A morning and afternoon of solitude. A perfect day off for someone who works surrounded by people. Ken had a gig in Olmstedville, so I had the day to myself. After spending some time reading this morning, Sophie and I trekked out to knoll country. Because of the excellent visibility, I wanted to snowshoe up "Sanity Hill" (so dubbed by our next-door neighbor).

I hiked all over the top of the hill, but the highlight of the trip is always the look-out at the open ledge. The northwest wind blustered and made my eyes water, even though I was wearing sunglasses, and my face felt flash-frozen. At that moment I was glad I decided not to go skiing; the wind whips mercilessly on the north-facing trails, which are the ones I like most. I marveled over the view with Sophie by my side, sitting at attention on a short leash. (I'm afraid she'll try a flying leap off the ledge).

Animal tracks were absent today everywhere I snowshoed. All I saw was one set of coyote tracks and the footprints of another tiny animal. (Must find out who owned these in my Tracks guide.) That's it, and we were out hiking more than two hours. Are the animals lying low because of the cold? I wouldn't think so; I'd think they'd be out mid-day while the sun was high.

We tramped out into our acreage, and I was downcast because so many trees were blown down in that high-wind storm of ten days ago. Ken and I have been noting that we need a chainsaw, and considering that my way was totally blocked by fallen birch, spruce, and poplars, I'm eager to buy one. I don't like the feeling that I can't hike back there. I was talking yesterday with Martin Olsen, who works at Garnet Hill Cross-Country Ski Center. He came to my office yesterday, as he does on the days when he downhill skis. Evidently the cross-country trail that links Garnet Hill to Gore is now completely blocked by dozens of fallen trees. Clearing that out will have to wait until this summer. It's a huge job, clearing a trail after a big blow-down. Makes me wonder, can we manage it? I want to fish in Kibby Creek come May, so we'd better do something.

My legs and arms were shaky by the time I got back to the house. Low-blood sugar, I guess; I definitely needed something to eat. I should start carrying a snack with me on these trips. I made a cup of hot cocoa and sat looking out to the northeast, studying the high peaks from the living room. Such peace. I spent the next hour writing, ate lunch, took a shower and a nap. What a great day.

I keep meaning to keep track of the books I've read. I'm now relaxing with Friends, Lovers, Chocolate by Alexander McCall Smith. I love the Isabel Dalhousie books, all because of the Edinburgh setting. Edinburgh is a city beyond description. I don't know when a place has stimulated my creative juices more. The dramatic landscape, with the castle towering over the city, made me breathless when I was nineteen, and has been a cherished memory ever since. It would be lovely to return. In the meantime, I read these books.

Coldest weather of the winter, with the possible exception of the two-three days we moved in, in mid-December. It was more than ten below zero this morning when I walked Sophie before heading out to work. Both of us were more than glad to keep the walk brief. My face froze and Sophie's paws were giving her trouble.

People are skiing, for sure, but they're spending lots of time in the lodge drinking hot chocolate and coffee, too. There was a photo shoot on the mountain today for one of the big ski magazines, and a few hearty photographers, models, and Gore personnel braved the event.

Last evening after work, actually it was just before five, Ken and I took in a mini-adventure to Black Mountain Ski Motel and Lodge, which is the closest restaurant to our home. I suggested we drop in and have a drink before dinner, because I have heard from so many people that it's now the most popular place to hang out among mountain employees, professionals in town, and, well, all year-round folks. We've found it's important to hang out from time to time, because it's in watering holes like this one that critical information gets exchanged. When you're new to town, it's fun to walk into a place and know people. We had a long conversation with one of Annie's colleagues, a really nice guy, who had just returned from 100 miles of snowmobiling in the Indian Lake region. He's a real outdoorsman and knows trails around here that are not in any of the guidebooks. But we didn't talk about that. Our conversation focused on home energy possibilities--solar, wind power, propane generators, and the like. I'm learning a lot from conversations with other people who've lived here a while, and who have discovered unique ways to survive. I soak up all the information I can and feel frustrated when it would appear awkward if I pulled out a memopad.

To ski or not to ski? Tomorrow's forecast is for windchill temperaturest to be twenty to thirty degrees below zero. I think if I ski at all, I will step into my cross-country skis and travel the forest trails near home. We

My seed order arrived in the mail today! Didn't I just place my order on Friday? I'm mystified at how they managed to get it here so quick, because central Maine is not nearby, not by a long shot.

It snowed all day today. I haven't ventured out since eleven this morning, so I'm not sure how much has fallen, but we believe it's in the order of six or seven inches or so on top of what came down on Thursday. Great news for the mountain, where I'll be standing behind a desk tomorrow. The temperature's supposed to drop to zero tonight, so maybe I'll be glad I'm inside for once.

It was a peaceful snowfall. No high winds, no ferocious downdrafts, just the quiet of snow. I walked Sophie, who kept coming to me to remove the rock-hard snowballs from between her toes. We both were glad when it was time to head home.

I baked honey whole wheat bread and was so glad that this time we have a finished product. Aside from laundry and a number of household chores, I found the time to retreat to my office to write for a while. Since I haven't been writing much to speak of (other than the blog, of course), I just sat in front of the computer, spent five minutes conjuring up a story that intrigued me, and started writing. I'm always amazed by what happens when I do this. I got so absorbed in the tale that I nearly forgot to take the bread out of the oven. Neighbors dropped by to visit and I found I couldn't wait for them to leave so I could continue writing. Now I'm annoyed I have to work tomorrow. Anyway, such an exercise is a great way to break out of a nonwriting rut.

I don't want to go to sleep tonight because I want more time for communion with my mind, but five o'clock will come so early, I know I'll turn the light out when I should.

I phoned in my seed order today. I tried to be conservative; I really did, but I was still shocked at the total tally: nearly one hundred dollars--of just seeds! My mother tells stories of the despair my grandfather would be in at the time he placed his seed order for the family farm, which usually was in March. Seed poor, that described the lot of most farm families in early spring.

But seeds are so much more expensive than they were last time I placed a major order in the early 1990s. And there's so many more expenditures that must be made. First, we need lumber for the compost bin and the cold frame; also plexiglas for the latter. Then there's all the materials for the electric fence, which will probably prove to be the most outrageous of our garden expenses. To help us build the best fence, I borrowed from the library today a book entitled Backyard Battle Plan: The Ultimate Guide to Controlling Wildlife Damage in Your Garden by Cooper Rutledge. The first Saturday in February, we had dinner with our neighbors on both sides of us. Everyone told all sorts of stories about the lives of the previous owners of our home. "Did they tell you about the enormous woodchuck who lives under the swimming pool?" Ed asked me. At that moment, my heart dropped like a lead anchor thrown overboard in the dead of night. As my Uncle Connie would express it, "I can't believe it! It's uncanny!" No matter where I've lived or where I've tried to have a garden, I've been extraordinarily and unreasonably cursed by woodchucks.

When I moved here, I asked everyone I knew about woodchucks. All look puzzled at the question. No, no woodchucks here, not in the Adirondacks. And I stupidly relaxed. I should've known. Why wouldn't they be here?

So, besides the woodchuck, I've got to worry about deer, raccoons (all because Ken insists that I grow corn in this garden), and woodchucks. I'm sure there'll be other critters who'll dine at my expense. It's a good thing I bought all those seeds.

Tuesday night at 8:15 p.m., Ken and I were finishing eating dinner when Pizazz! The lights came on. We sat staring at each other, open-mouthed with shock. It took several minutes for the light to sink in and for us to realize the full implications of a life with electricity. Blowdrying my hair was near the top on my list, and for Ken, besides the fact that he could now record 24, which was due to come on in 45 minutes, he was most happy about the prospect of sleeping through the night without having to bottle-feed the generator.

Today is the first of my three days off from work and I'm too exhausted to fully enjoy the day. I don't know what's wrong, but since I was sick a day last week, I've been extremely achy and tired--too tired even to cross-country ski in the new snow. We've been starved for natural snow up here. We get a dusting here, an inch there, and that's about it.

Aside from walking Sophie during a snowburst this morning--five inches fell in just a couple of hours--I'm hanging out at home today, and am in the midst of finalizing my seed order and starting a garden plan. The focus this first year will be on growing vegetables, although I do want a profusion of zinnias and daylilies. The budget is tight, so flowers must take a back seat for a while. To many people here, garden planning may seem premature, especially since we live in Zone 4 (on the outskirts of Zone 3), and we're not frost-free until early June. But we've got lots of things to work out. The building of a cold frame is one, and beginning a container garden is another. I can get a jump on the season by growing some vegetables in containers, which can be grown earlier.

No matter how tired I am, I won't be too fatigued to drop in at the Wine Bar at Friends Lake Inn with Ken early this evening. Although the inn is having their busiest time this week, it won't be crowded with the skiing hordes the way many other restaurants in the area will be. The inn attracts a quieter, more sedate clientele. I really need a haven from skier mania right now.

Still no electricity, yet a hopeful sign. A convoy of National Grid trucks moved into town today. Ken spotted them near the general store. Does this mean that we who live in "sparsely populated" parts of the area will soon be getting power? Perhaps, but we're not counting on it. North Country Public Radio reported that power in the area may be resumed on Wednesday, but I'm doubtful about our situation with that huge tree on the lines.

Tomorrow a much welcome day off after two days in the whirlwind of Presidents Week holiday skiers. This is the busiest period of the entire ski season, and I survived two days of it so far. Tomorrow I have no grand ambition other than to hike with Sophie, ferret out some food at that Grand Union market if it's humanly possible, read on the couch, and start making garden plans. It's time to lay the groundwork, starting with seed orders. First online stop: Johnny's Selected Seeds in Maine.

A terrible tragedy befell a stranger today, and I feel shocked and stunned, so much so that I don't feel my normal self at all. All a person can do is live every day to its fullest extent because, well, you know. A moment of silence, please.

We've entered our third day with no electricity. I imagine it will be awhile before we get the juice because I haven't seen hide nor hair of an electric company truck anywhere near our area. I feel sorry for the poor souls who are vacationing and whose lodging has no power. What a way to ruin your winter getaway!

The worst of our situation is the darkness. I find it so difficult to get ready for work, make my lunch, and get breakfast by flashlight or candle. But at least we have heat, running water (within limits), and electricity in Ken's office and my office. We can't run anything that uses lots of power: no heating devices, toaster ovens, hairdryers, etc. But Ken has found a way to get power to our fridge. So what do I have to complain about? Nothing, except Ken's extreme fatigue from nursing the generator along. I worry. It'll be close to zero again tonight, I believe, and he'll need to go out repeatedly.

Eleventh Mountain continues to surprise. I walked Sophie when I came home from work and we hiked up the road where we have the best view. That mountain never looks the same way twice. The colors are constantly changing along with the light and the movement of clouds. I am in a state of constant amazement whenever I walk this way. This morning, the dawn light was a subtle mixture of pink and gray, with light tones of a dull orange brushed in. When I study the scene, I imagine I'm painting a pastel drawing, blending the colors with my fingertips.

I've been dying to get away for a morning to go horseback riding. The Circle B Ranch offers winter riding, and they're not far away, in Chestertown, in fact. Annie's eyes lit up when I mentioned it to her, so maybe we'll go this week or next. The mountain is far too crowded for me this week, jam packed with families as well as teens skiing and snowboarding at death-defying speeds. No, thank you. I'll wait for all of them to go home before I venture onto the slopes again.

Ohmigod! Ken has just rigged up a light in the kitchen that's sitting on top of the fridge and connected to the electricity that's in his office. I'm so glad he has a degree in electrical engineering--if there's any way to make a woman happy, it's to put a light where she cooks. I hate to tell him, but people who inquire to the electric company are being told power won't be back til.... Wednesday.

Tonight's challenge is to type in the dark. I think i cna, I rhink I dan. The minute I woke up Friday morning, I gathered laundry and started washing, hoping to get two loads done before we lost our power. I succeeded, but I was not so lucky with the honey whole wheat bread. It was on its second rising, all set to go into the oven, when at 9:50 am, we lost it. I couldn't believe it because the cold front hadn't come through yet and it hadn't been all that windy up to that point. What was the meaning of this! I expect to lose power when the wind gusts to 70 mph, but not when it's 30 to 40. In any case, the wild morning began soon after my oven died, with hailstones the size of hard candies and winds that made the roof groan so loudly, I was afraid it would be ripped off.

Ken immediately went out to start the generator and we hoped for the best, it being our first time running it. After about a half hour, the heat was back on and we were in business. The only problem was we had no running water. The generator is supposed to provide energy for the pump, but it wasn't. It turned out two ciruits had been blown out, not on Friday, but most likely the last time the previous owners had run the generator. In any event, after much study and contemplation, Ken solved the problem today, and we now can flush toilets and, very occasionally, splurge on a hot shower. I got first dibs on that since I have to face the public tomorrow, and I couldn't face it with dirty, stringy hair. All of Johnsburg is without power, on this the second day without. I think it's likely that we won't have it restored for another couple of days because there's a huge tree that's fallen on top of the wires in the woods. That's a weird thing to me, running electricity on poles through the woods. I'm stumped as to why they don't run poles along the road, though I'm sure there must be a good reason. (?)

On top of that, I was sick yesterday. Today I'm just enjoying reading on the couch, though I did have to do food shopping this morning. We now have a grocery to replace Tops. It's Grand Union Family Market. They were supposed to be fully open on Wednesday, and to their credit, I suppose, they managed to get their sign erected and were successful in outfitting the employees in Grand Union uniforms. Only problem is the GU powers that be did not manage to get any food to the store. I was appalled by how little there was. Thank goodness the proprietors of The Secret Ingredient across the street were decently stocked with organic produce and dairy foods, or Ken and I would be eating Tostitos, sardines, and butter tonight.

It's supposed to go down to 10 below tonight, which means the generator will have to be bottle-fed gasoline at least once every two hours, I imagine. So far Ken has insisted on doing it. I feel guilty, though. At least he doesn't have to go to work tomorrow. This will be my busiest stretch ever at the mountain--the Presidents' Week Holiday. I've been trying to rest all day today to be ready for it.

Thursday was exploration day. Annie and her Lab, and Sophie and I hiked all over the trails around the lower elevations of Crane Mountain. It was so warm that I ended up whipping off my fleece jacket to climb in just a turtleneck and jeans. I was so hot. We were talking so much that we missed the point where we were supposed to ascend the steeper portions, so we ended up exploring the Putnam Farm area and surrounding trails. By the time we retraced our steps and found the trail we should have taken, we'd already been hiking four hours and were too tired to do anything but pack the dogs in Annie's Jeep and head home. I love Annie's adventuresome spirit--she's always up for any challenge. Crane Mountain is so beautiful. At one point, we stood in an open field where the mountain opened up before us and we both stood in awe, for once speechless.

We made Valentine's Day a genuine holiday. After 75 minutes of hiking with Sophie, executed with the plan to wear her out, Ken and I left for Speculator. The drive through the Siamese Ponds Wilderness was beautiful. For most of the trip, the road hugs the Sacandaga River. I couldn't believe the number of trailheads marked along Route 8, including one for Eleventh Mountain. Naturally, I itched to climb it immediately, that majestic mountain that looms large over our neighborhood. The map indicates that it is more than 3200 feet, which makes it almost as tall as Gore, but it doesn't look it.

In Speculator, we had fun browsing through Charliejohns store, a store that sells groceries, hardware items, some camping gear and equipment, and an extraordinary selection of Adirondack titles. I spent most of my time browsing through the books and ended up buying Discover the South Central Adirondacks by Barbara McMartin and Bill Ingersoll, which describes trails in the Siamese Ponds Wilderness north to Gore Mountain, Indian Lake, and the Garnet Hills in North River. I also purchased North Country Wildflowers, a gorgeous, complete guide to wildflowers of the Northeastern U.S. and southern Canada.

Oops--time to get ready to go to work. I'll finish this post this evening.

Lake-effect snow (from the Great Lakes) often follows on the heels of a huge coastal storm. The snow fell off and on today, but it was just a tease. No, we did not get even a single snowflake out of the coastal blizzard that swept New York City. Yes, we're unhappy about that, but although the cross-country skiers and snowmobile enthusiasts are miserable, the mountain continues to make snow 24 hours a day, as it has for the psat nine to ten days.

When I got home from work, the snow started coming down in earnest. I poured a glass of Excelsior Cabernet (a house favorite from a vineyard not far from Capetown, South Africa), and stood in the living room looking out the windows toward the northeast. The snow fell furiously for about 20 minutes and I was transfixed, watching the snow fall and the landscape become obscured. Only the fir trees remained, their dark, conical heads appearing in the distance. As time passed, the nearest hills reappeared, then the mountains. Before long, the birch trees emerged. I watched until the last snowflakes fell and clouds appeared in the distance. I was filled with sadness because I wanted more. After an incredibly busy day answering phones that refused to stop ringing, I longed to lose myself in the swirling whiteness for hours. Reluctantly, I picked up the laptop to blog awhile, but words are always inadequate.

Tomorrow I have a day off, and part of me is crying out for adventure and solitude. A hike to a place we've never been? Perhaps. I wonder if Valentine's Day is a good day to drive to Speculator with Ken. We've been wanting to go west. There's plenty of nuthin' between here and Speculator, which is 29 miles west. That's what lots of people say. But in truth, the Siamese Ponds Wilderness is there, home to bears, bobcat, lynx, and many other Adirondack mammals that are rarely found further east and south. I'd like to drive by and imagine them roaming freely, with nothing to encumber them. The town of Speculator has several stores, so it would be a fun destination.

Sometimes it's amazing how little can be accomplished in one day. I had an hour to think and reflect early this morning, which was not calming because I realized how much more I should be doing to stay on top of financial affairs, general business, and housework.

Sophie deserved a really good hike today, so that took 90 minutes. (Of course I loved every minute. See below.) I managed to get my haircut, which also took 90 minutes because I had to wait and no one is in a hurry. Actually, this is a good thing when it comes time for someone to cut your own hair. I rushed home, made two batches of muffins (pumpkin for me and blueberry for Ken), did three loads of laundry, and in an exhausted, mindless fog deleted hundreds of spammy e-mails. I should call and e-mail my friends in Boston, but I'm so tired, I'm afraid I'll sound like I'm languishing up here, and that's not the case at all. I'm finding it incredibly difficult; no, I'm finding it impossible to fully engage in life here and stay on top of my friends' lives back in Massachusetts. I just don't have the energy. I pick up the phone to call, stare at the wall thinking of what I can possibly say, and hang up.

The pup and I bushwhacked our way northeastward to the most distant property boundary, and then some. I was determined to make it all the way to Kibby Creek, which has been a rushing torrent this winter. The last three nights have been zero degrees or below, and, as a result, the creek is full of ice floes. Sophie raced back and forth, trying to find a place to cross, and I called her back. There was no way I wanted her in there with the mid-morning temperature of ten degrees. We headed home, across the tracks of innumerable coyotes and snowshoe hares. I guess they must battle it out all winter out there. Then, once back at the house, we headed back up the knoll, (elevation 1900 feet), with the mission to find the open ledge that we can see from the pastures on our property. When I started climbing the steeps, Sophie became nervous, rushing around at the bottom, as if she were saying, "Are you crazy climbing that steep thing?" But it wasn't that steep, really. I had sturdy boots, and I've climbed much steeper inclines than that and so has she. Not to be left behind, she bounded up, and after some searching, we came upon the ledge, which was grass and moss covered, completely open, and offered breathtaking views to the north. I had binoculars with me, and, after commanding Sophie to lie at my feet, I reveled in the unobscured views of Eleventh Mountain, Gore (including the summit), and several of the high peaks, including Mt. Marcy. I've got to get Ken up there somehow, and with a good camera. What a place for a winter picnic!

Last night and early this morning, I thought I'd spend the day at home, exploring our land and hiking northeastward toward Kibby Creek. But as daylight approached and revealed a cloudless sky, I began itching to ski. I went to the mountain yesterday and skiied with a group of friends. We got an early start, and by late morning, my skiing was exhibiting evidence that I was too tired to continue, largely because I had slept so poorly the night before. In any case, egged on by the group, I took another run and took some nasty spills. I didn't get hurt, but I made my way down the mountain very slowly, and said my goodbyes to everyone. Time for a nap, all right.

So although I thought I'd catch up on things at home today, I just can't do it. I'm so addicted, I've got to go take at least two runs. I'll give Sophie her hike, and then I'll be off. So my other goals and projects get put on hold because this alpine skiing thing is just too much fun.

Later today I hope to blog about Julie and Julia by Julie Powell.

Today I had the time of my life--yes, I was on the slopes for most of the day. With the colder weather, the snowmaking team has had the jets blasting full force for the past 48 hours, and the skiing at Gore was beautiful. For the first time, I was transported to the summit (3600 feet) where it was much warmer than most of the rest of the mountain. I had been warned away by some other skiers who had "heard" that it was bone-chilling up there. But not so at all.

I'm now swooping down all the intermediate slopes. I can't believe I'm no longer crawling down the mountain. What a difference practice makes! I wish I could go tomorrow, but it's back to work for me. I'll go Thursday. And maybe Friday. I'm so hooked.

On March 5, the third annual Northwoods Triathlon will be held at Gore. Alpine skiing, snowshoeing, and cross-country skiing. I'd love to do it, but training for it will be difficult if we don't get some natural snow. I'm supposed to work Sundays, but maybe I can get someone to trade off days with me so I can participate. Sounds like a fun challenge. I believe I can do it, but I do need to practice the course. Why can't we get a decent snowstorm up here this year?

After a perfectly horrid day of rain yesterday, this morning the sun is shining. It's so wet underfoot, though. I want to climb the knoll with Sophie and soak in the view. I'm not positive, but by my map calculations, I believe the huge mountain we see to the north is Mt. Marcy. One of the high peaks we can see to the north-northeast from our living room is Nippletop, and Marcy is west of that on the horizon line, according to the pictorial map at the Saddle Lodge on Gore Mountain. I'll bring maps and compass with me.

I'll have to keep Sophie on the leash through the muddy sections. If left on her own, she's sure to jump in with all four feet and sink up to her haunches. If I stick to the spots where there's still snow, we'll be okay. I should get up off this couch and get going because I'm also going grocery shopping in North Creek today.

The mention of food shopping makes me want to shriek. Tops, the only full grocery in North Creek, is closing its doors on February 15. The wholesaler buying the store chain promised that there would be no interruption in service in North Creek when Tops leaves. Yet I have neither heard nor read anything that indicates there'll be food available there after the 15th. With Tops stores closing in Chestertown, Warrensburg, and Schroon Lake, we are up the creek without the proverbial paddle. The nearest supermarket starting February 16 will be Price Chopper in Queensbury, which is 35 miles away!!! How's that for a horror show? Granted, we'll be able to buy milk at the little general store, but that's just a convenience mart, not a place to grocery shop. This all means that I will have to go to Glens Falls--Queensbury once a week, which consumes more than half a day.

On a more cheerful note, after hours of the dreariest rain, Ken and I drove the pickup over to the Wine Bar at Friends Lake Inn for our customary Friday night burger and wine. (Actually, Ken prefers the Glens Falls microbrew they've got on tap.) We're becoming Friday evening regulars over there. I just love the atmosphere--the space is so cozy and inviting, and most important, so quiet. The inn's guests gather for drinks before dinner, but despite the good-sized crew last night, it's never noisy. We talked a long time with a couple from Connecticut who are building a home in Thurman, on the south side of Crane Mountain.

Did I mention that I'm now working three full days a week at the mountain? I'm there at my post Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. For some reason, the extra day is making the job feel more than part-time. Yesterday the sun was shining and every skier that trooped into the office had a big smile and rosy cheeks, and they were all exclaiming how good the skiing was. Every comment made my heart race--if only I could be out there!

This morning I'm hiking with a friend, and then the LaBars, our friends who own Morningside Camps and Cottages in Minerva, are visiting with their two Labs. Friday rain is predicted, but I'm going skiing come hell or high water. As long as it isn't pouring, it'll be okay.

Many thanks to the reader who suggested Blizzak snowtires for the minivan. Ken and I have discussed getting snowtires. Do you know if snowtires help with muddy roads?