Friday, January 30, 2015


As you might have gathered from my previous post, we are having a lot of snow in Maine.  A LOT. So this morning, tired of fighting the slippery roads into work, I decided to give myself a day off. After breakfast I said to Bill want to go snowshoeing today? He cleared his throat, hemmed and hawed a bit, and finally out came I was afraid you might say that.

Coming from Texas, I have not been a natural at winter sports.  Downhill skiing was hardly possible since I fell at the top of the chair lift every time.  Cross-country skiing wasn't much better-I still fell and those long skis became tangled and I could not get up.  Both embarrassing situations that I was not eager to repeat very often. But snowshoeing...that's a different story. First of all, I don't fall. The shoes are wide and sturdy and they grip the snow just right.  Years ago I was absolutely thrilled to find that here is a winter sport that I can manage and enjoy.

When we first moved to Maine over 20 years ago Bill bought a set of 1930's era snowshoes for me at an antique store.  He had to do a lot of work to make them usable and they were a treasured gift. Most people now use more modern snowshoes made out of aluminum, but these are truly beautiful, make a pretty track and work very well for me. I have cherished them for years.

Living on the coast our snow totals are often not what they are in interior Maine and there have been some years I did not snowshoe.  But this year?  Just perfect.  So what was the problem?  Bill had given away my snowshoes to a neighbor boy down the street who helps us mow our yard. I bet you can imagine my response to that...and now you see the result in the photo above...reunited with my snowshoes.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Surviving the Blizzard

Smart cat, our Toulouse, sitting on the radiator while the snow piles up on the window behind him. Actually, we are taking his lead, although our radiator is a cozy woodstove.