where none of that makes any sense. I find I am developing respect and, yes, even patience for this fact of Adirondack life. I’m enjoying the pleasantries and information exchanged while I wait, and I’m trying hard not to mind the two and a half hours that five small errands take.

So by moving here I haven't gained any time, but I never came here looking for it. I’m loving the space and the freedoms. My favorite freedom right now is that I feel liberated from the urban and suburban pressure to look fashionable, hair perfectly coifed, perfectly well-groomed. Women here dress down, and I mean down. Cords, well-worn knits and sweats, self-cut and self-styled hair, heavy-duty shoes and boots. A lot of women wear men’s clothing. Have you ever noticed that men’s flannel shirts are at least twice as thick, twice as warm as women’s? I didn’t until this fall and winter.

One day two women in stylish, longish skirts and boots, sweaters, chic haircuts, and mascara--yup, genuine mascara were sitting in Café Sarah, eating sandwiches. I was surprised at my reaction, surprised that they looked so out of place to me when in Boston metro, they wouldn't get a second glance. The only women into makeup here are the vacationers and unmarried women under 25 years old. As one of my friends here puts it, “I just hate to shop for clothes. If L.L. Bean or Land’s End doesn’t sell it, I don’t wear it.” But just in case you think my wardrobe is all cords, jeans, and cotton turtlenecks, I make sure I have a couple of stylish outfits for my trips to the big cities. Does Albany count? Yeah, I guess. Actually, I can’t wait to go! Saratoga Springs, Albany, Schenectady, and how I wish I could afford a night in New York. Later, gator.

I have waxed on about this theme long enough.

Tomorrow morning I’ll be eager to blog some Christmas spirit.

Yesterday morning it was about five below at eight, but by ten it had warmed to about 20 degrees. Sophie and I spent about two hours out on our back 27, or is it 28? No one is really sure of our exact acreage, but that's the size range. With my new saw, I cut down a number of small trees blocking the main trail and lugged them out of the way. I was careful not to overdo the sawing on my first day of trail grooming, so I'm ready for another go. I love snowshoeing out back and becoming acquainted with all the trees and the rises and dips on our land. Today, though, if I chop down anything, it had better be our Christmas tree. Do we have the strength to dig out our ornaments and lights? That's the real question. We're both so exhausted from the move. Our living room is still a disaster area, despite the fact I spent two hours trying to organize it yesterday. It's hard to be patient with such slow progress.

Christmas is upon us, and I'm not ready. That's not to say I'm ever really ready, but this year I'm terribly behind the season. Gifts are out there in postal space somewhere, and I'm glad no storm is predicted for the Northeast in the next 24 hours, so they'll arrive at the eleventh hour and not the thirteenth.

Sunday, January 1st will be my first day working at the skiing mountain near us. I'll be working in the marketing department; i.e. answering the phone, selling tickets, doing whatever needs doing in the ticket area. From 8:00 am to 4:30 every Sunday and Monday until around April 18, that's where I'll be. The job doesn't pay much, but I do get free, unlimited skiing. I thrive on new experiences; they nourish the writing. In the spring, I'll look for another tourism-related job for the summer months. I'd love to work at Circle B Ranch, with all the horses, but that's a pipe dream because I'm not all that knowledgeable about horse care or riding. Maybe with my "marketing experience," they'd hire me to sell tickets and answer the phone. Then perhaps my perk would be free riding lessons and trailrides.

This morning it was four below zero again. Temps will rise to around 15 to 18 degrees later today. Sophie and I won't head out on the trails until a bit later this morning. The sun is out for a change, and the landscape looks frozen, crisp and fresh.

I hope to post another entry later today. We still have an unending load of boxes to deal with. And I am so fed up with them all.

Yesterday was yet another day of intermittant flurries. The snowflakes swirl and fall gently, and visibility isn't a problem. Small patches of blue sky appear, but they're mostly obscured by low altocumulus clouds. Occasionally a few moments of sunshine appear amidst the snowflakes, but the golden glow vanishes just as quickly. It seems I just can't get enough of gazing off toward the mountains--the view changes from minute to minute as snow on the summits intensifies and lightens up, and as sunlight filters through the clouds to wrap the mountaintops in a smoky yellow haze.

Sophie and I snowshoed the same trail as Sunday, and the pooch found the going much easier on our old tracks. She still wanted to walk on the back of my snowshoes, but I dedicated the morning to training her to walk ahead of me. With just a few sharp no's and lavish praise when she galloped ahead of me, she learned quickly. What a relief!

The snowshoeing expedition was lots of fun and provided an intense workout, mostly because the snow is much deeper than I thought. The shoes sunk down about six to seven inches, and poor Sophie was in snow up to her shoulders (haunches?), indicating that the snow depth is at least 17 inches. This fact did not dampen her enthusiasm one bit. When she tired of loping in the deep stuff, she followed me, walking in my tracks--and on the back of my snowshoes. This made walking so difficult. I tried holding my skipoles behind me to keep her off my shoes, but it didn't work, so I got more of a workout than I bargained for.

The mountains closest to us, directly to the northwest and not visible from the house, looked so beautiful. Once again, the summits were hazy with snow falling. My next task is to study the U.S. Geological Survey maps and find out their names and elevations. I wonder if there are hiking trails up there.

Sophie and I ventured into the woods using our main trail that runs to the south of the house. When we tired, we stopped and listened. The quiet astounds me. Sophie lay in the snow, ears cocked, nose quivering and we soaked in the scene for a long time. Far, far in the distance, we heard a dog barking, and then a gun shot, closer. Then I broke the silence, just in case any hunter committing the sin of shooting offseason were around. I shouted that I'd drag his lousy hide from one end of Johnsburg to the other if I caught him shooting on my land. There was no one to hear me, of course. That's part of what made the declaration so much fun. Our neighbor to the south has not been here in weeks, so they couldn't hear.

Today Sophie and I are going snowshoeing, I vow. (She did not get sick from the chili she found across the street from our neighbor’s. Just a Tex-Mex dog, I guess.) So, excessive fatigue or not, I’ll get those new shoes on and head out the back or up on the state-owned trails that are right around the corner. Temps have warmed considerably since Wednesday. In fact, at six this morning it was only about 25 degrees, and, according to the weather experts, these temps should be in place for the next six days or so. Time for outdoor sports; to hell with unpacking, although I’m dying to get my stereo and P.C. up and running.

As far as downhill skiing goes, I think I’ve mentioned that I haven’t been since my late twenties, although I’m a veteran cross-country skier. I have to confess I’m very nervous about putting on those monstrously heavy downhill ski boots and inserting them in the bindings. So clunky! But I have to start somewhere, and the back pasture looks like a fine place to get my sea legs. Is it possible I can get to Gore Mountain this week? With my non-holiday ski pass, I won’t be able to ski from December 24-January 1, so I’m eager to get there before Saturday. First step: Ski lesson or the smallest of the little bunny slopes? The lesson is key, though. I just want to learn the proper stance and where to put my weight. Crucial. Okay, so I’ll plan a day. How about Tuesday and Thursday? One day for the lesson and the other day to practice what I’ve learned.

I'd say between eight to ten inches of snow fell yesterday; I'm so grateful we did not get the mix of rain, sleet, and snow that everyone south of here experienced. Snow is so much easier to deal with. I stayed inside all day and unpacked from morning til night. At the end of the day I was ready to scream at the top of my lungs. The boredom of the job is excruciating. Today I declare a day off from all that. Until eight last night we had no tv. I'm dying for some music, but our stereos are not set up. And can you believe I was too exhausted to dig out a radio?

This morning Sophie and I went for a walk down the road. We walked up the steep hill and the mountaintops closeby, to the west-northwest of us, were veiled in a dark mist of snow flurries. So beautiful.

I guess I'm going to have to keep Sophie on a leash when I walk by our neighbor's house. Seems they threw out a lot of chili into the snow across the street from their home, and guess who found it and wolfed it down? Oh, the joys of dog ownership--she's sure to be sick from it. Tomato sauce, onions, chili powder, and beans are not viable in a dog's digestive tract. It was the last thing I expected to find on the street, or I would have planned accordingly. I guess I've got a lot to learn about life around here. And not the things I was expecting. It makes sense in a way, though. People don't have garbage disposals, no trash pick-up, and to dispose of garbage and trash is a dollar a bag. That's why the previous owners of our house did not toss out their junk. At least that's what they told the realtor!

I really want to go snowshoeing, but I am too tired to gear up. All I want is some peace today and a chance to put my feet up. The outdoor adventures I'm eager to have will just have to wait until I regroup. I'm definitely going to crawl into bed this afternoon for a nap.

As of yesterday at three p.m., the moving vans lumbered down the road and we declared the big move officially over. Now, of course, we can hardly get around all the boxes. And wouldn't you know, the dryer died last evening. We tried everything we could think of to get it going again, but it's not responding to treatment. The nearest appliance fixer is an hour away in Glens Falls, though we're hoping we'll be able to smoke out someone more local.

I was unpacking all late afternoon in the kitchen and missed the moonrise. When I walked into the living room at about four thirty, the moon was high above the horizon. I went wild with joy. We're going to see moonrises! In Canton, the trees were so thick to the east, we never saw the moon or the sun rise at home.

Have to interrupt here--Ken is prowling around looking for coffee.

First morning as a bona fide Adirondacks resident! Outside my kitchen window the temperature is fifteen below. I'm worried about our movers. They don't have the gear to deal with this cold, so I'll be outfitting them with Ken's jackets, keeping hot coffee brewing, and stuffing them with doughnuts today. The high temperature for today is expected to be around ten degrees. How will our furnace deal with an open door all day? Not only that, but my long underwear is all packed away, every stitch of it. I thought I had my new Hot Chilis up here, and maybe I do, but right now I can't find them. I guess to deal with the cold I'll be escaping to the upstairs rooms whenever I can.

As I mentioned in last night's post, Sophie went wild with happy delirium last night. I swear that incredible dog understood that this is our new home. She danced, cavorted, ran around the house numerous times at top speed, rolled in the snow, came bounding inside to find all her toys in the living room. Unfortunately, she's taken a liking to drinking out of the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. We have to leave the door open because there's no heat in there. It's adjacent to our propane stove that's in the living room, so it stays fairly well heated that way. (I'm glad, though, that Ken has staked out this bathroom as "his bathroom," meaning that he'll shower there and I'll shower in the upstairs bathroom. Suits me perfectly, shiver, shiver.

Right at this moment, Sophie is yipping in her sleep as she lies curled up on the couch. The poor dog is worn out from all the excitement of the past few days.

I can't wait to set up my office and to have my PC up and running, my writing desk all ready to go (I'm placing the writing desk in front of the window that overlooks the barn and the birches, a beautiful scene.) And, did I mention? I have a studio now. A roomy space to draw and paint, sew, work on knitting projects, you name it.

I must interrupt this entry to build Ken some coffee. Stay tuned!

Finally! It's half past ten, and the big moving day is drawing to a close. For the first time today, I'm sitting down. Sophie's sitting next to me, fighting to stay awake. It's seven below zero, but, as Ken pointed out, it doesn't feel as nasty as seven below in Boston. It's a drier cold here, I think. Sophie went beserk shortly after we arrived. I had been telling her, "We're going home, we're going home." She raced out of the van as soon as I opened the door, and ran around and around, having a wonderful time. She adores sub-zero weather and always has.

I'm going to sign off for today. The movers arrive in the moring with the loaded vans. It'll be another very long day. Just one more, and it's done. A neighbor asked me this morning,"Aren't you excited?" I admitted that deep down I am, but I'm so tired I don't feel anything else but that.

I'm blogging from the Johnsburg library, all because I left my laptop behind in Canton. Dealing with all the aspects of the carpet cleaning has been much more time-consuming than I expected, so I'm not going to get that day of leisure I was hoping for. So much to do! I cannot wait to be settled. I cannot. I want my mind filled with thoughts other than boxes, handymen, and living out of a suitcase.
Wouldn't it be great to have the time to gaze out the window, to take a walk and be able to stop to listen to the forest sounds? To sit on a couch, feet up, and snuggle into a book--I mean, some deep book cuddling! To cook a tasty meal other than the easiest and quickest menus?

I've got to get me some hedge or bush clippers or trimmers and a small axe, so I can bushwhack some trails out the back of our land. I took a hike out there yesterday and found it really tough going.

My office in the new house is going to be wonderful. As I've mentioned previously, the daylight can't be beat. Sunlight shines in starting at about nine and goes til the afternoon. I'm going to be able to put one desk in front of the window overlooking the birches and the barn. What will I write?? The future seems wide open, and I haven't a clue right now where my pen will take me.

The only sour note about life up here has been in the grocery department. I knew that my Newton Whole Foods Market and my Westwood Roche Bros. would be impossible to match. But the abyss is very wide indeed. Food gathering is going to be a disappointing pastime for a while, until I adjust or find other ways of getting the items I want.

When I woke up this morning, I felt like blogging. Right now I'm tired and just want some time to relax. I guess I've got to work that in somehow this afternoon.

Canton tomorrow--Thursday. Then Friday a long day of appointments followed by a going away party for us, with all the folks from my covenant group. I'm not as sad as I might be, because we're planning a retreat for everyone at our new place next summer. And I'm sure I'll see them on visits.

Saturday and Sunday finish packing. Monday the packers arrive. Tuesday the movers. And Tuesday afternoon we'll drive north with Sophie to our new home. What will Sophie think?

I left Canton at 9:15 this morning, and I feel confident I remembered everything except for my laptop. I'm so disappointed because I wanted to do some blogging this evening and over the next few days while at the new house. Right now I'm at the Crandall Library in Glens Falls, where I'm borrowing a couple of novels. I need to move on, but I wanted to post just to say that I will make a newsy post on Wednesday when the library in Johnsburg is open. Weather's going to be frigid tonight. Talkin' -3 to 7 degrees windchill! I just hope the mice haven't overrun the place or you'll hear me screaming from coast to coast.