For the Curious

I think we're out of the woods.  I hope. 

My mom recently said she was surprised that I hadn't posted more pictures of the snow.  I said I didn't want to think about it anymore.  Now that I can hear the birds singing outside, can smell melting water in the air, and the sun has been shining, I think it's safe to take a look...  

These photos are for those who are curious to know what exactly happened to the Northeast this winter.  Maybe you've never lived here in the winter, or perhaps you've moved away from the Northeast and have been feeling sorry for us or just curious as to what all the commotion is all about.  A handful of these are before and after shots that I just happened to take (because I do often take pictures of the same thing).

Hopefully, though I don't want to speak to soon, this is the end of a very snowy chapter. 

Tomorrow is March - Hooray! 

Back when things were bright and blue

Iced up

Piles and piles

There's the recyclables

Covered

Halfway up the fence...

Higher!

Thought it might be done...

Ah!

Back when things were all pumpkin

Before the next blizzard

Pretty

All the tools

Plow plow plow

Neighbors

Our front door

Poor house

Love when the sidewalks are cleared

Stop!

Up to the porch

Up to the garage

Windy February

Over the fence

Bigger than a car

Make way

The dead of winter

Ski to the bar

Thaw!

Up the Stairs

Ghost Town

Snowshoe to the bar

Good morning Sun and icicles.

This house always seems like a hobbit home to me.

Sledding hill

Down the drain you go!

I feel like this sign was a new addition.

Covering a three season porch.

Salty Slushy Muddy

Layer Cake

When walking felt like bouldering. 

Lonnnnnng icicles

Lovely night to sit outside.

Portsmouth is still pretty.

Eerie evening and a FREEZING cold walk.

Thaw

"...as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before." - Mr. Darcy, Pride and Prejudice

I'm afraid it is too soon to yell from the mountain tops, but I did feel a spirit of Spring in the air this morning when I started my car and it didn't sound like a garbage compactor with something lodged inside it.  

I opened my door to the smell of water - wet puddles growing along the road.  I saw pavement on our street that has otherwise been a luge runway.  I could run out and start my car without a jacket.  My hands didn't break into a million pieces without gloves on.  Water is dripping off the long icicles above our doorway.  Slush has taken the place of icy snowy embankments.  

Hope is a practice.  It's moments like this where I remember the importance of hope in all things.  It's not an emotion to cover all sins, but one to carry you through to new light even if the tunnel seems particularly long and dark.  

My friend gave me a book of poems by Mary Oliver, which I've been reading through lately and pasting on this blog.  Funny enough, one of my favorite podcasts On Being has recently recorded her reading her poems herself.   

They are here and they are lovely. 

May we all hope for the thaw of so many things. 

Igloo

What a good friend.

I just read an article about the catastrophe of a winter it has been - a natural disaster of a winter.  I know large amounts of snow fall in other parts of the country, but I've never seen this many blizzards in a row here, piling inches on inches, and derailing so many of Boston's (not to mention it's neighboring regions) operations.  It's not as if we're not used to winters, but this one has been the one to top them all.  I've never felt so snowed in.  

Tonight, I got to see the mountains of salt being brought in by boat to Portsmouth.  The machines looked majestic in the lights from the street - piling salt on top of salt, ready for the streets.  Let's hope they don't need it all and that perhaps we've been through the worst of it.  Here's a poem to remind us of the beauty that Winter can be and that it will melt away one day... perhaps not soon... but one day... 

November

Mary Oliver

The snow

began slowly,

a soft and easy

sprinkling

of flakes, then clouds of flakes

in the baskets of the wind

and the branches

of the trees --

oh, so pretty.

We walked

through the growing stillness,

as the flakes

prickled the path,

then covered it,

then deepened

as in curds and drifts,

as the wind grew stronger,

shaping its work

less delicately,

taking greater steps

over the hills

and through the trees

until, finally,

we were cold, 

and far from home.

We turned

and followed our long shadows back

to the house.

stamped our feet,

went inside, and shut the door.

Through the window

we could see

how far away it was to the gates of April.

Let the fire now

put on its red hat

and sing to us.

Winter Storm Review

In honor of Winter Storm Linus

Here's what I remember, for January:

1/12 Wintry Mix moving up the East Coast causing me to delay driving up from NJ
1/18 Snow/Ice Storm leaving me stranded in Burlington, VT (not complaining)
1/24 Snow all day causing plans with MA friends (to visit!) to be de-railed
1/27 Blizzard Juno arrives, canceling classes on 1/27 & 1/28 (not complaining)
1/30 Snow flurries for most of the day, adding a few inches

In summary: Every 3-6 days, a wintry mix of some variety arrives in New England.

Things I have heard or said over the past week or so:

"I think my feet sweat in my boots and then the sweat got cold, so now they're cold again."

"Look at my hands!"
"Oh my gosh!  They're so red!"
"And dry... so dry."

"There's water pouring through a hole in our foundation."
"It sounds like we have a man-made pond down in the basement."
"It sounds like a waterfall."

"This chocolate is frozen." (Lindt truffles left in the car)

"I can't believe the water froze that quickly... well, actually I can." (Nalgene bottle just place in the car)

"You're car is on a sheet of ice."

"Who dumped this huge bucket of snow on our house?"

"I hope the power doesn't go out."

"The water in my shower just turned freezing cold!"

"What was that?!"
"I think it was a huge chunk of snow that just blew off that car."

"I'm not confident that they plow or salt the roads in NH."

"It doesn't matter what you're driving, when you hit black ice... you hit black ice."

"Open the door, open the door!" (to the car, while freezing)

"I don't understand why water is rushing down our driveway - isn't it too cold for it to be melting?"

"I feel bad for my car."

"When I start thinking about Winter, I realize how much I don't like it.  So, I can't think about it."

"So glad it's snowing again!"

Winter storm Linus should be joining us tomorrow, followed by another one on Wednesday.

Let's hope Linus leaves his warm blanket behind for us.