Ice Blues

One morning last month, just before sunrise, the temperature plunged to -2 degrees. That's not so unusual for this time of year, but this particular morning brought with it one of my favorite winter phenomena:  rime ice (also known as hoarfrost, ice fog, and rime frost). Every inch of every branch, stem and tree trunk, shimmered and glistened with a soft coating of white jagged ice. 

It was a spectacular, foggy, winter wonderland against crisp blue skies. On some surfaces it was thick as snow while on others it appeared to be growing in sharp spikes.

Winter birding was a challenge.  However, a family of seven lovely, little bluebirds have been with us all winter, feeding on berries in the garden and singing from the trees. Brilliant blue against the white snow and the red berries of the winterberry bush, they flit away from the stingy starlings and manage to out-wit the sneaky cats. At night, I find them huddled in the eaves outside our bedroom window and checking on them has become my bedtime ritual. 

Usually all I can see is a tail or two high up in the corner, but many nights one adult is sleeping separately from the group, alone on a ledge but tucked in against the weather. About two weeks ago, however, they stopped coming in to roost even though it is still windy and cold. Are these bluebirds winter birds who have since started their way north? Or are these the same bluebirds we have here in the summer? (will there be seven?) And if so, where ARE they right now? I miss their cheery songs and the promise of spring!

I'll take the B

As my 12 followers have probably noticed (and those of you who read my blog but don't publicly follow) I've been silent since the New Year. No reason, really. Not bored with writing but I am bored with winter. Seems like it has been a hard one this year. Windy. Cold. Lots of ice. I'm not certain that the weather map data will confirm those facts. It's more of a feeling, I guess.

Life has picked up a few paces with me being in school. Weekend classes began at the end of January, and I feel like I've been playing catch-up with my time ever since. I don't feel overwhelmed, but my brain cells are otherwise entranced in Swedish massage, body mechanics, kinesiology, muscles and bones. I'm feeling exhausted and exhilarated, absent-minded yet organized, buried under chores but ready to open for business. How I can feel all of this all at the same time? 

I'm amazed at how quickly I learn some things, yet how slowly I'm catching on to others. I'm learning how I learn. Visually? Kinesthetically? Auditorialy? A combination of all three? I'm reminded by my instructors to be patient. Confusion is good - it means that our brain is processing the new material, and it will arrive comfortably in the land of knowledge in due time. We had our first quiz in kinesiology over the weekend and I missed 3 out of 20. That's a B in the grade book and I'll take it.

PS:  Here's a picture of Pip hiding under a hosta last fall. She's our little outcast. Squeemish, timid, and lovely.

Riding in the New Year

Our traditional New Year's Eve celebration is watching a bunch of movies, creating and enjoying a fabulous multi-course meal, and drinking lots of wine. Just the two of us. Well, three if you include our warm and comfort-seeking dog named Jake. Temperatures were mild enough to start the evening on the porch stoop and drink a cocktail, the barn and shrubs ablaze in sunset.  Most of the meal was sourced locally: a standing roast from High Point Farms, a creamy soup of leek and rutabagas from Country Side Produce, chocolate ice cream from Cayuga Lake Creamery, wine from J. R. Dill and bubbly from Lucas Vineyards. It was another perfect evening.

Early in December we made reservations for a New Year's Day trail ride at Painted Bar Stables in Burdette. Neither of us having ever been on a horse, we nervously made our way into the stables, all the while getting safety tips and riding instructions from Erika, the owner. I was to ride Dozer, a sharp looking chestnut gelding. Duchess, a solid paint palomino mare, was saddled for Kevin. We mounted, and with my stomach in my throat, I gingerly directed Dozer to the trail head and I stopped. I can't do it, I thought I said to myself, but Erika--ever present and alert--heard me, and made a suggestion. "Hum a tune, and you'll get over your fear. And don't forget to breathe. The horse will sense that you are nervous, then he'll get nervous. Oh, and don't micro-manage the horse. He knows how to walk through the mud and ice. Just gently suggest what you want him to do." I did, and he did, and all was well.

Creekside, my fear took over again, but with kind encouragement from Erika and the other riders, I kept calm, leaned back and let sure-footed Dozer manage the slope into the water. Slow and steady. That wasn't so bad. All in all, it was lovely ride on a mild winter day through corn fields and meadows, and I can't wait to go horseback riding again. Perhaps this will be a new tradition for us--riding into a Happy New Year.

The Lovely Snow Geese

There's nothing more beautiful on a cold, clear winter day than a gaggle of snow geese. When first you hear them, you can't help but stop whatever it is you are doing, and look up at their black wing-tipped whiteness against the blue sky. 

Although their numbers are much smaller in December than in the spring, they are impressive nonetheless. Like falling snow, they descend into the fields in swirls, circling and circling, their feathers sparkling as they catch the sunlight.

I was working in Geneva, New York the first time I saw the snow geese. Their unusual sound caught my attention; an unfamiliar ruckus of sorts and nothing like our local frequent flyers the Canada Geese. It was more like the baying of hounds, and there were hundreds and hundreds of them in crisscrossing V formations. I was in love!

As I came to look forward to the return of the snow geese, I shared my passion for these lovely birds with my sister while she was visiting one spring. We drove for miles searching the skies for the large masses of snowy white geese. We stopped at every vista, scouring the lakes for their large glacier-like congregations, until we came upon an open field covered in white. We jumped out of the car. There were thousands of snow geese as far as the eye could see. The noise was incredible, even as they took flight in waves and waves of white and black.

Last year some snow geese landed right across the road from our house and stayed for a day or so. However, the snow geese are not the farmers' friends. They forage in the fields, pull the plants by the roots and devastate the crop. But for me, the lovely snow geese are a little piece of heaven in winter.

Beginnings of Spring

With spring just around the corner, the snow drifts are subsiding and our front yard has come alive! Not only are the green shoots of crocus popping up, but the migration has begun. Geese, both Canadas and Snow geese, are passing through in a constant stream of honking, sometimes flying so low you can hear the flapping of their wings.  If we are lucky, and often we are, they rest and feed in the field across the road.

No matter the temperature or the weather, the birds return and get right to work. This week's arrivals are the killdeer, bluebirds (usually here year-round but not this year), common grackle, and robins all of whom are marking out their territories ahead of the next wave. Also back, and in large numbers, are the red-winged blackbirds. The male house finches, now bright pink, are carrying nesting materials. The house sparrows fight the bluebirds for the nest boxes.  Our resident kestrel munches on his dinner of vole as we arrive home from work.  Soon we'll be saying goodbye to the snow buntings and horned larks who fed in small flocks at the sides of the road.

Spring not only feels different, but it sounds different. My amazement and respect for it will never cease. I don't know whether to look down at the ground for new green growth or look up in the trees for birds. It's invigorating. And it's just the beginning!

**bonus sighting:  We saw a red fox crossing the road last evening. In a very cat-like manner, it stopped, turned, and looked at us.

4x4 x 3 x 2

One 4x4 Ford F350 turbo diesel truck with Snow Dog plow.
3 strong men with shovels. 2 draft horses. That's what it took to get us out of the driveway Friday morning.

How much snow did we get? Hard to say. We can see the grass, yet not the porch. We'll say about 15 inches for now.....it is still blowing and snowing.

The challenge:
A monster snow drift in the driveway, which spread about 80 feet between the barn and the road.

The men:

Kevin, my hubby and innkeeper of The Hayward House. Elam, our neighbor and dairy farmer. Bill, our 81 year old neighbor and all around nice guy.

Can you guess who owned the 4x4 Ford F350 equipped with a Snow Dog?



The result?

Winter Sport

Winter is upon us bringing short days and sustaining winds from the west. And while we are closed for the season, we engage in our favorite winter sport: RENOVATION!

Our current project is to renovate what probably was, in the original floor plans, the library. Should be simple--no plumbing, but a large room with two windows, three doors, one double pocket door, and a large walk-in closet which we'll make into a guest pantry, complete with a small refrigerator and microwave.

A blank slate, this big empty room, waiting for purpose. Make it a game or media room? Not quite in keeping with our "quiet country setting." Hire an Amish cabinet maker to construct bookcases covering the 9ft walls from floor to ceiling? Stunning, but not quite right. We waited to be inspired, and in the meantime refinished the floors, placed a few vintage chairs around a nice rug, hung a reprint of an old local town map on the wall knowing...hoping...that by and by an idea would strike us. A visit to the local printer was the inspiration we needed. Vintage maps! We visualize a quiet reading room with vintage maps of New York towns hung salon style from wooden picture rails, on walls painted the color of.......um......we'll get back to you on that! Choice can be torture.

We insulate, we hang drywall, and Kevin works diligently and tirelessly putting in switches and light boxes, and taping and mudding. Soon I'll be sporting my new Carhartt overalls (oh, goody!) and help with the sanding and painting.

As we peeled away layers of wallpaper, we exposed the trends and styles of long ago. The bottom layer is like a fresco, adhered to the crumbling horsehair plaster which, when removed, reveals square nails in the framing and lath so dry it crackles and spits when we burn it.

From behind the lath, plaster and small hickory nuts spill onto the floor, each nut hollowed out on both sides. I imagine the squirrels, who lived here when the house sat empty, scurrying through the walls, nesting, and stocking up for the cold winter.