Friday, October 28, 2011

snow, sun, fire, kisses.

It started snowing yesterday in the late afternoon. You’d think after literally decades of living in New England, I’d be prepared for this, but I never am. Since I felt like crap yesterday afternoon and had only the energy to sit with a cat on my lap, this was peaceful and lovely. But I did pout.


So pretty, but when you’re not in the right mindset, there’s no way to avoid being late to work.  Oh look, my car’s in the shade…with three inches of heavy snow frozen in place. Where is the ice scraper? In the other car. Oh look, the door to the other car is frozen shut. OK…where is the other ice scraper? (scrape, scrape, scrape.) Damn, this takes a long time. I’m going to be late for work. Why am I working, again? Oh right: for the money. OK. (scrape, scrape, scrape.)


While I slaved over a hot computer at work, the sun came out and made it all go bye bye.


Can you tell that the shared driveway is now as smooth as a baby’s bottom? We got re-graded just in time.


Sweet dreams, white baneberry plant! All your spooky white berries, each dotted with a single pupil of black, have gone into other dimensions.


Mmmmm…cattail seeds…Speaking of cattail-friendly environments, it’s time for an update on the local beaver activity. You may remember that That Bitch Irene stole our pond, by causing the main dam which forms it, to breach.


Our pond, circa ten days ago.

I can just imagine the beavers’ initial dismay. But, being beavers, and thus prone to busyness, they got right on it, building a dam along a small stream that feeds the pond closer to the road. That stream, which really, isn’t a stream so much as a trickle, is now epically pond-like itself.


Here we are out on the road, looking in the direction of the original dam. Our house is off the right, out of the picture. Normally, there’s no standing water here. None. Yes, those are alders and willows, which like living near water. But really, this scene is out of control. Go, beavers! Actually, it’s a problem, as I’ve mentioned before, because if that other tributary backs up far enough, it’ll wreck the field we all drive through to get to our respective homes.



A quick tangent to absorb a treasure trove of bittersweet nightshade berries.



Vermont: snow and photosynthesis, in the same day.


Hm. What could this be for?


Answer: a ginormous bonfire, in honor of the neighborhood high school’s last football game, scheduled to be held tomorrow…in the snow. The team, their supporters, and various and sundry friends and neighbors crowded around. As you might expect, staring into a bonfire is kind of addicting.





No bonfire is complete without a tractor to push the edges in periodically. The fun part is when the tractor stalls and you wonder if it will restart in time to not catch on fire. (Unlikely, but makes for a good story.)


It caved in, bit by bit.


Spirits appeared.


Bonfires are good for making out.

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