Adirondack High

2006-09-16T17:15:00.000-04:00

The sun finally came out from the low-hanging clouds today to give my group from Long Island some beautiful fall foliage views from Crane Mountain. They were such a fun group (2 couples) that I hated saying goodbye when the trip was over.

Things are perking along with the business, and it continues to be very hard work with most of my time spent on marketing. My internal CEO is in my ear all the time saying that the financial manager has to have some time, but there are only so many hours in a week, and that sector of the business has had to be neglected. I'm enjoying the challenge of running a business so much, though, and I do work so hard at it that I figure that everything is going to work out eventually.

But if I had one wish (or maybe two), I'd wish for more time outdoors studying the natural world. My other wish is that I'd have more time to do some non-business writing--fiction writing, blogging, and journal writing, I mean. Okay, a third wish--that I can be fortunate enough for the business to be able to afford a dedicated business vehicle that I could use to ferry my clients around. That would be great, but the insurance (both auto and business liability) would be very expensive. Still, I can dream.

The sun is very low in the sky and is shining on the sugar maple outside my office window right now--red, orange, yellow, and green all lit up--so beautiful!

Today is Ken's birthday, so I'm taking him out tonight to celebrate even though we're going to the "big city" of Glens Falls for an official celebratory meal on Tuesday. I don't know where we'll end up tonight, but I hope the kitchen wherever we go is ready for me. I have a huge appetite after mountain climbing.

2006-09-02T08:19:00.000-04:00

Unbelievable but true: I wrote the following entry last Saturday, August 26, on my laptop in North Creek, but wasn't able to get around to posting it until this morning. I was going to delete it but decided to put it up anyway. So here it is:

Last Saturday in August and Café Sarah’s is buzzing. I’ve had to wait (imagine!) to get a blogging perch at the counter area that overlooks Main Street.

Nights have been cool, actually downright cold at times. I’ve loved it as far as sleeping is concerned, but I’m wondering if my garden peppers will ever turn red and if I’ll get any more full-grown summer squash and cukes. I’ve got dozens of tiny squashes all ready to pop, but they need warmer weather, especially warmer nights. Yes, I can confirm the fact: It’s difficult growing vegetables here.

Maybe that’s why I’ve had a lot of satisfaction with my container garden on our deck, and I’ll definitely repeat the experience next year, with some adjustments. I’ll plant more tomato plants that are resistant to fusarium wilt and verticulum wilt. These diseases haven’t wiped out my tomatoes by any means, but they have diminished the productivity of two varieties I’ve planted. Next year, I’m planting more tomatoes and squash, and more lettuce and mesclun. I’d love to get into the perennial flower thing, but I’ve enjoyed our wildflowers so much, I’m wondering if I’ll ever bother to make the time, given my work restrictions.

I started the tomatoes too early and the eggplant too late, so next year they will both be planted on April 8-12, along with the eggplant and the peppers.

My favorite Adirondacks month will be here this coming Friday (yippee!), and I hope to jam it with time spent outdoors under blue skies. Besides guiding clients in the wilderness, I want to expand my safari possibilities by exploring lots of new mountains and trails. And I’m going to try to snatch some time for paddling with Ken. We both need to just steal the time and do it. What are we here for anyway?

When I drove into North Creek this morning behind a mini-van with New Jersey plates, all packed to the gills, I was seized by a moment of sympathy for the vacationers inside. They have only one or two weeks here with the mountains and lakes, and then must pack up their memories for another year and return to what is to me, the sterile urban/suburban environment. Don’t get me wrong: I love spending time in cities, but from an environmental point of view, they’re a wasteland.

One of the realtors in town just this minute said hi and we compared notes on all the folks building on our mountain road. All I can say (to myself) is ohmigod. It’s dizzying—there’s going to be a whole lot of building for the next year or two. (Five different houses within about three-tenths of a mile from our place. Of these, three are weekend people.) And the year-round people are really, really nice folks. Another good thing is that no one has a house lot less than 7.5 acres (as mandated by the Adirondack Park Agency), and the other, as this realtor pointed out, everyone she knows who is building spent a long time hunting before they selected our road, so perhaps most of them will do their best to try to maintain its wild integrity.

2006-08-23T18:14:00.000-04:00

I'm dreaming of a lazy paddle in my Hornbeck boat on a quiet lake that everyone has left behind.

I'm dreaming of reading a book in the late August sun while the dragonflies buzz around my ears and land on my knees and shoulders.

I'm wishing for time to bake a green apple cake and an hour to pick ripe blackberries in my meadow.

I'm wishing for a long lunch with one of my good buddies, where we talk about everything's that's happened to us this summer. But my friends are still too busy, as am I. Slower times will return as the tourists pack up their bags and return to their lives in the city and suburbia far to the south. By November, it'll be so damn quiet around here, I'll be talking to myself for company.

But that's forever away because September and October are going to be very busy. I hope. For more details, check the website.

Those of you who own a business probably know that the experts tell you that you should spend at least 25% of your working hours on marketing. I'm a bit out of balance because I spend 80% of my time on it. Perhaps this is the norm for new businesses. The other 20% I spend with clients. Somewhere I squeeze in a few moments to pay the bills for the business. I need more time working on the financial part of the picture. But there is no financial picture without customers, so I continue to work on marketing.

I definitely need to spend more time gaining in expertise in a number of areas.

In other news...Wait a minute, I don't think I have any other news.

I'm reading Chill Factor by Sandra Brown. I can't believe I am--It's the kind of bestseller potboiler that usually has me so bored by page 50, I return it to the library without going any further. But it's still in the house, so I may make it to page 75. I do love stories in which all the action takes place during a blizzard. Better yet, Chill Factor is set in the mountains of North Carolina.

2006-08-11T17:39:00.000-04:00

It's supposed to go down to 40 degrees tonight! I've been bringing the peppers and eggplant in at night--I only wish I could do the same with the tomatoes, squashes, and cukes. (Yes, Ann's words are haunting me again:"You know, we get frosts in August up here!")

Despite the chilly nights, I'm finding I'm liking August. I've been on numerous hikes and have mistakenly left my bug spray at home. It's been no problem, though I'd never forget it if I were venturing into wetlands, of course.

The business is really percolating these days. A few more clients, yes, but what I'm really referring to are the prospects lining up for the future. Some teaching, some guiding for inns, some workshops--exciting and interesting.

What I find missing, and what I find frustrating, is that I want to write but can't seem to figure out a way to do it. Problem is, when I'm at my desk, I persist in working solely on the business. I can't seem to make my brain switch over to a writing project that I want to work on. Part of what keeps me working only on the business is that the work of it never ends, and there is always more that I can do or should do. By now, I am certain that this is going to be a constant.

So I am stumped at the moment. How do I get myself to take time out for writing? I need to work at my desk because of the computer. So writing somewhere else is not an option. People often recommend that I try the early mornings. But when I'm outdoors so much, I seem to need some extra sleep. In addition, in the early morning my brain is all business and what I do is set goals for the day and I start working on those.

Late afternoons until I start dinner is a great time because I love to write then. That's when I usually write the blogs. So maybe I could finagle a way to get myself to work on a writing project then, not everyday, but a few times a week. ???

What do you think? Please write in and reveal how you've handled squeezing creative work into a busy schedule.

And now that I'm begging for advice, there's another issue I'd like to put out there. Since late winter, I've tentatively explored blogging for a major recreational business concern in the area. The general manager was interested and wanted to see what I could put together. Needless to say, starting a business has made it impossible for me to devote time to putting together a full proposal. Here's the dilemma: One part of me says that I should channel all my energy into growing the business, and any extra writing I do, or blog creating I do, should be for the business. This part also says that if there is extra time it would be better if I write articles and, gosh, maybe even books, related to the business that would build my name and my expertise. This part also points out that I wouldn't earn much for the recreational concern's blog and it would be a lot of work that would sap my energy for my own writing and the business.

Gee, I think I just convinced myself that I shouldn't put time into another company's blog! Thanks for "listening."

2006-08-08T07:09:00.000-04:00

More photos added to last night's post. Blogger is impossible in the evenings!

2006-08-07T17:29:00.000-04:00

Looks like this post is going to be written in fits and starts, according to Ken's work schedule and dinner preparations tonight.

The past couple of days have been a bit frustrating, business-wise and in the neighborhood. Two "doors" down from us an orchardist from the Great Lakes region bought acres upon acres of gorgeous land, which includes the famous hill and "ledge" that I'm always photographing and writing about. He brought in his own excavating equipment and put in what Ken describes as "a $100,000 road."

We hiked this road on Sunday morning and surveyed the damage. At first Ken insisted that this byway could not possibly be a driveway because of all the money put into its construction. The equipment tore apart an entire hillside and made this incredibly wide, winding road that leads to a huge lot which appears more than large enough to hold a trophy Mcmansion.

As if that were not obscene enough, the road winds beyond the house, farther up the hill, to the very edge of the ledge that has the amazing view. His entire acreage has been ripped apart, literally. The hillside, as the photos show, was partially destroyed. It's unbelievable to me, but somehow this orchard owner bought I don't know how many acres and managed to tear it all apart.

What is so mind boggling about this behavior is that he did this in the Adirondack Park, a place that has been dedicated to wilderness preservation since the 1890s. Ken and I deliberately did not build a house here because we did not want to destroy any more of the land or squander any of its resources. People in our neck of the woods, even those with money, build cabins and leave the land wild.

He'd better hope he's a weekender because I don't have a clue who'll be friends with him. When I said this to Ken, he looked as though he was going to start naming people who are in this guy's league. His mouth hung open a while, but no names came out. He couldn't do it. Could the orchard guy be among the first of a new breed here? Is he winging in on the heels of the massive development that is being planned for Gore Mountain and North Creek? You know the kind: trailside chalets, a 300-room hotel, an equestrian center, loads of shops and manicure parlors.

Pondering what could be our last visit to the ledge
Ken and I hiked this huge scar all the way to the ledge. The bulldozer went to the very edge of the edge. No, don't tell me--are you thinking what I was thinking at that moment?

2006-08-03T18:00:00.000-04:00

The heat has finally broken. I can't believe how bothered I was. A large part of the difficulty was that if it was too hot to safari, I wanted to be upstairs in my office working. But it was unbearable lots of the time up there, and the rest of the time, I just put a fan on and sweated it out. An air conditioner upstairs? I hate to dedicate a window to it, I hate to "waste" the energy, but maybe next year. Working in the living room is not productive. It's just not a work room. I look out to the mountains, read what's on the coffee table, walk to the kitchen to get tea and limeade, fall asleep on the couch...oh, well.

One positive about the heat: the tomatoes, zucchini, summer squash, cucumbers, and peppers are actually ripening! I even have a red tomato on the vine, and lots of ripe grape tomatoes. (This after Ann told me that tomatoes and peppers just don't ripen up here: I think she forgot to take global warming into account.) Last night I feasted on zucchini and summer squash and they were so tender. I heartily recommend growing them in large pots. And, for me, it's so much fun to have grown them from seeds.

Since the business has been very quiet, I've been improvising. Brainstorming lots of related work that I can do that will introduce more people to the business and get Adirondack Safaris better known. I hope it's going to work out that I can lead a series of "Autumn Leaves" after-school workshops at the Adirondack Lakes Center for the Arts in Blue Mountain Lake in September and October. I have done all kinds of art projects with leaves in my life, and I think it will be really fun for kids.

And I'm in the midst of putting together a series of wilderness hikes "For Women Only" in August, and again in September. Only problem, I have to pay to advertise them, and I've overspent the marketing budget again and again.

I just can't help posting puppy pictures.
Gracie and her eleven puppies are continuing to do well--go Gracie!

No, Ken and I are not getting one. We're waiting for the day when Gracie and Hudson, the LaBars' yellow Lab, have puppies. I want a mellow yellow little girl pup.

2006-08-01T11:15:00.000-04:00

News flash: Gracie is much better today, and her pups are happy with her milk supply at the moment!

2006-07-31T18:11:00.000-04:00

I had a great time guiding a nature walk today at Morningside. Everyone in the group came from highly urbanized areas: Brooklyn, Queens, and Huntington, Long Island. They ranged in age from 3 years old to folks in their mid-60s. It's fascinating: The older people thoroughly enjoyed all the activities I planned for the youngest ones. We explored the balsam fir trees, mosses, and mushrooms with 4 of our 5 senses (no tasting!), and everyone got so into it that we went way overtime. A really genial group.

Then I hung out at Randi and Dave's for awhile while Ken worked on Randi's laptop. Earlier in the morning I noticed that Gracie wasn't acting right, but after the walk, I was more concerned. I touched her belly and it felt red hot. It looked to us like Gracie had come down with mastitis. Randi had had one emergency after another with their guests this morning, and she hadn't had a second to sit with Gracie.

Randi immediately went to find Dave while I took Gracie's temp. It was 104.8 degrees. Even considering the fact that a dog's normal temp is over 101 degrees, I know from experience that that's an alarmingly high temp for a dog. Dave came back, Randi called the vet, and Dave zoomed Gracie down to Glens Falls to their vet, an hour's drive away.

Meanwhile, Gracie's puppies were ravenous! She wasn't able to give them much milk this morning, so Randi and I puzzled over what to do. Randi called the vet back. No pet store within an hour's drive, so no, we couldn't get any puppy formula. The vet gave Randi a recipe: evaporated milk, egg yolks, sugar and water.

The puppies were so frustrated with the small hole in the baby bottle. They were crying, crying, give me more, more! So Ken made the hole bigger, and finally, they were happy. It's strange, though. The vet had said give them 2 teaspoonsful at a time. Randi, Ken, and I looked at each other. Did the vet know that these were LABRADOR puppies, not Pekinese pups? They each drank one to two ounces and then they were, at last, quiet and yes, asleep.

For some bizarre reason, I can't get my puppy portrait to upload. I'll try later.

2006-07-28T17:49:00.000-04:00

It rained off an on all day so I spent my time doing business paperwork. No matter how much time I spend on the business, I barely scratch the surface of all there is to do. My website is still in process, and in a few weeks I'll have to add the Fall 2006 content. I'm still writing ads: I'm going to be advertising in the Gore Mountain brochure for 2006-2007 and on their website. I'm psyched about that; their website got 3.1 million hits last season. This week I also made some important contacts with some five-star inns in the area. The concept: Wilderness adventure by day, luxury and pampering by night, complete with massage, jacuzzi, wine bar, and three-course dinner by candlelight. Sounds like fun to me!

I pounded away on the treadmill this afternoon while I read Women with Altitude: Challenging the Adirondack High Peaks in Winter by Carol White. Bushwhacking up the High Peaks in winter, I'm sorry to say, is a bit out of my league. If one can judge by the memoirs of women included in this book, their winter trips were miserably uncomfortable. Climbing with snowshoes, 30 degrees below zero, through whiteouts and ice, hanging on to icy cliff faces, talk about extreme sports! I love the snowshoes part, I love the climbing in winter part, but is it necessary to endanger one's life to have a peak experience in nature?

Here's my idea of a winter adventure: Snowshoe up a decent, marked trail (that has been scouted out previously) to an altitude of 2,500 to 3,000 feet. Carry a tiny camp stove for hot drinks to be prepared on the trail, bring thermoses of hot chocolate and sandwiches. Ooh and aah over coyote and deer tracks and the view of snowy peaks. Be at the end of the trail as the sun sets. Climb into car. Drive home to tea, or to a bar for a wine and conversation.

2006-07-28T17:26:00.000-04:00

News Flash: The Adirondack Safaris link in the sidebar is working again.

2006-07-25T18:28:00.000-04:00

The phone could be ringing more than it is. Might the telephonic quiet be partly due to tourists' attitudes toward bugs? This summer they've been complaining vociferously about the population explosion of our insect friends. Everywhere I go, when I go swimming at Garnet Lake, when I walk down the street in North Creek, at Cafe Sarah's, everyone is upset about the bugs. Is this why I'm always all alone on the trails this summer?

In the spring I was worried about how I'd handle the nasty little things, and actually I'm glad my first summer has been a bad bug summer because whatever comes next will be heaven sent in comparison. I made up my mind that bugs were not going to interfere with my enjoyment of the outdoors, and, with just a few exceptions, they haven't. I have, however, complained about bug dope. Right now I've got some deet-free stuff that is made from a base of olive oil and bee balm (those are not the active ingredients, of course). The stuff is so greasy, it's impossible to keep it from smearing my glasses. But it works. The stuff I had before that smelled so bad that my friends made jokes about it. But it worked!

Gardening on the deck has been a fun challenge. I've got a problem with my zucchini and squash plants--they're producing a profusion of male flowers and not much squash. Something wrong with the soil, I'm sure. The peppers have been great, and I hope to have many more before the season is over. Due to the cool nights here (down sometimes to the high 50s and low 60s), I bring the pepper pots in at night.

Sophie has been miserable in the heat. We put on the a.c., but she's still unhappy. She'd prefer to be gallivanting in the outdoors, but, with the exception of the very early morning, it's just too hot for her.

Starting a business has been an enormous challenge, I've found. I keep going, consulting experts and reading alot, but much of it is trial and error, and I'm still in the error phase. I freeze up with the technical stuff. I'm still trying to understand my credit card processing company's software. Complicated!!

In the good news arena, I think I'm going to be guiding the guests of a well-known inn in the area in the future--probably in the fall, and I'm looking forward to that.

2006-07-19T18:16:00.000-04:00

It may take days before I can adequately describe the hike I went on today. On days I don't have clients, I seek out new trails in the hopes of finding ones that will excite my customers. Today I hiked from Garnet Lake to Round Pond and was dismally disappointed in the trail. It's a shame--it must have been beautiful at one time, but, oh, it was a horror! I have never seen so many down trees blocking a trail in my life. A mile in took me so long, I nearly turned around and went home. But I wanted to see what would happen if I made it to Round Pond. And what happened was more of the same. There was no let up in the level of difficulty. It was worse than bushwhacking! The trail was marked only about once every half mile, which was terribly difficult because everything was so overgrown.

When I arrived at Round Pond, I should have been pleased, but I wasn't. I realized I'd rather walk five miles than to go back the way I came. So I bushwhacked from the south end of Round Pond to the north end and picked up another trail there that led me out eventually to Garnet Lake Road South in Thurman. Fortunately this worked out, but I had to walk miles and miles farther than I intended to.

This hike will not be appearing as a safari. End of story.

Yesterday I dropped my brochures off at the LaBars in Minerva at Morningside Camps and Cottages. Dave told me that Gracie, their black lab, had her puppies on Sunday. I felt like racing the car down to their house to see. And here they are!!

I sat mesmerized for more than an hour, watching them, just two days old shove and push and move their bodies to reach a nipple. Amazing. Two days old.

2006-07-17T18:09:00.000-04:00

The brochures have arrived! They look beautiful; Terry's design and Carl Heilman II's and Stephanie Leonard's photos are so crystal clear, so well done, I'm really happy I made myself have the patience to do the job right. They came at 5 pm Friday--I distributed them to just a few places Saturday, and waited until today, Monday, to deliver most of them, when the owners and managers of hotels, tourist attractions, and stores were back at work.

Bringing them places turned out to be a fun time for me because people were receptive and intersted in Adironack Safaris, wanting to know more. Karma must've been just right because I didn't run into a single hostile individual. I came home tired but excited about the future of the business.

The weekend was a welcome break. I spent all day gardening on Friday and got a lot accomplished. My zucchini and summer squash plants are sprouting squashes, the pepper plants and tomatoes are going gangbusters--actually, there isn't any plant that's not doing well, except perhaps the Brandywine heirloom tomato plant, which I have had no success with at all. Over the spring, I planted five different pots of Brandwine, with the result that only one looked halfway decent, and it is none too happy. I don't think I'll try Brandywine again.

Saturday, as I've discussed on the Adirondack Safaris blog, was spent at the Adirondack Museum in Blue Mountain Lake, and Sunday Ken and I drove the car four miles to paradise.

Four miles from our home is a lake surrounded by mountains that people around here like for paddling and swimming. About a third of it has cabins along the shore, but the rest is wild New York State land. From the road it doesn't look like much, but from the water it is stunning. Sunday was mighty hot, but there were a few cooling breezes out in our boats. I spent my time in the pickerel weed along the shore hunting for dragonflies. Ken found some shade and vegged out for a while. I tell you, it was such a perfect day and so much fun that I vowed to return as soon as I could.

2006-07-11T21:19:00.000-04:00

While I wait for the infernal printer in Plattsburgh to get his act together and do my brochures (the latest story from my designer is that the printer's computer and printer are not communicating at the moment), I'm hiking lots of new trails, with the hopes of adding a few to the safaris I offer my clients.

The weather has been great, which means it hasn't rained for quite a stretch. Temperatures have run from the high seventies to low eighties each day, which has been feeling hot on days I'm climbing a mountain in the sun with a pack on my back. I've been getting out everyday because I know we'll hit a heat wave soon when I won't be able to explore.

When I'm not hiking, and not examining wildflowers, trees, mosses, and other plants, I'm working on the business, often dealing with advertising and financial issues. On a good day, though, I chafe at these chores, and wish I could confine them to rainy days.

I have been sorry for months that I've been unable to find the time or make the time to write. Yeah, I write the blogs, which is writing of a kind, but when I say I want more time and mental space to write, I mean fiction or one of my nonfiction projects. I also wish I were writing in my journal--there's so much about my life, the people I meet, and the things that happen that are just not blog material.

As far as the gardening goes, the incredible wet weather of late June made me glad that I didn't start a vegetable garden out back. The entire area is still sopping wet. What I have, however, is a garden on the deck. I have 5 tomato plants (four different varieties I grew from seed), summer squash, zucchini, two varieties of sweet red peppers, cucumbers, peas (gone now), lettuce, swiss chard, beets, and then I have some eggplant coming along. I love to go out there first thing in the morning to see how each plant has grown or changed since sunset. We have a hummingbird feeder on the deck, too, and it's fun to see them come to feed.

2006-07-09T07:25:00.000-04:00

Today it's time to take a break from hiking and nature study to return to a small pond that Ken and I love. As I've observed, there are two major groups of paddlers: destination paddlers (the ones who feel the need to travel from Point A to Point B) and the dawdling paddlers. Ken and I usually behave as the latter variety. Most times we love to go to a place that's quiet, wild (no houses dotting the shoreline), and full of wildlife. I just sit, often in one place, and study the dragonflies, my dragonfly book in hand. I soak in the sun, ears acutely tuned to bird songs, and observe everything around me. It's absolutely the most relaxing pastime I've ever encountered.

I sometimes sit back in my Hornbeck boat (Lost Pond boat is its actual name) and read a book. This past September I read a book in Dragonfly Cove on Minerva Lake that transformed me and made me know I had to live in the North Country. I'm sure I must have mentioned the book last year, but for new readers, I read Bill McKibben's Wandering Home: A Long Walk across America's Most Hopeful Landscape, Vermont's Champlain Valley and New York's Adirondacks.

2006-06-21T18:06:00.000-04:00

June has been a huge improvement over the non-stop raininess of May, and I've been dividing my time between the business aspects of Adirondack Safaris and the hiking and nature study aspects of the enterprise. If you follow the link to the website (which is not yet complete), you'll see that I have a blog over there named (you guessed it, what else?) Adirondack Safaris: Nature Up Close and Personal.

I definitely hope to keep both blogs going. The Adirondack Safaris blog I need to update at least every other day and it will be strictly about nature subjects in the Adirondacks and a few Adirondack Safaris promotional discussions. Adirondack High, on the other hand, will continue to be my personal blog about life in the North Country. Note: All Adirondack High readers will be able to read Adirondack Safaris, but I will not be providing a link to Adirondack High from my Adirondack Safaris business blog. Of course, readers of Adirondack Safaris searching for Adirondack blogs on the Blogger search engine will find Adirondack High, but that's okay, it won't be many. And still, Adirondack High has never been *really, really* personal. I save all that for my journal, which I never seem to have time for anymore.

Life has been good, but the major raincloud hanging over everything is that the brochures and business cards have been sitting at the printer for just over three weeks. According to my designer, the printer has been overloaded with graduation stuff. "Yeah, so what?" I say. I'm a little more mollified now because I just heard from the designer that the printer called him to say the proof will be ready for me to examine soon. In the meantime, Fourth of July weekend is just a little over a week away and it looks as though I'll need to do a decent-sized local newspaper ad. That I'll work on tomorrow.

2006-06-03T20:36:00.000-04:00

My first birthday in the Adirondacks, and it seems I’ve been celebrating for days. I’ve been reborn here. I realize that at least some of the rejoicing means I’m still in the honeymoon phase of a new life in the North Country.

The weather of the past week was difficult. Hot and steamy with intermittent thunderstorms, and black flies by the swarms. I’d go out with Sophie in the early morning and it was hard to see because my glasses kept fogging, and viewing with binoculars—forget it. Even so, I’m thrilled by the abundance of butterflies, which has sent me running to the bookstore for a butterfly guide. Dragonflies are now appearing as well, and I love them equally. I need a butterfly net, only to capture them for a few brief moments for identification and study. Actually, I need several nets, so that my young clients can study them, too.

After weeks of searching for pink lady’s slippers, I was walking aimlessly by the garage, trying to get Sophie back in the house, when I nearly tripped on several. I couldn’t believe it—so close to the house. Since then I’ve found some nearby on my favorite trails.

My brochure for Adirondack Safaris is at the printer’s, as are my business cards. Can’t wait to distribute them. And did I say I passed the exam? I must have. So now I’m a New York State Licensed Guide. All I need is to pay for my liability insurance and I’m ready to go. I joined the Gore Mountain Region Chamber of Commerce recently as well. I’m working with the designer on my new website, but I’ve found writing the text difficult. Part of it is that I’m not sure what I want to emphasize. I think what I need to do is put in some more effort knowing what I do now, and then plan on an update a month after I’m in business when I have a better sense of what I need.

Trail exploration has been on a backburner the past week. Everything is still so incredibly wet. But Mike and I plan to tackle Goodnow Mountain on Tuesday to get our legs in shape. Then I want to climb up Vanderwacker Mountain as soon as possible—perhaps late next week.

In other news, I had a glorious day shopping in Saratoga Springs. Spent lots of time in bookstores making a number of purchases with birthday money. Dropped into my favorite Saratoga wine store (Putnam’s) and bought a couple of bottles for summer entertaining. Made two stops at Starbucks over the course of the day, and then was treated to dinner at the Wine Bar at Friends Lake Inn. Mike, Ken, and I celebrated my birthday with me. I’m so sorry Cookie couldn’t join us, but she is spending this weekend with a number of her fellow teachers on a wine tour in the Finger Lakes region. They have hired a limousine to drive them from winery to winery today. Sounds like lots of fun! Cookie made me the most elegant yet gracefully rustic candle holder from Adirondack black cherry wood. Oh, I adore it! She’s so gifted. Ken, Mike, and I talked and laughed the evening away. Yes, dear readers, I had two glasses of wine in honor of the big day. I started the evening with the smoothest Riesling (Mosel—Germany) and then finished off with the tangy Seven Deadly Zins Zinfandel (California).

I’m at Café Sarah’s where I’m blogging all of this. Once a week I like to go to a place where I can sit and blog and watch traffic go by. Yes, as of Memorial Day, North Creek now has lots of traffic. Sarah’s is busy at all hours. Summer folks are here. Let’s just hope some of them are going to want to go on an Adirondack Safari.

2006-05-20T18:20:00.000-04:00

The new business, Adirondack Safaris, has been keeping me occupied. After the disastrous disappearance of the graphic designer who was working on the logo and brochure, I was pretty despairing at mid-week. But, fortunately, Ann and Pete Hornbeck (of Hornbeck Boats) steered me to Terry Young in Jay, New York, who designed their website. I spoke to him on the phone on Thursday morning, drove up there (160 miles round trip), and met with him for two hours. So far he's designed the brochure cover, and all I can say is, he really gets it. He's also designing a website for me, which I'm creating/writing now.

In wilderness doings, I've been birdwatching all week despite the incredibly miserable weather. Have Muck Boots, will travel. The warbler migration is in full swing now, though I expect it will soon end. Gorgeous, colorful birds! Blackburnian warblers with their brilliant red-orange throats, Magnolia warblers, Nashville warblers, yellowthroats (common but cute nonetheless), ovenbirds (also a warbler, though the name does not suggest it), chestnut-sided warblers, blue-headed vireos, yellow-rumped warblers. It was fun to take Annie out today--she has what it takes to be a birder: patience, stamina, curiosity, and excellent binocular skills. A group I was birding with all noted the song of a scarlet tanager in the distance. I couldn't believe they were going to march on and leave it behind. You mean you're not going to march into this swamp and see this spectacular bird? No, they had seen them before many times and didn't need to. Shucks. I've only seen one once, on Peaks Island, off the coast of Portland, Maine.

I really want to get back to hiking and climbing, but we've had so much rain that the trails are a mess and streams have flooded their banks in places. The black flies and mosquitoes are going to be horrendous. Of course, we're all dying for a sunny day. It's been over ten days.

Forget gardening. The backyard is one gigantic sponge.

2006-05-13T18:08:00.000-04:00

View of our house and land from "The Ledge."
The Licensed Guide Exam was over at 10am this morning. I think I probably passed it, although they did some tricky things with those multiple choice questions. I did a little food shopping, came home, went out with Sophie to do an hour of birdwatching (peak warbler migration), and then fell asleep for two hours--the longest nap I've taken in months and months.

Spring has been bursting--the maple leaves have tripled in size over the past two days. Now, with the beech and birch leaves out, the woods are filling up, and all the empty spaces of winter and early spring are disappearing. Dismal weather, though.

I'm eager to write a longer post, but have got to cook the dinner. Tomorrow we are going out with friends to the Black Mountain to celebrate Dogmother's Day, so no kitchen duties for me. Too bad Sophie and our friends' three Newfies can't join us at the table. If only we were in Italy, the pups could lay at our feet, though I don't see how a waiter could serve us, not over those gorgeous hunks of Newfie bodies.

2006-05-03T13:19:00.000-04:00

Spring hiking is the top non-work activity these days. Each time I head into the wilderness, I find more and more wildflowers. What's especially exciting is that the majority I've never seen before. Red trillium, a member of the lily family, was the star of yesterday's hike to Fish Ponds. Considered rare in most areas of the Northeast, hundreds of the deep maroon flowers and glossy green foliage can be seen on this trail.

Garden plans are proceeding--The compost bin that Ken built is now in use, full of decaying red maple leaves, pine needles, birch leaves, and pine sawdust. Composted chicken and horse manure will be added next. Good stuff! Ken's almost finished building the cold frame and it is a beauty. The nights are so cold that I'm never going to get a garden going without it. My next task is to locate the topsoil I want to use in the raised beds for the veggie garden. Oh! And I need to get the materials for the electric fence. Then I think we'll be set.

My tomato plants are growing too well, and are way ahead of schedule. This is a huge problem because the best ones need to be transplanted into big pots right now and our climate is nowhere near ready for them. There aren't many at this point and more are on the way, so if disaster strikes all is not lost. The tomatoes are under lights in the furnace room at this point, and I bring them out into the sunroom on warm days. But where do I put them for the next five weeks if they're in large pots? Help!

The biz is moving forward--The photo shoot for the brochure is scheduled for next week and I'm busy writing the text. I'm studying for my exam to become a New York State Licensed Guide in hiking, which will take place on Saturday, May 13. I'll be glad when that's over. I've fulfilled all the other requirements.

Ken and I saw the movie Capote last weekend, and we loved it. I want to see it again and again, there was that much depth to it. I want to read more of Capote's work and am interested in seeking out a biography.

eGlobal warming is constantly on my mind--is it on yours? Perhaps it's all the books I've read lately. The most recent is the new book Chasing Spring by journalist Bruce Stutz, who last year journeyed across America recording his observations, the research of botanists, biologists, meteorologists, and other scientists, on the phenomenon of the spring season and the impact of climate change upon it.

2006-04-28T18:02:00.000-04:00

Ever try starting a business? The whole process is overwhelming, to say the least. Add to that the fact that everything needs to be ready to go no later than June 10, to take full advantage of the summer season, and you've got craziness. The new biz, Adirondack Safaris, so far has one nearly licensed New York State Guide (that's me, the owner) and one part-time independent contractor who is also a licensed guide. I'm really glad that Mike wants some involvement. He's my ideal of what an Adirondack Safari leader should be: extensive background in education, excellent with people, and a natural with children. A month or so ago, I saw him help a little girl skier out of a rough place. The girl's father was of no use, and the girl was stuck on a steep slope, was sobbing, and unable to get up. Mike zoomed in, asked the dad if he could help, and then gently used his body as a wall for the girl to brace herself against--all done so patiently and completely. The only problem with Mike is that he's in demand as a kayaking and canoeing guide all on his own. But still, even on occasion, he'd be a tremendous asset to the business.

This week I finally found a graphics designer and illustrator to help me with the logo, business card, and brochure. It was a bit of a search until I found someone who is on the right wavelength. I think he's a good match with what I've got in mind. The photographer I have a lot of confidence in. Stephanie Leonard is the photographer at Gore Mountain and is just starting her own business as well, Hudson River Gallery and Framing in North River. We're having a hiking photo shoot with kids, parents, and a few older folks early in May, to get pics for the brochure. Now I need an accountant, liability insurance, and a lawyer to help me write the waiver. And lots more trail study so I can lead families and other folk on these half-day and day-long nature adventures. Oh, and the Licensed Guide exam on Saturday, May 13. Eeeek!

In other news: Spring is coming and is sort of here, except that it keeps dropping into the 20s at night. No black flies yet, but they'll be here anyday. Warbler migration is just starting, which makes woods walks exciting. And wildflowers: So far trillium and yellow wood violets.

Sophie is itching to go run in the yard, so I, too, must hustle off.

2006-04-13T17:47:00.000-04:00

I didn't intend for there to be blog silence this week, but the juggling I'm doing is interfering with my leisure activities. As mentioned in previous posts, I am moving toward starting a business, and this week I ran into several obstacles that I wasn't expecting.

First of all, the business: I'm calling it Adirondack Safaris, and I am going to provide half-day and day-long nature adventures for individuals and families of all ages, including those with very young children. The woman who runs the office for the Gore Mountain Region Chamber of Commerce said that there is a huge need for activities suitable for young families, in particular. They can't go whitewater rafting, high peak mountain climbing, rock climbing, or do much in the way of paddling. That's terrific, because I have lots of easy trails and nature activities for young children to enjoy with their parents. Then again, I also have lots of hiking and climbing opportunities I can present to families with older children and teens, as well as birdwatching and wildflower explorations for people with those interests.

My obstacle, which seemed monstrous last night, is that the State of New York requires that I become a New York State Licensed Guide in Hiking, in order to lead people into the woodlands. This involves taking 2 Red Cross courses, one dealing with First Aid and CPR, the other dealing with Water Safety. Even though I have no intention of leading people in water sports, because this is the Adirondacks, there is water everywhere, and I guess I have to know what to do if the people I'm guiding get it into their heads to enter the lakes or ponds we come across. I don't have to become a lifeguard, thank goodness.

To be a licensed guide, I also must pass an exam, which has a general section and a special section on hiking. When I was at the library today, Autumn told me that she's a licensed guide and the exam is really easy as long as you know basic skills and how to read topo maps and the like. I'm getting more information, and hopefully I can study and take (and pass!) the exam in May. I need to have a physical exam--I had one recently and I was fine, so now all I need to do is find a New York State doctor who agrees.

So everything looks much rosier than last night when I discovered these requirements. It turns out I can take the entire First Aid and CPR course this Saturday, all day, in Glens Falls. The water safety thing I can do, the Red Cross said, by reading the book and taking a test on it. That sounds simple. So now maybe I can go back to worrying about creating a brochure (It's got to be all-color to compete with all the other tourist brochures 'round here.) and developing a business plan.

The seed planting is continuing and the weather has been so warm, I've been able to take many plants out during the day. I'm waiting anxiously for my peas to germinate; I've never planted them before, so it has me a little nervous.

That's all I the time I have for today; I'll try to blog tomorrow.

2006-04-08T18:35:00.000-04:00

Life is so full, there's so much I want to do everyday. Every morning I make my list and set the priorities and then go like hell all day to squeeze it all in. I did take some leisure time this afternoon to reread a short story I last read in the seventh grade. Jack London's "To Build a Fire" is a story that's been in my mind all winter as I've hiked through the snow. It's a great story, and I enjoyed reading in the book of collected stories and novels that I borrowed from the library how London spent a year in the Yukon in 1897-1898, gathering material for his Yukon stories. He didn't venture far from his cabin or the tavern in Dawson, but lingering over drinks with all kinds of backwoods characters, he gathered all the information he needed to write convincingly about backswoodsmen and the brutal world of winter in the far North.

On a trail near home that I like very much, there is at least eight or nine different kinds of mosses and lichens. Mosses have never interested me, nor have lichens, but the beds of the stuff I've discovered have been so impressive that they've sent me running to the library to seek out more information. I found one moss bed that was as soft as animal fur. I wanted to lie down and take a nap! Do you realize how little information on moss is available? Online there's next to nothing, and there are only a few obscure books in print. In desperation, I ran over to the library and found a huge book, Reader's Digest North American Wildlife, which includes probably eight pages of pictures of mosses and lichens. I think they'll help me identify at least some of what I've found.

If tomorrow is sunnier than it's been, I'll go for a hike up to Nate's Pond. At least I hope I will. It's a climb, but not out of our ability. I'm a bit worried about taking Sophie up there, though. Today, we spotted a mink climbing down a big tree bordering a swampy area, and Sophie tore after it. My "danger, danger" voice that usually sends her running back to me did not stop her. One thing I don't want is for her to tussle with a member of the weasel family--with their claws and incredible teeth, not to mention the possibility that they might be rabid. Yikes! This needs to be discussed with Ken--it's hard to climb with her on the leash all the time.

2006-04-06T14:18:00.000-04:00

When I studied the weather forecast for next week, I decided we might as well get the Glens Falls shopping over with while the weather is less than perfect. Warm, sunny days are forecast for the first half of next week, beginning Sunday. So here I am, blogging at Panera Bread in Queensbury (love Panera's free wifi!) right next to Ken's favorite store, Home Depot. He's there, and fortunately, I'm here, waiting for the last leg of our merchandise gathering, when we swarm down upon Price Chopper. The thought of that crammed parking lot and the store's jam-packed shopping aisles makes me shudder. I wish I could be zombified to help me through the whole thing.

Time to plant peas! I've got three 36" long plastic windowboxes that will hold this spring's pea crop. I've never grown peas before, and I can't wait to see what happens. I'm growing a 2-foot variety that does not need to be trellised. They'll grow right on the deck, away from the awakening woodchucks and other animals.

I bought a container of pansies this morning and paid too much--12 dollars. A note to myself: Start the seeds indoors next February and grow lots. One container barely satisfies my thirst for them; in the coldest, rainiest spring weather, they manage to thrive and look lush and colorful.

These days my thoughts are full of garden plans--Ken and I want to plant a sugar maple tree, a large container of Concord grape vines, four blueberry plants (in containers on the deck that does not have stairs because of the bears), and maybe some strawberries, in addition to our vegetables. Lots of hard work ahead!

My brainstorming activity is also channeled toward developing plans for my new business. I'm just starting to devote regular time each day to laying the groundwork and research.

2006-04-05T17:41:00.000-04:00

Since we moved to the Adirondacks, I've been plagued by a ravenous appetite. In Boston, my body became hungry, but I wouldn't say I had much of an appetite; in other words, food didn't turn me on, with the possible exception of summer berries. But here, food not only tastes wonderful, but I'm hungry nearly all the time. Today it made me crazy, and I decided I've just got to allow myself to eat more because I can't stand it!

I've just finished reading a fascinating new book. Its strongest point is that it's a soup-to-nuts overview of the earth's changing climate and global warming. Australian scientist Tim Flannery's The Weather Makers: How Man is Changing the Climate and What It Means for Life on Earth is a must read, for the person who knows little about the subject, and especially for those (like me) who think they know everything about global warming and climate change. We've just got to make our politicians and other leaders wake up, because thousands of scientists say that we are approaching a threshold, perhaps beginning as early as 2010, when it may become too late to reverse disastrous consequences for our planet. The book is full of science, simply explained, and backed up with dozens of pages of footnotes.

Tomorrow we were thinking of going to the "big" city, Glens Falls, but I'm so tired I'm thinking I'd rather go for a hike (I thought you said you were tired?) and write and read the rest of the day.

2006-04-04T18:36:00.000-04:00

A snowy day and a chilly night. We're due to go down into the twenties tonight, which means that early tomorrow morning, the mud on the roads will be frozen and will stay off of Sophie's feet and tummy.

Yesterday we tackled the "mountain" I've nicknamed Bramble Ridge. Two weeks ago we climbed it, but because I was expecting a phone call, we didn't have time to reach the top. So up again we went. Once again, I became so ensnared in the brambles, all I wanted to do was shout, "Help me!" With an even thicker grove of brambles ahead, there was nothing to do but tack south and climb up where there were more trees and fewer brambles. Only problem, the trees obscured the view.

When Sophie and I got to the top (what a speedy mountain goat that dog is!), I was hoping to see down the western side, but no! There was a 100 foot drop followed by a level plain and then another 200-300 foot incline of pure brambles. Forget that! Soph and I retraced our steps and headed for home. When I got there, I checked the US Geological Survey topo map and found that the ridge we climbed was 2,639 feet and the one that we chose not to tackle was nearly 2900. The topmost peak of Eleventh Mountain is only 3000 feet. That's where we'll head next, once the land dries out. The ground is incredibly muddy now.

As I'm writing this, a guy in an ATV has been bombing up and down our road. I wish I could understand what the point is. I mean, what is so much fun about riding an ATV? It's bumpy as hell, reeks of gasoline vapors, obliterates all sound, I don't get it and I don't think I ever will.

I think I have an idea for a tourist-oriented summertime business. I'm more compelled by the prospect of running my own operation than working for other people, although I fully intend to work at Gore next winter. I have the spring to explore the possibility and help Ken with marketing ideas for his business. Things are in such a pre-formative stage that I can't even blog about it yet, but the seed has been planted.

2006-04-03T08:12:00.000-04:00

We're moving into a period of unsettled weather, it seems, beginning this afternoon. After two weeks of unbeatable sunshine and warm temps, the foul stuff will be a shock to the system. The weather people are talking 2 to 4 inches of snow for us tomorrow. I'm glad I didn't put my cross-country skis away.

On Saturday afternoon I picked up the local paper and was rivetted by an article discussing an upcoming "Quilts as Art" exhibit in North Creek, to be presented by members of the Adirondack Regional Textile Artists Alliance. The opening, the paper said, was scheduled for 5 p.m. Saturday. I glanced at my watch, dropped everything, and rushed out to the car. I'm fascinated by fabric art and fabric artists, although I haven't picked up an artistic needle and thread in decades.

The exhibit did not disappoint. I stood in awe before each piece, and was so inspired by the textures, the designs, the quilted lines, and most of all, the colors and patterns! I was in heaven. But there were no people to view these wonders! Less than a handful of people attended the opening--there were more exhibitors than viewers. As a result, I had the chance to talk to many of the artists. Ann (not to be confused with Annie, who, by the way, also adores fabric art) was there and I was so glad because her quilts are amazing. Before I bumped into Ann, I kept thinking I had to call her to tell her to rush over. It was fun to view the exhibit with her and to hear her thoughts on each piece. I'm going to try to go back with a camera and then telephone the artist to see if I can post a photo here. One exhibitor, Kris Gregson Moss, has a website. Take a peek!

2006-04-01T18:49:00.000-05:00

When I padded down the stairs at six this morning, I was shocked to see a clear expanse of blue sky. The forecast had promised rain. So where was it? According to the weather radar, it was west of us and predicted to move into our area sometime after 9am. So I finished my coffee, dressed in a flash, grabbed the binoculars, and hit the trails with Sophie.

All winter we heard very few birds with the exception of our irrepressible chickadees, but for the last couple of weeks, it’s as if the bird world has come out of hiding. There are birds everywhere, and many of them have songs I’ve never heard before. I know eastern Massachusetts and southern Maine birds really well from many years of birdwatching, but the Adirondacks are proving to be a whole new ball game.

I’m sad to say this, but any serious birdwatching I intend to do will have to be done without Sophie. She doesn’t mean to make noise, but even something as innocuous as her panting disturbs the quiet. One must be absolutely still for long periods of time, and that’s not the canine mien, I’m afraid.

Now it’s half past eleven and I’m blogging while sipping on my second cup at Café Sarah in North Creek. The rain is coming down and the weather has turned colder. It’s the first day of the fishing season here, and it reminds me of my first time fishing on the first day of the season in 1962 when I was eight years old. I had my $4.95 fishing rod and reel purchased from J.M. Fields, a can of worms, and my three best friends with me. We fished below the waterfall at the South Natick Dam on the Charles River (Mass.), and caught probably 10 itsy bitsy perch altogether. It rained just as hard as it’s raining now, and was so cold that my hands tingled. Despite our raincoats and raingear, we got soaked through and came home looking half-drowned. I remember coming home chilled through and devouring at least a dozen graham crackers.

In honor of the day, and my keen interest in frying brook trout I’ve caught myself, I just bought a rod and reel at Braley and Noxon hardware, with help from the store’s #1 fishing expert. Now all I need is some sort of basic instruction. Maybe online? I just hope I can get it together enough to be out there tomorrow morning, hopefully in Kibby Creek out past the back of our land.

2006-03-31T17:48:00.000-05:00

Balmy weather--72 degrees at mid-day! I was playing with all of my seeds (planting some and devising growing strategies for some of the others) when I got a phone call from one of my bosses at Gore informing me that they'd be closed mid-week next week and the following week and would no longer need me.

"Please keep me in mind for next year," I said.

She was quick to reassure me. "Oh, yes, we'll probably be contacting you again sometime in October."

So I'm laid off. And I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to people. When I told Ken this, he reminded me I could drive over on Sunday--that no one would mind if I dropped in to say hello and goodbye.

Being out of work feels so strange. I started working there two weeks after we moved in, on January 1st. In a way, I've never had seven free days a week since we've lived here, unless you count the peculiar and chaotic days unpacking boxes. I told Ken I'd start to look for another job next week. "Don't be in too much of a hurry," he said. "You seem tired. Why don't you take some time off?"

But I'm worried about all the other laid-off people getting a job that might be perfect for me. Hmmm... I'll think about it and lay out a game plan in the next few days.

Yesterday Ken and I drove north to Essex, New York, to take the ferry across Lake Champlain to Charlotte, Vermont, the wee road trip we planned for our 20th anniversary. We drove to Vergennes, and then to Middlebury, and had a nice lunch there, but you know what? Vermont has become over-populated and the whole day was kind of disappointing. Of course late March is not Vermont's most beautiful time, the fields being a sea of brown grasses, but I couldn't even find a decent cup of coffee, even after going several places. I'm sounding cranky now; but this part of Vermont has changed so much. I suppose it's spillover urban sprawl from Burlington that's the culprit. I don't think we'll be rushing back.

This morning Sophie and I found another new trail that led us after a distance to another abandoned house, complete with a red barn. So curious--these sad, strange houses that appear in the middle of the woods. I'm going to have to ask people about the ones I've found recently.

Sophie found a huge mudhole to jump into. Farther on, I got her to swim in a lovely creek with rushing water. It cooled her off and was very cleansing.

Tomorrow rain is forecast, but after our run of incredible weather, I guess we're due. I'd love to immerse myself in some fiction writing. Must do!

2006-03-29T17:53:00.000-05:00

Everything at Gore is winding down, but there's still plenty of skiing left, especially on top of the mountain. Even so, there's less and less for me to do, and I spend my days helping customers and finding ways to keep myself from becoming bored. I've got a few writing projects I'm working on, including "Northwoods Knowledge" pieces on the Underground Railroad in the Gore Mountain region and an article on Mathew Brady, the famous Civil War photographer, who was born in Johnsburg. I'm also squirreling away ideas and preliminary work for some fiction I'm working on. There's plenty to occupy me.

I've enjoyed working at Gore and I do hope I can return next year, when I hope I'll be able to get Ken to have some skiing lessons with Gore's adaptive skiing instructors. I hope to get more instruction myself.

Yesterday and today were perfect days weatherwise. Warm and brilliantly sunny, with temperatures in the mid-fifties. Tomorrow promises more of the same, a day when Ken and I are taking off for Vermont. We're going to take a ferry to Charlotte, Vermont, and then drive south to Middlebury, where there will be plenty of opportunity to dine and shop for items that we can't get here. There's supposed to be a great natural foods coop there, which I plan to spend some time in. The weather is supposed to be sunny and in the low 60s there tomorrow.

With my day off yesterday, Sophie and I did some serious hiking. We climbed a small mountain nearby, and it was exciting to climb and climb and reach the top. The brambles at the top were difficult for me to manage, though Sophie, with her thick fur coat, sailed through and wondered why I was being so slow. Then, in the afternoon, we both convinced Ken to hike up to the ledge on the knoll with us. Because there was no wind yesterday, we were able to sit at the ledge and soak in the sun while viewing the mountains before us. I was glad Ken pushed himself to do it, and with two walking sticks, one in each hand, he made it up there just fine.

After seeing no deer all winter, they are suddenly everywhere! Where were they all this time? It's a mystery to me, but they're all over now, and we see them frequently. Deer are not new to us, as we had plenty of them in Canton. Sophie is only mildly interested in them, much preferring to carry large birch and oak logs. She's always been very stick-oriented.

2006-03-27T18:12:00.000-05:00

Garden crisis: I have confirmed the awful fact that we are living in Zone 3. Is it okay to scream now? For a person who was last gardening in Zone 6, it came as an awful shock when I read in the new book Gardens Adirondack Style by Janet Loughry that the hamlet closest to us, which lies far below us, is Zone 3. This climate dilemma is all due to the elevation. There are areas at our latitude in the ADK that are Zone 4, but they’re not as high as we are. So I asked Ken, “Did you ever check the GPS to find our elevation?” He nodded. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. We’re at about 1750 feet." Gulp.

Weeks ago I figured we couldn’t be more than 1600 feet, based on the elevations of places around us. But 1750? This means our summertime nights will be all the cooler. This means we absolutely must add the complication of raised beds, row covers, and all that extra expense and work. I told Ken to get ready for another garden pow-wow. More to follow.

Sophie and I have discovered a new trail. The nicest thing about it is that it’s close to the house, isn’t difficult to navigate, and takes just a little over twenty minutes if we walk briskly. That’s all the time I have for a walk before leaving for work at 7:15 a.m.

It’s a wooded walk that winds along next to the bog and then loops around through the woods until it ends on the property of a small two-story abandoned house, complete with worn-out asbestos shingles. According to neighbors, the owners suddenly stopped spending time up here about eight to ten years ago and left the house just as it sits. Through the open windows, kitchen curtains flutter in the north wind, and behind them is an antique refrigerator. A car that dates back to the days just before World War II languishes in the woods adjoining the meadow. I haven’t investigated the car or the house up close because I don’t want Sophie to get cut on broken glass that might be lying near them. Someday I’ll have to walk alone so I can get a closer look. I’m fascinated by abandoned houses. There’s a mystique about them; I think they offer up the suggestion of past lives and departed worlds.

On Saturday morning Sophie and I took a delicious ramble. We hopped on the trail out the back of the house and walked to the southeast. I forced my way through a rough section with lots of downed trees, which is easier to do now that there is less snow in the woods. Once I got beyond the roughness, the trail opened up and soon there were trails going in every direction! I was so amazed—Despite my knee, I had to see where at least one of them went. Sophie and I were outside all morning, and I still don’t know where the trail I followed ends up. The trail network consist of hunting trails evidently. I saw several crude wooden ladders nailed into large trees with hunting platforms on top.

The world was beautiful—the two inches of wet snow that had fallen overnight was melting, and everything was dripping. The moisture was lovely, though—fresh and clean. The forest is slowly awakening.

2006-03-25T07:30:00.000-05:00

The skiing conditions on Thursday were the best I've experienced this year, when skiing is effortless and I feel like I'm soaring down the mountain like an eagle. The company was wonderful, too. Annie's friend Lois came along and she's full of fun as well as being a connisseur (pardon my spelling) of wine, another interest of mine. Annie's friend June also came along. She's a wonder: At age seventy, she goes on adventures all over creation. In a month or so, she's going to be hiking the Grand Canyon and going on a week-long whitewater rafting trip down the Colorado River with her grandchildren. She's a veteran hiker, paddler, and has even built her own log cabin--what an inspiration.

After Thursday's skiing perfection, it was only natural that I decided to forget about everything but skiing again on Friday. But the conditions were a huge disappointment. The lower third of the mountain was pure slush and, to my mind, nearly impossible to ski on. The upper third was decent and fortunately there are plenty of trails to ski on up there. I ran into Mike (the guy I met on Tuesday) and we had a cup of coffee up on the second floor of the Saddle Lodge, looking out on the High Peaks. Gosh, it was beautiful--we spent lots of time just sitting there discussing the view. Then Mike suggested we ski the North Side, which stays colder and provides better spring skiing when the temperatures are above freezing. He was right; conditions were very good over there. Gore Mountain amazes me; I've been skiing it all winter and I still haven't skiied every trail and am still not familiar with several areas of it.

Finally I realized that my legs had had enough; my thigh muscles were tired. At the time I understood this, however, I had miles of skiing ahead of me before I'd be safely back at the base lodge. So we devised our route to get down, and somehow or other, on a descent that was not at all steep, something happened (I know not what) and the impact ejected me from my skis and I went flying. The conclusion of this collision with Mother Earth resulted in what is commonly referred to up here as "a garage sale." My skis were sprawled out uphill from me and my poles were downhill. I had no idea of any of this because I landed on both knees and I was lying on the slope, my head down, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. Because Mike had skiied down ahead of me, he wasn't around to see the indignity of the whole thing. But a nice guy came by and asked if I were okay. I remember saying with all the gusto I could muster at that moment, "Oh, yes, absolutely!" Then he said, "Are you sure you're okay?" And I looked up at him and sat up and said, "Thank you so much for stopping--I'm really fine," when inside I was silently praying, "Please, please, don't call the ski patrol, especially since I know the guys who patrol this area and it would be unbearably embarrassing."

Then as I tried desperately to collect my wits, another guy swooped down beside me and asked if I needed help. I assured him no, I was just getting up. Then he said, "Judith, hi! Let me help you up." I looked up and it was Cork, Annie's colleague, looking so handsome in his blue ski hat (and blue eyes!) that I was immediately distracted from my pain. Talk about a white knight in shining armor--Cork was it at that moment. With his help, I got up, got back into my skis, chatted a minute or two and skiied on down to catch up with Mike.

I got down the mountain all right, but not without snowplowing my way through the worst of the slush. The rest of the day, however, I did not feel like myself. It wasn't the pain so much as the fact that I had definitely been knocked silly. So when it got to be time for me to cook dinner, I stood in the kitchen looking down at the shrimp before me, and realized there was no way I could cook a meal. I went out to the garage where Ken was putting the final touches on the two-tier indoor growing system. We agreed to go to Black Mountain for a burger, and I declare the good will and jovial atmosphere of the place, a glass of wine, and a huge, juicy cheeseburger and salad made me feel much better. Today I'm fine--very tired, perhaps, and coping with a number of aches and pains, but okay.

Today I plant seeds! And I'll go hiking with Sophie in the two inches of snow that fell overnight, which turned my fields and woods into a winter wonderland.

2006-03-23T07:05:00.000-05:00

Last evening Ken and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary at Black Mountain. We were treated to a drink on the house, and had a delicious meal in the choicest spot adjoining the roaring hearth. We had fun reminiscing about some of our adventures and misadventures over the past two decades; then we focused on our thoughts for home improvements. The in-ground pool that sits out back is a big question mark. The previous owners haven't operated the pool in a number of years, mostly because they were spending their time at their house in Vermont, and although the pool itself looks as though it's in good condition, the landscaping around it looks terribly neglected. I'm not sure how difficult it will be for the pool people to get the thing running again. I don't think we should sink a lot of money into it this year, with the house in Canton still sitting unsold.

I'm off for a morning of skiing: Annie has pulled together a whole group of people to ski together. I'm definitely ready for it after all the practice I had on Tuesday. By the end of the day, I was managing the steepest pitches on the intermediate trails with aplomb. So far the weather is holding and has not been as warm as originally forecast for this week, and predictions of rain have been changed to snow showers. Yay.

2006-03-22T05:53:00.000-05:00

Gore Mountain is therapeutic: Due to the exceptionally good skiing yesterday, I skiied all day long, and my knee not only did not hurt at all, by late afternoon I had no pain and was pain-free all evening. I find this astounding, it's so counter-intuitive. I'm not questioning it, though. Tomorrow by hook or by crook I'll be back up there.

I skiied with a fascinating older gentleman I met on the chairlift. He was in line behind me, so to better survive the northwest winds on the lift, I asked him if he would like to share a ride up with me, because I've noticed that it's nowhere near as cold if you have someone to talk to.

What followed was a day packed with information about the our region of the Adirondacks. He's a die-hard paddler and is a specialist in the water trails of New York State and New England. (A water trail is a route that combines both water passage and hiking between bodies of water.) He's currently involved in a trip that goes from Saranac Lake to some lake or pond in the Allagash wilderness in Maine. By currently involved, I mean that one doesn't do the trip from start to finish all in one stretch. People generally take trips going section by section over a longer period of time.

His wife sounds so interesting, too. She's a high school biology teacher, who spent the fall semester on sabbatical studying polar bears in Churchill, Alaska.

Gotta run. Work today.

2006-03-21T07:34:00.000-05:00

I'm amazed by the brilliant light that pours into our living room in the early mornings now. It's a wonderful place to sip coffee and wake up.

My days are extremely busy now, and I've found it impossible to blog without neglecting something essential. After a two-month wait, Ken's business cards and brochures are finally ready, and I've been occupied delivering them to everyone I know as well as to local businesses. At work, I'm zooming ahead on several writing projects, in addition to my regular tasks. I'm desperately trying to find blocks of time to do garden research and begin projects in that department. And, on top of all of this, I'm still trying to grab a few hours to enjoy what's left of the ski season.

Despite everything, I am skiing at Gore today. I need the fun, the exercise, and the space away from all my responsibilities. And, as previously noted, it does not hurt my darn knee.

I'm so glad that Ken is having a blast building the huge two-tier plant stand that will start many dozens of seedlings and later provide a top-notch indoor growing system. As soon as he's done with that, I hope he can quickly hammer together a compost bin so that I can begin hauling composted manure and leaves over here.

Mom and Uncle Connie are both improving, I'm happy to say, and thanks to everyone for their kind thoughts and best wishes.

My one regret now is that I have absolutely no time to read. In the evening, we're both so tired, we're barely able to read a paragraph before sleep consumes us.

2006-03-17T18:03:00.000-05:00

Life has been so full (and good) the past two days that I don't have the energy to blog a decent entry. I will say, however, that Annie and I went downhill skiing today and it was delightful. The brilliant sunshine helped make up for the fact that the windchill was once again below zero. On the super-chilly chairlift, the one that carries me to my favorite trails, I couldn't stop shivering despite all the clothing I was wearing. But all that was soon forgotten as we glided down the mountain.

I think I've got to ski again tomorrow, early though, before the Saturday crowd piles in. It fascinates me that my poor knee, the one I smashed at Garnet Hill, does not pain me at all while downhill skiing. Not even the slightest twinge after a full three hours of skiing. But 25 minutes of walking makes it hurt all right.

I have more to say, but there's so much to do just at the moment, and so little time to do it in.

2006-03-15T18:07:00.000-05:00

Snow has been falling since yesterday morning. We have, perhaps, four inches of the stuff here at the house. It's cold again and thoughts naturally turn to skiing. Garnet Hill is not open today, and it seems from their website they won't open again until Friday. Gore is going full tilt and I contemplate taking a few runs. There are two problems, however.

The first is the deplorable state of our mountain road. Even the people who have lived here since forever say it's the worst they've ever seen it. Cavernous ruts, which are now frozen solid overnight, but deliver mud during the day. Actually, we stayed below freezing all day today, which made getting up and down much easier. But my minivan is totally out of commission for the present and foreseeable future. Ken thinks I should take it down the road tomorrow morning before any thawing can take place and try to find someone nearby who will rent me parking space. I think that's the only reasonable thing to do. The way my family affairs stand, I might be called to Massachusetts at any moment, so having transportation is crucial. And this road situation is likely to remain a problem until late May, depending on the weather. Not to mention the fact that I hate feeling that I'm stuck at the house. Ken has to go back to Olmstedville on a job, so I'm without a car unless I do something. The only problem is, after skiing tomorrow, I'll have to hike up the road, which is a very long, steep climb, as I've noted in the past.

Which brings me to the second problem. I hate to mention physical infirmities, but since that "wicked wipe-out" at Garnet Hill two weeks ago, my knee has been problematic. The funny thing is, it was not too bad until I drove the five plus hours to Massachusetts. Since that road trip, I've been having pain. On the other hand, if I don't ski now, the season will end without my having tasted the end of it. So, if I'm gung ho tomorrow, I'll do a couple of runs, and then come home. In between runs, I'll hang out in the Saddle Lodge, resting and enjoying the ambiance.

The other must-do tomorrow is a garden planning meeting with Ken. I'm trying to enlist him to help with the construction of a number of items I need to get this vegetable garden underway. I'm praying he'll feel like building a two-tier florescent light stand that will enable me to grow lots of seedlings indoors. He's already agreed to build a cold frame, which will harden off the plants before they are transplanted into the ground in June. Then, there's the necessity of a compost bin. I'd settle for just a regular old heap of compost, but since it will contain lots of horse manure, and since that's Sophie's caviar, we definitely need a bin to keep her snout out of it. Friday, we're going to Glens Falls to purchase some of the materials we need for these projects.

I do hope that spring is not in too much of a hurry to come up here because I'm still enjoying the winter.

2006-03-13T17:55:00.000-05:00

I feel foolish blogging today because I believe I have nothing to say. I mean, nothing has happened. Just rain, lots of fog, dismal weather, and, oh, I almost forgot, work.

Most people don't like to ski in the rain, but a few will ski no matter what.

Yes, there's still plenty of snow, especially up top.

But we're expected to have another inch of rain tonight before we plunge into the deep freeze tomorrow afternoon and night.

Our road has ruts on the hilly sections like you would not believe. So far Black Bear (what we've named the black Toyota Tundra) has made it through, but for how much longer I'm not sure, the way the road is going.

Tomorrow Ken has a job in Olmstedville, and I have no wheels, so I think I'll stay home and write. I do love writing when the house is quiet.

Can anything save this ski season? It's only March 13, by no means the end of the winter season here. Can't we have just one good old-fashioned snowstorm?

2006-03-11T20:23:00.000-05:00

I’m blogging from Café Sarah’s in North Creek this Saturday noontime. I’m looking out on Main Street and it’s spring! Well, at least for today. The mind naturally runs to garden plans, fishing, and whitewater kayaking. Seeing as how I am a lover of quiet water paddling, I’m only meditating on whitewater kayaking, not contemplating doing it myself. That kind of thrill I don’t need in my life, not when I have spring skiing, backcountry bushwhacking, and horseback riding on my list of must-dos in the next few weeks.

Today finds me still recuperating from the trip east. I haven’t calmed down one iota from the week away. I jump when I hear the phone, find myself thinking about Uncle Connie and Mom a lot, and hope they’re doing better. According to my brother, Mom is still refusing to have a phone in her room, and without being able to further discuss it with her because of her lack of a phone, I guess I’ll have to keep my communications with her to the mail. At least Uncle Connie is a phone call away, and I can call him everyday.

About fishing: As I’ve mentioned before, my hikes to ponds in the backcountry have made me eager to spend time fishing for brook trout. Since then, I’ve been badgering everyone who might have useful information about trout fishing. My fishing research is yet another reason why the local bars have become such a draw. The night I returned home, I guess it was Thursday night, we went out to Black Mountain Lodge. Beside me sat a young man in his twenties wearing a baseball cap, an earring attached to his right earlobe. “Do you fish?” I asked. (A real dumb question, since every male over the age of three is a fishing nut around here.) That question immediately launched him on a discussion of his recent ice fishing adventures, which was not the direction I had been hoping to lead him.

I finally got him on to openwater trout and bass fishing, and it seems he and his buddies catch trout with just a regular rod and reel from their boats. According to several of my other sources, engaging in fly fishing marks one as an outsider, a flatlander. I’ve also learned that getting set up for fly fishing is expensive. There’s the hip boots, the gear, the flies, not to mention the cost of instruction. I’d love to try it, though. I don’t have a boat suitable for fishing in any month prior to June, when the pond and lake becomes less icy cold. Because I want to fish for trout in April and May, during the sport’s peak months, I’ve got to either fly fish or try a technique that my neighbor Ed told me about. What I would need for the latter: regular rod and reel, flies (which I would need to learn to tie on myself—this requires instruction, I understand), bits of worms, and a stocked creek or stream. He told me to lie on my stomach with my head right up to the water during the absolute worst of the black fly season, cast upstream, and wait.

All that I’d have to do after that is walk home with my catch and get Ken to clean the fish before I fry ‘em in butter after soaking them in a simple breadcrumbs and milk mixture. Incroyable.

2006-03-10T18:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, I heaved a sigh of relief when I sailed past the Lake George exit on the Northway. Hallelujah--back in the Adirondacks again. I left the Boston area after a full day crammed into the morning hours. I visited with Uncle Connie, who rallied for his birthday. When I walked into his hospital room, he was sitting up in a chair, fully dressed. We talked a bit, then he followed with a complete history of Casey's Diner in Natick. If I weren't so exhausted, I'd detail some of the highlights, but Casey's has been a fixture in the life of the men on my father's side of the family. I was amazed that he had the strength to talk to me for that length of time, and it reminded me of similar bursts of energy that Ken's father experienced during his final days, when he visited and chatted with us, just as he had in days past. I hated to leave him.

I visited with Mom, who's still doing fine and getting adjusted to the rehab unit she's on. With my brother visiting just about everyday, I think I left her in good hands.

So, I'm so glad to be home and away from the congestion of Massachusetts. I've been incredibly exhausted all day. I walked Sophie and we visited our neighbors Ed and Cindy who are putting the finishing touches on the vacation home they built together. I'm really impressed by Cindy. I can't imagine being involved in such a huge building project. I like the results, but the thought of the work involved makes me want to find the nearest couch!

2006-03-08T13:59:00.000-05:00

I've been transported to a 21st century version of the Emerald City. I'm at Wellesley College at the new student center, the Lulu Chow Wang Center, otherwise simply known as the Wang Center. It's an architectural embodiment of nirvana, a shangri-la complete with a coffee bistro that makes Starbucks look like a bar in the Bowery. Immaculate, pearl-white computers with internet access open for anyone to use (as if the hundreds and hundreds of computers in the library and instructional buildings are not enough), floor-to-cathedral-ceiling glass walls that overlook the lake (complete with upholstered small booths and windowseats)--come on! What is going on here? I'm troubled by the message of this building. As beautiful as it is, every inch reeks of privilege and elitism. I was also disturbed by the numbers of people who were obviously not students--men in thousand-dollar suits and women dressed to the nines. Would someone tell me what's going on? As an alumna, I'm concerned about the message students take in when they spend time here. I could go on about this ad nauseam, but this blog is not the place. I'm just glad that none of my money ended up here. A college or university is not the place for opulence.

I can't wait to get back home to my mountains and to a different set of values. I'm screaming inside because I just don't want to be in urban sprawl anymore. I don't feel like myself. I'm depressed and exhausted and waiting to get the hell out of here.

Update on my patients: Mom is doing fine. She is moving this afternoon to a rehab unit where physical therapy will begin in earnest tomorrow. Uncle Connie looked just a little bit perkier today. His eyes seemed just a shade brighter, but I don't know if I'm kidding myself or not.

Looks like I'm going to be driving into an ice storm up north tomorrow. Oh, joy. If it gets too bad, I'll find a Comfort Inn or something on the Northway. I'd delay going home a day, but the icy precip. is expected to continue thru Friday night.

2006-03-07T17:13:00.000-05:00

A "just in case" note:
I won't be able to post comments while I'm in Massachusetts since I don't have access to my e-mail here. I'll post them as soon as I get back to the North Country later this week.

2006-03-07T16:51:00.000-05:00

My second post today. I blog therefore I am.

I spent much of today at the hospital. My mother is doing great; it's a relief to see her looking so hearty after all she's been through in the past few days. She's being moved to a rehab place tomorrow, where physical therapy will begin in earnest.

Uncle Connie is faring less well. He has failed considerably since I saw him three to four months ago, before we moved to the Adirondacks. He doesn't seem himself to me. For one thing, he says he's terribly exhausted all the time. He also seems to be withdrawing from life. My cousin says last week that his father was openly saying he wished God would let him go. This is not the Uncle Connie I've known, but is, I realize, a sign that he's entering the final phase of his life. I weep. I can't stand to lose him.

We talked with Uncle C. about his career at U.S. Army Labs in Natick, and how his portrait is hanging in the Hall of Fame there. Uncle Connie said one one thing, "I loved every minute of it." And he did. He retired at 65, the way the government insists you do, but it was a sad day for him.

I will visit him tomorrow and Thursday before I leave to go home, as I will my mom.

I did do one fun thing today. I stopped at the Wine Gallery in Brookline and took advantage of their 25% discount (in effect when you buy a lot). Costs a lot less than what I can get in the ADK.

I'm looking forward to going to my bed in Canton and relaxing with some writing and a book. I also have my itsy-bitsy tv with me, the one that runs on 3 double A batteries. Maybe Nova will be on tonight. I hope so.

2006-03-07T10:19:00.000-05:00

At this moment I’m blogging from my bed at our house in Massachusetts, about eight miles from Boston. This is not where I choose to be, but worry about the health of my family drove me here. My mother fractured her hip and right wrist on Saturday. Later that day, she had partial hip replacement surgery. Based on my phone conversations with her, she’s doing remarkably well, especially considering the fact that she’s 82 now. I’m actually more concerned about my Uncle Connie (he’s 89), who has had more than nine lives already. He’s bleeding internally, but after lots of tests, the doctors don’t know what organ is causing the problem. They’ve decided against exploratory surgery to determine and/or repair the cause, so things look grave. He’s been such a solid, consistent, loving presence over the course of my life that I just want to be near him to wish him well and lend any support I can.

It is so, so strange being back in the urban nexus. I drove down Ponkapoag Rd., I street I've driven down thousands and thousands of times, and this time I was so struck by how many houses there were. One cape after another, all packed tightly together. Not only that--there are cars everywhere, and stores, and people coming out of the walls. I'm in culture shock.

Got to run to the hospital. More later.

2006-03-05T17:52:00.000-05:00

Another cloudless sky on a work day? How can I stand it? My window gazing, all indulged during my lunch break, made me crazy with the desire to be outside. The minute I got home, I took Sophie up the road to watch the setting sun light up Crane Mountain. On the way back, we stopped to play with Zak, Sophie's yellow lab friend. As we returned home, the high peaks to the northeast glowed a light pink and pale orange, all a reflection from the sunset. Amazing.

And, yes, I still want to blog about my reading, but I had a half dozen phone calls to make before dinner, so please stay tuned for a later post.

2006-03-04T18:27:00.000-05:00

A howling wind today but slightly milder temperatures. I believe we maxed out at about 26-27 degrees here at the house. I decided I wouldn't head out to Gore or Garnet Hill but would snowshoe the Siamese Ponds Wilderness area with Sophie. We decided on a relatively easy trail, one that involved no steep mountainous ascent. But it wasn't a cinch, not by any means. We hiked past Chatiemac Lake up the trail that eventually leads to Second Pond, west of Gore Mountain. The snow was so deep; I was amazed. The greater snow depth is because of the site's elevation. Before we stepped foot out of the car, we had climbed and climbed up a steep mountain road for over two miles. I knew we were high because Gore Mountain didn't tower over us. From the west, Gore looks so different; I couldn't tell it was a skiers' mountain at all.

We crossed innumerable brooks and streams, and one that was running full tilt despite the frigid temps we've been having. I made it across going in, but on the way back, I realized I'd never make it across in my snowshoes. I took them off all right, but I still didn't make it across. Squish! One foot went all the way in, and I no longer hike in waterproof boots because I need the foot support of my Trekkers.
No matter, I was less than a mile from the car, and I was warm from the strenous activity.

I wanted so badly to make it all the way to Second Pond, but I didn't like the looks of the sky to the west, over in Indian Lake country. It looked like a squall was materializing. What if I were overtaken by 30 minutes of a furious snowfall? My tracks would fill in and I'd have trouble retracing my steps. I probably needn't have worried, because the trail was so well marked, but still...I'm the cautious type.

When we returned to the car, there was a couple putting on snowshoes and a ferocious English Springer Spaniel that attacked Sophie. Fortunately, the spaniel's teeth, though bared, did not break skin.

Lots of adventures this past week. And back to work tomorrow. Sigh. I hate being cooped up all day in a stuffy, windowless office.

I still want to blog about my reading and writing. Perhaps later? I do hope.

2006-03-03T17:04:00.000-05:00

Garnet Hill was my destination today; it was high time I went all out for cross-country skiing. In general, this winter has been disastrous for the sport in the Adirondacks--just not enough snow, with a few exceptions. Mid-December was great, but, of course, I couldn't ski then while in the midst of moving. The eight inches of a week ago breathed new life into cross-country around here.

I had so much fun today skiing at Garnet Hill. I was amazed by how well groomed the trails are; they're the best of any I've ever skied. Observe the photograph closely--this is one of Garnet Hill's famous grooming cats. Notice the appendages that allow the cat to groove two sets of cross-country ski tracks on every trail.

I warmed up on the beginner loop called Old Faithful and then took a series of intermediate trails down to Thirteenth Lake. I had a wicked wipe-out on the way down and narrowly averted running into a tree. Gosh! Guess what? I tried to make my 1971 wooden Norwegian skis (oh, they're beauties, all right, and the envy of many veteran cross-country skiers) act like my downhill skis, and that simply did not work. I bruised the hell out of my right knee, but otherwise I am still intact. The knee did not hold me back any. After a number of minutes paralyzed by pain while sitting in the snow, I was able to pick up and keep skiing.

The setting of Thirteenth Lake reminded me of Fish Pond. As is the case with Fish Pond, Thirteenth Lake is surrounded by hills that seem to rise right out of the lake. Of course, it's much larger than Fish Pond.

It was frigid today. The high temperature was about 16 degrees, but the windchill was ten below to zero, due to the blustery winds.

Am I too tired to have an adventure tomorrow? I'd love to go back to Garnet Hill, but I'm concerned I'm a bit worn out from the massive amount of energy expended on these trips. I hiked with Sophie 30 minutes in the morning, followed by 2 hours of intense, aerobic cross-country. Whew!

It did cross my mind to head up the trail toward Eleventh Mountain tomorrow, but I think that if I do anything, I'll go out early to Gore for some alpine skiing or to Garnet Hill.

2006-03-02T17:16:00.000-05:00

Not the winter hiking scene I wanted, but an Adirondack Mountain Club photo of hikers in warmer times. I just had to post a photo, and now that I'm an AMC member, I figured they wouldn't mind.

Annie's down with the flu and Sophie's lab pal is keeping his mistress company, so we had to do our Thursday adventure on our own today. I packed Sophie into the car with my pack full of water, hot chocolate, and dog biscuits, and headed toward the Bartman Trailhead. It took us twenty minutes of driving to get there, which irks me no end because it's only about four miles from our door. But in the winter, you just can't get there via a direct route, because some of the mountain roads are not maintained.

When we got to the trailhead, I was happy to see that snowmobiles had packed the trail down, so I left my snowshoes in the car and took only the pack and the Yaktrax. I strode out with the determination to make it all the way to Fish Pond. After 30 minutes of hiking, at the turn-off pointing the trail to the pond, the snowmobile tracks ended. Rats! No packed-down trail to the ponds.

I took a deep breath and tested the depth of the snow. About eight to ten, and in some places twelve inches deep. The trail marker stated that it's 1.2 miles to Fish Pond. This distance doesn't sound like much, but over tough, steep terrain and considering that snow depth, it can take forever.

But I was going to get there today no matter what. I wished I had my snowshoes at first, but when the trail got rocky, and when I discovered that the rocks were ice-coated, I realized I had more maneuverability in the Yaktrax.

On both sides of me were steep ridges. The sun shone dimly through gray clouds in the southern sky. Once again, I noted the absence of animal tracks. I don't understand why I've seen so few; after all, it hasn't been a hard winter.

We marched along, going downhill through a frozen streambed. Down, down we went, and with each step I was reminded that on the way back we'd have a big ascent. Finally, I saw a huge open space through the trees--Fish Pond! But there the trail seemed to end. It didn't, of course. It's supposed to continue on past Fish Pond, but, whether it was because of two enormous trees down across the trail, or some inability of mine to detect where it continued, I don't know, but we couldn't find it despite an intensive search. However, we did walk out to the pond through a dense thicket. Sophie ran around and around once we got there, luxuriating in the chance to run freely in open space. We didn't walk out far because the snow was very deep due to drifting.

What amazed me about the site were the hills--three of them that surrounded the pond. All this wilderness, and there was no one, not a soul anywhere. It was an awe-inspired moment for a woman from greater Boston. There was not the sound of traffic, planes, or jets--no sign that anyone was alive on the planet. I loved that.

We climbed back, and I was grateful for the hot chocolate, not for its warmth, but for the calories. All told, we were hiking (and I'm talking aerobic, sweat-making physical exertion here) for over 2 and a half hours. A woman (and her dog) get pretty hungry doing that. I was ravenous when I got home.

I've got to call the forest ranger who hikes or skis out this way about once a month. How do I continue on that trail?

2006-02-28T17:51:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-27T18:07:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-25T18:24:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-24T18:37:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-23T12:51:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-20T18:30:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-19T17:32:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-18T18:02:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-15T05:39:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-13T17:49:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-11T17:35:00.000-05:00

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!

2006-02-10T07:08:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-07T18:00:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-02-04T08:22:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-02T07:08:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-01-31T16:50:00.000-05:00

I'm horrified that it's been two weeks since I last posted. The silence is due to the fact that the blogger has been overwhelmed by the perpetual life crisis of too much to do. The other hindrance is that wherever I am, I start dozing off at about nine o'clock. I'm perplexed by this particularly because before we moved here I rarely turned the light out before 10:30 or 11pm.

It's snowing hard now, as it should be. I only hope it's snowing on the mountain where I was skiing earlier in a drizzle--spitting rain situation. The fog was so thick that on my last run the only terrain I could see was what was within five feet of me. Time to call it quits all right, though I was loathe to leave because it was also my best run of the day--every motion, every turn went beautifully.

The persistently warm winter weather has disappointed us deeply, and that includes Sophie. I came to the Adirondacks to get rid of this "Boston weather."

Sunday afternoon and evening an unpredicted five inches of heavy, wet snow fell, catching everyone by surprise. I was working and had the Toyota minivan with me. I called Ken who assured me the town had plowed our road, but I was nervous. The snow was falling so thickly and so fast that I feared a mere plow-through would not be enough to get me up our mountain road. Just as it was getting dark, I turned onto our road, and gave Hector (we name all our cars) the gas. I got up one steep rise, but the second stopped us. Nothing was going to get Hector up that road. So I decided I'd back my way down to a driveway, park it, and walk home. But it was dark and there are no streetlights. Add to that the insult of tinted glass obscuring visibility, and naturally I ended up with one wheel mired in a snowbank. I put on the flashers and hiked up, up, up, up, and even though Ken laughs when I say this, it was the longest climb of my life. The snow was swirling all around me--in my mouth, my eyes, my nose. I had no hiking boots, so my wornout L.L. Bean pull-ons did not provide traction. I arrived home in a snarling mood. All I could think of was how many conversations we'd had where I tried to convince Ken that the minivan would never deal with the snow and, in spring, the mud of our road.

For all concerned, I suppose it was fortunate that he was in a good mood and felt sorry for me, so my rage was soon doused to irritation and annoyance. I made him promise to drive me to work in the pickup the next day. With the help of Scott, the snowplow driver whom we met while he was trying to figure out how to get Hector out of the way, the saga comes to a close, but not before the excitement of having the minivan hauled out by a plow that makes Massachusetts snowplows look like Tonka toys.

I didn't mean to wax on so long about this little drama. After all, it was only five inches of snow (though it did come down in all of two hours). It seems that at this point we'll be sharing the Tundra pickup until the road freezes solid again, and during all inclement weather.

The wisest thing would be to trade the minivan in for another 4-wheel drive vehicle, but, our house in Canton hasn't sold yet, and a big purchase is just not in the cards.

2006-01-17T17:54:00.000-05:00

Am I too tired to post an entry? That's what I've been debating with myself these past five minutes. After walking Sophie a few miles this morning, I realized I had better go skiing today before the freezing rain and sleet mess up the conditions. And I'm so glad I went. For much of the day the sky was blue and the visiblity excellent. From Saddle Lodge, I was able to see clearly to the north and west, including stellar views of Mt. Marcy, the highest peak in New York, and nearly a dozen other mountains over 4,000 feet. The views all the way down took my breath away; that is, when I stopped by the side of the trail to look. A few times I found myself gawking while skiing, and realized I'm not that good, not yet. I still need to keep my eyes planted on my skis to make sure the tips don't cross when I'm turning.

I'm so mad the weather keeps betraying winter sports enthusiasts. Tomorrow morning it's supposed to rain. How dull. I might have to stay home and vacuum the house. Herbie the skiing weatherman keeps promising a return of polar air by the end of the month. I want more than that, though; just give me two feet of powder, and I promise I'll stop complaining.

2006-01-14T16:44:00.000-05:00

Friday the 13th turned out to be a lucky day for us. By sheer good fortune, we managed to register and get New York plates for both vehicles, all with a minimum of fuss due to the savvy and kindness of the woman who helped us at the Department of Motor Vehicles. By being incredibly observant and willing to go beyond the call of duty, she recognized several quick steps we could take that would save us time, energy, and money. We were so happy, we nearly danced our way to Starbucks. We sat down with celebratory java before making our way to the Social Security Office in Queensbury to submit our applications for replacements for our long lost s.s. cards, a prerequisite to getting our New York driver's licenses. That, too, went without a hiccup.

We then drove to Price Chopper and my heart sunk when I saw the enormous parking lot jammed with cars. I told Ken I would buy produce, he could pick up the half-dozen other things on the list, and we'd be out of there. I still can't face doing a big shop there after our last visit. But, the good news is, the time I was in the store yesterday was not horrific. Perhaps that's progress. Our groceries were checked out by the indifferent cashier, and we were on our way to Casey's North in North Creek for a lunch-dinner kind of meal. Sensational burgers! We talked and relaxed and then coached home to greet Sophie and walk Sophie.

Today--Saturday--Rain, ugh! Spent the morning making bread for the first time with my new Kitchen Aid mixer, a honey whole wheat. I also put together a pot roast for the crock pot, and did lots of laundry. The rain is changing to sleet, and we're supposed to get four to seven inches of snow, which will be heavenly if it's true. Yes, I'll be jubilant. But I can't hit the slopes tomorrow or Monday--two days of work ahead of me. And given the holiday weekend, I'll be out straight both days. But Tuesday morning? I hope.

2006-01-12T16:48:00.000-05:00

I skied Gore all morning today, and it was a peak experience. I met my friend at 8:30, we gabbed for a half hour over coffee, and then she ushered me to 3000 feet. The triple chair does not go to the summit of Gore; in fact, no lift does that. One must ski over to another lift to get to that rarified atmosphere. But we were way up there in the clouds where it was foggy and a bit chilly. She suggested we take it easy--She led the way and I followed, and miracle of miracles, everything fell into place. I leaned forward into my boots, my weight stayed on the downhill ski, I turned easily (though somewhat clumsily at times). But as we skiied all the way down, skiing became easier and easier. I couldn't believe it--I was having fun! After that torture-filled first lesson, part of me wondered if I ever wanted to put on skis again.

On our return to the heights, the sun was poking through the clouds, making the sky an artist's palette of blues, turquoises, violets, and grays. I was mesmerized. And with the fog dissipating, I could see the shadowy forms of dozens and dozens of mountains in the distance. Frankly, the visibility was not great, but I had the clearest sense of what the view might be like on a clearer, less hazy day.

We stopped at the Saddle Lodge near the top, took our skis off, and waddled inside. (Those boots!) The space inside is gorgeous! A roaring fire in a Barton garnetstone fireplace, all mined just a few miles away. The view--incroyable! My friend and I sat by the fire and sipped some tea before heading down the mountain again. I was in heaven.

My friend had to be off to work (it was now 11:30), but I went up again for another run. At the end, I felt exhilarated and confident--and impatient for some snow to fall. What is with this thaw? And tomorrow I hear Adirondack temperatures will be near 50 degrees. Unheard of!

Tomorrow I've got to go to the New York Department of Motor Vehicles in Lake George--oh boy. I suppose this means I'll feel I have to shop at Price Chopper. Please, anything but that!

2006-01-11T17:55:00.000-05:00

I'm disappointed I don't have enough time for anything but a brief post. I don't know where the time goes these days. I know how the morning goes, though. Sophie and I spent it hiking. With the warm temperatures, I was out in my light fleece jacket. I do wish it were colder so it wouldn't be so muddy. I don't mind for myself, but Sophie comes home a mess.

We finally hiked the full length of the mountain road that runs parallel to our road. It lies on the other side of a huge ridge to the west of us. The interior part of this road isn't plowed during the winter. There are no houses, just woods and mountain views. And it's very still. We startled a great horned owl that was sleeping near the top of a spruce tree. He flew off toward the ridge.

I love this walk because when we're on this road, I feel as though Sophie and I are the only beings in the world. It's almost as if the world has stopped. I can think and feel at peace. Of course we're not alone. Farther up the road is a farm with horses. Sophie knows that...she loves to nibble on the manure they've left behind, deep beneath the snow.

Two hours later, we were home again, and it was time for me to do my North Creek errands. I found some fascinating books from the library. One is a biography of Georgia O'Keefe that just came out this past fall, I believe. Title to follow. At least I had a quiet half hour to read in front of the gas fire before I had to go pack my gear for an early skiing expedition tomorrow morning. I'm meeting a friend at the mountain at half past eight. That means I better get there at least a half hour earlier to get myself into those damn boots! This friend is a top-notch skier, so I'm a little nervous. I have fully informed her of my own status on the slopes, and since she has spent years as a ski instructor, she's going to give me a few tips. Too bad it has to rain tonight of all nights, but there it is. What is with this weather? More to come tomorrow. I hope.

2006-01-08T17:30:00.000-05:00

Just got back from work. Sunday is an incredibly busy day on the mountain, and it seems that hundreds of people are still lining up for their season passes and discount cards. The queues make me nervous, mostly because the skiers looks so miserable waiting, languishing in line when they are itching to be skiing. I hate to keep them, but what else can I do? The computer will only go so fast, and no faster. And I am still a slow operator. I'm so wiped out at the end of the day. Tomorrow should be much slower; I hope that there will be enough traffic so that I can get some of these procedures locked tight in my brain.

Yesterday brought an unexpected surprise. Our neighbors at "Sanity Hill" stopped by in the afternoon to invite us over for a glass of wine. As the light faded yesterday, we had a lovely tour of their home, which has a knock-your-socks-off view of Eleventh Mountain. They have two beautiful rooms in which to sit and relax and soak in the vista.

I was so enheartened to find that Dotti has spent most of her life living in Westwood, the town next to Canton, our Massachusetts home base. I couldn't believe it. And Pete was originally from Foxboro. Dotti mentioned that people are forever kidding her about her Boston accent. Funny, I didn't even notice she had one--all because I've got one, too! Dotti and Pete plan to live up here full-time as soon as Pete retires at the end of 2006; for now they come up weekends.

2006-01-07T08:20:00.000-05:00

It's just a few degrees below zero this morning, and I'm waiting for the sun to warm the air a bit before heading out with Sophie. Yesterday we only walked a couple of miles because an exhaustion thing has made me slow way down. After being hit over the head with fatigue, I finally realized I need time to rest and relax before I tackle any new adventures. So yesterday I spent lots of time reading, and I hope to do the same today. After all, I'll be swarmed by anxious skiiers early tomorrow morning.

I finished The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, a book that made nearly every book critic's Ten Best of 2005 list. The cover boasts that the novel is noted for its originality, and I'll give it that. I can also say it's compelling reading from start to finish, but for someone just coming off a three-month moving gig, it was incredibly confusing. My brain struggled to make the pieces fit, and they don't, and I don't think they're supposed to, until the conclusion. The characters moved me, and each had powerful things to say about life that made the book worth the challenge, but somehow the whole novel did not ever truly come together.

A heap of Adirondack-related books sits on the coffee table in the living room. I'm now reading the back-to-nature classic of the early 1970s, Woodswoman:Young Ecologist Meets the Challenge of Living Alone in the Adirondack Wilderness by Anne LaBastille. I tried to read it this fall, but to tell the truth, I was not able to read a single book from the time of our Minerva vacation in September until now. Until my next post, all I'll say is I'm loving it so much, I read every page at least twice before proceeding to the next.

2006-01-04T17:20:00.000-05:00

After watching skiers rush out of the marketing department to hit the slopes all day Sunday and Monday, I've been waiting for my time to get out there. Yesterday I got familiar with all my ski gear and paraphenalia, bought a ski lock, and practiced taking my new boots and skis on and off. Today Sophie and I hiked only two miles early in the morning, because I was hoping to make it to the mountain to get a morning ski lesson. I figured since I haven't been downhill skiing in 26 years, a private lesson would help me get my sea legs back.

By the time I got to the mountain, it was sunny, and I was hot in my ski clothes--temps were about 35 degrees. I baked, although baking gives the impression of dry heat. My experience was considerably steamier. The 10:30 lessons were overbooked, so I was only able to get a lesson at noon. In the meantime, I struggled into my boots. The equipment, especially the boots, are challenging. It's the whole "inner boot" construction that makes it so difficult. I felt better when I saw a crew of young college students huffing and puffing while pulling on their boots.

Every step of the entire morning was new to me. Carrying skis, lugging boots--they weigh an absolute ton nowadays--, figuring out how my lock works, walking. Walking! It's nearly impossible in this footgear, but I knew I had to get from the lodge to the ski lesson waiting area, and I just prayed and hoped gumption and momentum would get me there.

Fortunately I had a patient instructor. He was kind and supportive, though he was also a strict taskmaster. I progressed from the kiddie slope to the mountain in about ten minutes, but each minute presented some new challenge to conquer. I was mentally and physically exhausted after an hour, and decided it would be best to return to practice what I learned tomorrow or Friday instead of going up for another run.

After eating a very late lunch at home, I collapsed on the couch to watch a PBS documentary--Icons of Twentieth Century Art. Viewing art is restful, yet exciting at the same time.

All in all, I feel great to have the first time out behind me. It can only get easier from here. Yet another adventure under my belt. The view? The scenic vistas from up the mountain? I didn't see a single thing except my feet and skis and the instructor. The full mountaintop experience will have to wait for me.

2006-01-01T17:22:00.000-05:00

My first day on the job, as a staff person in the Marketing Department at the mountain, went well, I think, though I have alot more information to get square in my head. I'm dealing with the public (lots of public!) and field all kinds of questions and help people with problems, including those that focus on my special area--tickets, ski passes, gift certificates, and anything that is connected with customers' access to the mountain. Everyone I worked with was helpful and friendly, so everything is off to a good start.

There is one problem I now face. I've been given a special vest to wear while on duty, but the Marketing Department is extremely warm. The vest is the kind that's suitable for outdoor wear in the spring and fall, and I'm supposed to wear it over a shirt. Granted, I can wear a short-sleeved shirt, but regardless, I can tell I'm going to be having a hot flash every other minute in this thing. I don't have any short-sleeved shirts all ready to go except t-shirts, and I think that looks too casual. So I've got to go on an archeological dig through my wardrobe to find the right shirt. Not tonight, though. I just want to make dinner, watch tv or read, and hit the sack early so I can get up at 5:15 tomorrow. Then I get my 5 days off. Not bad, eh? Actually, I'm hoping to get back to what's supposed to be my real job--writing.

New Year's Eve Ken and I shared a little bottle of Korbel Brut (the beverage served at our wedding nearly 20 years ago). We toasted each other again and again, all in the spirit of building happy lives here. Then we watched the next to last episode of the Sopranos Season 5. I'm so disappointed that they killed off Adrianna, but what an episode, incredibly crafted. Just one more show and we'll be waiting for Season 6 to start in March.

Maybe tomorrow morning early early I can blog about our hiking expedition on Saturday.

2005-12-31T07:50:00.000-05:00

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.)

2005-12-30T07:37:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-27T18:36:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-23T18:40:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-22T07:51:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-21T08:07:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-20T06:53:00.000-05:00

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!

2005-12-19T07:03:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-18T07:11:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-17T12:37:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-15T07:03:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-14T06:47:00.000-05:00

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!

2005-12-13T22:17:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-07T12:11:00.000-05:00

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?

2005-12-05T14:32:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-11-30T18:29:00.000-05:00

Spoke to one of our friends in the North Country this morning. David said it got up to 63 degrees there yesterday and poured buckets. That's about what our temperature was, too. Every few days or so, I e-mail or otherwise contact one of our friends in the ADK to make sure the future is still there.

It's been sad at times pulling away from our associations here. Steve and I will meet for breakfast at Zaftig, a Jewish deli in Brookline on Friday. At least I'll see him before he heads out on his lecture cruise on the QEII. But my other friend is continuing to prove elusive. She has e-mailed me, in response to yet another phone messagte from me, that December 9 is the best day for us to get together for lunch. But it is unlike her not to speak to me by phone. How can I convince her that our friendship is worth continuing long distance? I seem to have hurt in her some way, and I'm sorry, but I'm not sure exactly how I did this, except by deciding to move away from Boston.

Kitty is very optimistic about the future of our friendship. She swears that nothing will keep her from visiting. I worry, though; her eyes are failing and before long I'm afraid she will be legally blind. Sid will want to visit, but I fear not as often as she will want to, or I will want her to. There are, however, flights from Boston to Albany, though I'm not sure Sid will allow her to travel alone, even if I will be right there to meet her.

Packing, packing, packing. I read the Glen Falls Post Star online to keep in touch. I subscribe to all the North Country Public Radio news editions. I go to the Gore Mountain website everyday to check in on the snow report. Time goes so slowly because of the tedium. Always another box to pack.

Just wish I had some Adirondack news to report. I don't, but in Canton I saw a huge coyote at the Bradley estate. Gosh, he was big. As big as Sophie, with a beautiful, fluffy tail. Handsome!

2005-11-27T18:34:00.000-05:00

Ken and I spent part of Saturday outfitting ourselves with clothing and gear for our new lives in the mountains. Sorels, warm socks of many varieties, compasses, warm winter wear of all kinds--all at a discount. I have new Sorels especially made for snowshoes, though they'll be good for cold weather hiking as well. And mud boots, we really need those. I think the brand we selected are called Mud Ducks. If they only made a mud skirt for Sophie's undercarriage! That's what I hate the most about muddy weather. How do you keep dog tummies free of mud?

I've been feeling particularly unsociable. I have nothing much to say because all I've been doing is packing and dealing with moving issues. In the evenings, I manage to stay awake long enough to watch one episode of something on TV. That's it.

I've just got to get through this week and really move mountains to get more stuff into boxes or packed away in the file cabinet or desks. Next Monday the 5th, as long as there's not a snowstorm, I'll be making my way north.

Transitions in relationships, too. One friend I treasure has made herself scarce. I left a phone message, she e-mailed me rather than calling me back, and responded to my question as to when she might be available for lunch. She added that she wasn't sure if she could get together because her writing might be at a difficult spot at the times I'm available to meet her. Sigh. I really was hoping against hope that we could stay friends, that we could keep a connection going after we move. She was happy for us when I told her initially, happy that we're making a move we want, but she admitted feeling sad and personally disappointed that things would change. I'm sad, too, but I really wanted to work to maintain a connection that would reach out over the miles between us. That's what I want, but that may not be what she wants to invest in.

Another dear, dear friend and colleague is himself moving away, to California, in about six months or so. He's still hoping there's a way out, because he's a do-or-die Bostonian, and he still can't believe I'm leaving because he was positive I was one, too. But, to tell the truth, it was very hard to imagine being here without him, and although it may have been a contributing factor leading me to pursue this move, it certainly was only one of many. Just the same, I'll miss him sorely. We were supposed to get together December 1st or 2nd, in between his research trip to London and his lecture tour for one final meal in the city, but his last e-mail neglected to mention anything about it.

So, all in all, I'm feeling slightly deprived in the friendship department. It's always hard to believe, before a move to a new place, that one will meet new friends who will nourish and satisfy. I understand, though, that there are quite a number of writers and artists in the Adirondacks, and that, one way or another, I'll meet them, and befriend a few. Who knows?

2005-11-22T20:42:00.000-05:00

Back in the Hub--bub. Not at all pleased, which is due to the fact that our entire house is upside-down. The moving facilitators helped us clear and clean the garage and attic on Monday, and helped Ken deal with some more of his stuff. So now it's in boxes and piles to be further sorted or loaded into the moving van. But that's not coming for three more weeks. Actually, Monday, December 12, the movers pack us, the 13th we load and drive north, and the 14th they unpack us. Give me strength and a hand to hold (or a bullet to bite on!).

I have the privilege of supervising the carpet cleaning people myself on December 6. That means I'll drive up Monday the 5th, make sure the carpet guys don't get lost in our new house, relax the 7th (picture me skiing or snowshoeing or knitting and watching the snow fall), and drive home the 8th. With this schedule, I need to be nearly done with organizing and packing before December 5. What slows me down sometimes is the need to check with Ken before discarding something, anything. "Ken, do you want to keep this plastic letter opener from Anton's Dry Cleaners?" Not quite that bad, but close. I'm finally at the point where I'm just going to discard the really junky stuff and not ask. Just chuck it! "Be ruthless," as my mother would say when she made me clean out my closet as a teenager.

Now isn't this an incredibly boring blog entry? I'll warn you, readers; moving is deathly boring work. There is nothing elevating about it. Real life goes into suspend mode and one doesn't resume it until the new place is in some semblance of normalcy. I'll pray that it will be soon, so my readers won't swear off this blog.

2005-11-19T17:48:00.000-05:00

We decided to stay here one more day before heading back to Canton. It's too hard to leave, although Sunday we must. This morning I stayed in my bathrobe until ten thirty, an unheard of luxury. Then, after a shower, I explored, being ever mindful that hunters could be around, imagining that I'm a deer in a light blue parka. I sang but felt stupid talking to myself, which I was advised to do. As I headed east out the back of our land, many mountains to the north become visible, including Gore Mountain with its now-snowy ski trails. They're making snow like crazy now, the jet guns going full blast, in preparation for the mountain's opening next week. How I wish I were going to be here when it does! But there's no way.

I wish I could come up when the carpet and upholstery cleaners arrive on December 6. Maybe I can figure out a way where I just have to be here, to make sure all goes well. I have hired someone locally to let the cleaners in and lock up when they leave, but in many, many ways I'd prefer to take care of it all myself. Could I persuade Ken that I just have to make the trip up for three days? I could think up other essential jobs that need doing, I'm just sure I could convince him if I can get into my most diplomatic personna. Then the next day, I could sneak up to the mountain and ski my brains out for a few hours, and then return home the following day, December 8, a week before we move. Would that be so horrible?

Annie and her colleagues at Broderick Real Estate rise early on most weekday mornings and put in a couple of hours of skiing before heading to the office. Sounds like a great way to start the day.

We drove to North Creek for some errands, introduced ourselves to Sarah, the young woman who's the proprieter of the famous Cafe Sarah on Main Street. Great bakery, delicious coffee, cozy seating area. She knows us on sight from our years of frequenting the cafe during our vacations. Turns out the property across the street from us, which the previous owners of our house owned as well, was just sold. But I wanted to buy it, damn it! It's been sold to a married couple who are friends of hers. They sound like nice people--they're teachers at a local school. So at least we're getting some good neighbors, but I'd rather not have building going on right across the street. Oh, well.

Then Ken suggested we head off to visit our friends in Minerva. We found David and Randi's labs, Hudson and Gracie, but the rest of the family is vacationing in Tennessee, where they used to live. Because they own Morningside Camps and Cottages, their vacation comes when the summer season is over. So we hopped back in the car and headed off to visit Pete and Anne Hornbeck in Olmstedville. They were both home, Pete preparing for a big fishing trip to western New York. Ken and Pete talked in Pete's boat building shop (he is owner of the prestigious Hornbeck Boats), and when I expressed interest in Anne's quilting, she showed me all her quilts and gave me a tour of her quilt-making shop, a beautiful project room above her garage. Pete is ecstatic we've made the move up here and we hope to see lots more of them

Then home we went after a stop at Tops, the grocery in North Creek. Ken talked me into having pizza for the second time this week. I have no real way to make a dinner other than hamburgers or pizza, so I gave in. And here we are; it's six thirty and I supposed I have to pop that thing in the oven, which is totally inferior to the one I have at home. How long will I be able to stand it?

2005-11-18T18:40:00.000-05:00

Brilliant sunshine for much of the day today, which made the cold much easier to take. It was about 15 degrees when I got up at six, and the temperature did not rise above 28 degrees all day. I didn't mind a bit, but ask me how I like it when we're at twenty below! I don't think I'll go skiing then.

I'm mesmerized by the view out our windows. I am constantly distracted by it and I take it in big mouthfuls. I was so busy with errands and house jobs that I didn't have a chance to walk the property until four. For 45 minutes I crisscrossed the pastures. There's no help for it: The only place for the garden is where the bears and deer like to meander. The soil is not passable anywhere else. Joe, a native of Johnsburg, is going to be my right-hand man in breaking ground for my organic vegetable garden. I haven't discussed with him the building of an electric fence yet, but it seems the only way, especially if I want to plant a few blueberry bushes. Even with an electric fence, I'm not sure the bears will be able to resist crashing through a fence, even if it is electric. It's possible I'll have to forego blueberries if I want to maintain a garden fence.

Joe's brother Jim loves to hunt. He helped Joe remove the furniture that the previous owners left behind. They're going to find new homes for all of it. Jim stood at our living room windows and whistled. "Some great hunting up here all right," he said. "Sure is," Joe said. I sensed that this was the opportunity they were giving me to say that I'd let them hunt up here. But I said nothing. "Do you hunt?" they asked Ken. "No, I don't," Ken said in a beleagured voice. Jim said, "Heck, all you have to do here is step out on the deck and shoot!" I laughed, and I did find it funny, but I cringed at the same time.

I hope I got myself a weekend job today. When I had my picture taken for my season's ski pass at Gore Mountain, I applied for a job. The woman in the office took my application with considerable enthusiasm. She thought they'd use me in the ski shop or in the concessions area. That's fine by me. I really enjoy retail work. And weekend work is perfect because the mountain is far too crowded for skiing in my opinion.

We have to go home tomorrow, and I'll be dragging my feet all the way. I love my new home and I want to stay here. It's so annoying to have to go to Canton and deal with all the moving problems.

2005-11-17T19:23:00.000-05:00

This morning I was up at six. My heart flip-flopped when I walked downstairs to the living room and saw mauve tendrils of clouds that promised a glorious sunrise. For the next couple of hours I kept returning to the windows to watch the morning unfold. I had thought the living room faced east, but it appears it faces east--northeast or even north-northeast. I need a compass to figure it all out.

I wanted to run upstairs, dress, and race out the door to the woods, but I didn't. We're in the midst of deer hunting season, and even though there are "No Hunting" signs posted, the previous owners told me that they have always allowed the guys on the fire squad to hunt up here. All their tales of bears and moose did not concern me, but when the missus turned to me and said, "If they show up, just go out and tell them you don't want them to hunt up here," I wanted to scream. You mean I have to go out and tell the men who might someday be in a position to save my house from burning down that they can't hunt where they've always hunted? When I told her, I really didn't want them to hunt here because of our dog, she just said, "Well, we've always tried to get along with the locals." That's what she called them, "the locals," like they're some alien underclass. I guess I'll wait the two weeks for hunting season to be over before I venture out there, and even then I'll only do so while singing--loudly.

Our trip to Glens Falls was productive. Ken hung out at Home Depot for hours and hours, buying lots of items we need to make the place livable. I relaxed at Starbucks, then ventured on to explore the shopping opportunities. I visited Price Chopper, which appears to be a very good, supersized supermarket. The produce was of high quality for a supermarket, so I'm sure I'll be shopping there. I found an excellent discount liquor store with a large wine inventory. My favorite, Excelsior Cabernet Sauvignon from Robertson, South Africa, was in abundance, to my delight. Wal-Mart was in evidence, but will never be frequented by me or Ken, not even once. The boycott is still and always will be in effect, at least for us. There's a Sears, J.C. Penney, Target, Lowe's, Jo-Ann's Fabrics--lots of chains in this part of Glens Falls. We didn't venture into the shopping district of the city--that will require a day of exploration by itself.

It's annoying to me that I had to spend five to six hours there in that wasteland of a mall area, but sometimes one must.

Tomorrow morning early, perhaps I'll hike through the back, yelling and singing and pretending Sophie's with me. To hell with the hunters.

2005-11-16T15:54:00.000-05:00

Today is our first full day in our new house. We pulled in yesterday at around noon, and set to work with a vengeance, discarding bag after bag of junk that the previous owners left behind. Monday night, when we had the pre-arranged, pre-closing "walk through," I silently hit the panic button when I realized the owners were leaving us everything they didn't want to take. Due to a host of irresolvable circumstances, not the least of which was that the former owners knew everybody in our new town and would badmouth us to everyone if we insisted on a remedy, we did not press our point--that the purchase agreement states that we were buying the house "furnished," but with "personal belongings" removed. So much for contracts! Our realtor promised to help us bag all the stuff and haul everything to the Adirondack version of the Salvation Army and to the dump, which she did. I was extremely grateful--it would have created a messy scene to force these people, and without her help at the house, I would have been completely overwhelmed.

So today dawned, raining hard as it did all day yesterday, but with me feeling much better after a decent night's sleep. Everything has been uphill since the day of the closing.

With help, we've emptied the truck we brought, our phone is working, and our DSL and wireless all connected. We don't have satellite tv yet, that is going to have to wait until we move in permanently next month.

So this morning I had my fresh-ground coffee with cream as planned, and looked out on our land. Terrible visibility, though. I could see the hills, but not the mountains. I do hope it clears before we have to go home Saturday! Although the previous owners tried to scare us with stories of a parade of black bears marching across the property and bobcats in our woods, I was much more afraid of the chance of running into a mouse indoors. The house inspector told us about the mouse droppings he found in the crawl spaces, and I found droppings and a container of D-Con under the kitchen sink. Yeah, I'm terrified of mice for some reason. I even stand up on chairs and scream, "Eeek! Ohmigod, a MOUSE!" But so far the only wildlife I've seen has been a chickadee that scolded us--I guess he thinks it's high time we put a feeder up. We will, wee chickadee, when we move in in December.

A cold front is moving through. The temperature has dropped 18 degrees since this morning. I'd love to see snow, of course. I'd like nothing better than to march through my woods and come across a bobcat. What do they think we bought their house for? Sipping cocktails by the pool? This is the wilderness, for chrissakes!

Tomorrow we go to the "big city" to drop off the rental truck and go to Home Depot for supplies. We'll check out one of the several supermarkets, too. I can't wait for the moving-in process to be over so I can begin having some adventures around here.

2005-11-11T17:16:00.000-05:00

Darkness is closing in on Redwing Marsh in eastern Massachusetts, and in one month I will leave it forever for a new life in the Adirondacks. Leaving a suburban existence is incredibly complicated, and extricating ourselves from the unwelcome trappings of urban life has been as difficult as trying to shake off garage cobwebs--you know the kind, gauzy stuff so sticky you're forced to live with them until the next laundry.

Problems everywhere we look, the worst being dealing with contractors, painters, and "handymen." I won't continue in this vein because this kind of chatter sucks all the life out of me. Now when I get a call or an e-mail from one of our Adirondack friends, I'm so cheered up, I jump out of my grumpy suit. The Future! It really is out there after all!

Tomorrow we pick up the rental truck, Sunday we pack it, and Monday we drive up for the closing on our new house, which will take place at ten on Tuesday morning. This is only phase one of our move--we move permanently with all the rest of our stuff on December 14. But what's keeping me alive is knowing we'll be up there from Monday until Saturday morning next week.

On Wednesday morning, November 16, I'll make coffee and take that first cup with me and sit in front of the huge windows that look out on our pastures and woods--all 26.7 acres of it. I'll write in my journal, something I've found just too hard to do these past weeks as I race from one moving task to the next.

When will I take that first solo walk? (Sophie will be visiting all her aunts, uncles, and cousins next week.) We have to remember to bring the brush cutters, so I can start bushwhacking some ski trails out the back. I can't get too busy with that because I've got to drop in at Gore Mountain so they can take my photo for my season's pass. And my other important piece of business is getting a library card at the local library.

There's so much I want to do at our new place (hiking, exploring my new town of 2200 people, getting my office set up, reading and writing again, cooking, snowshoeing, alpine skiing, cross-country skiing), it'll kill me to have to drive back here and finish all the hard work. Deep down I may be a lazybones after all. If that's not true, then at the least I'm allergic to moving.

I'm eager to begin recording the details of our adventure. Just a couple of more days.