All Blogged Up: A Moof’s Tale -

All Blogged Up: A Moof’s Tale

Delicate Elegance – Deadly Enchantment

December 16th, 2008

On Thursday night, I brought my laptop into the kitchen, and sat in front of the wood stove to stay warm. So far, my usual Thursday night routine had gone along smoothly. I was having a nice evening chat with Small Town Doc … harassing him in between patients, enjoying the teasing camaraderie we share. At the stroke of 11 PM, I plugged my headphones into my laptop, and prepared to call Hans Engel, another Thursday night ritual. When it’s 11 PM on the east coast, it’s 8 PM on the west coast. Thursday is one of the days that Hans doesn’t have dialysis, and I know that I won’t interrupt his supper by calling at that time.

It was a nice, cozy evening. I was feeling nice and toasty in front of the warm stove, and I was starting to settle in for a peaceful relaxed chat with two of my dearest friends. I could hear the “tick tingle” of the freezing rain hitting the window panes, but it didn’t worry me; for the moment, I was warm, and content to be with my friends.

Just as I brought up my Skype program to click on Hans’ phone number, the power blinked … twice, three times … and the internet vanished. Dougie checked to see what the problem was, and discovered that the blinking power had crashed the modem. He rebooted, and I finally made my call to Hans.

As he and I happily chatted, I began to hear what sounded like explosions nearby. I text messaged STDoc and Dougie – telling them what I thought I was hearing. Who would be out in the woods shooting off a deep, booming shotgun at 11 PM at night in the middle of an ice storm?!

Okay … so maybe I was too warm and comfy, and it was making me a bit, ummm, slow … but I still managed to have a wonderful chat with Hans. After disconnecting from the call, I went back into the bedroom with my laptop, and wished STDoc a peaceful and quiet day at work … he’s been known to be a bit overzealous in his work *cough*.

I lay down and tried to sleep, knowing that Friday was going to be a very busy day. I had no less than 3 doctor’s appointments, in 3 different towns, and I was a bit concerned about the slippery roads; I wanted to wake up early enough to be at my best before I had to tackle the tricky driving.

As I was dozing off, I heard my oldest son, Darian, come into the house and tell Dougie that the “Guinea Road” was on fire. Nosy Moofie couldn’t pass that up … remembering the explosions, I got out of bed to find out what was happening. Apparently, the ice storm was getting pretty bad – a road adjacent to ours had a pretty good fire started. The power transformers were exploding and burning, setting fire to the tree limbs around them. At the same time, the weight of the ice was breaking other limbs, and they were falling onto the power lines, dropping live wires onto the freezing road.

I headed back to bed feeling a bit concerned. It was just before midnight, and we still had power …

At 3:30 AM, Doug woke up at his usual time … he usually leaves home at 4:30 AM to get to work by 5:30. This time, he woke me up, and told me that he wasn’t going to try to get to work. We had lost power by then, and he was relatively certain that the outages were widespread. I wondered how he knew that as I dozed back off … and although I never did find out how that knowledge was transmitted to him even before he got out of bed, I did find out that he was right. More than right, in fact …

… Daylight revealed the most surreal crystalline wasteland I’ve seen in more than a decade. There were safety cones in front of our home, blocking our driveway … the power lines were laying in the road. We had no phone, no electricity, no internet (ACK!) … no running water.

I looked out of the window, groaned loudly, and went back to sleep. I knew I wouldn’t be making my 10:30 AM appointment in Exeter. We’d had a hard time landing that one, too. Ah well … Mother Nature really could care less …

By late morning, it became obvious that no one was going anyplace – for a good while. Over a battery powered radio, we discovered that more than 1,000,000 people in Maine and New Hampshire were without power. The list of cancellations went on … and on … and on. The word was that power would most likely not be fully restored for as long as a week.

People were encouraged to try to get to a local shelter … all at the same time as they were told to stay home and not try to navigate the 1/2″ of ice covering all of the streets – and everything else in sight.

Perverse individual that I am, I relaxed into the experience. For us, the power outage would simply be an inconvenience. We have no heat other than the wood stove, and that wasn’t affected by the storm … we would be no colder than usual. We ran the farm’s tractor and generator long enough to fill all of our liquid containers with water, and we were pretty much all set. We did our best to stay warm, and if the complaints we were hearing on the radio were any sign, we were more comfortable than most everyone else. Going on four years of experience … … … for us, it was a lot like just more of the same.

On Saturday, Dougie made some chili from scratch, and cooked it on the wood stove. The smell was enough to drive us over the edge all day … but at suppertime, we were rewarded for our patience with some of the best chili we’d ever had.

Sunday morning, the temperatures had gone down into the low teens (about -11.11C) and even the oil for the oil lamps had frozen. We spent the day relaxing in front of the wood stove, chatting, and napping. I was starting to get used to the quiet … ;o)

Sunday night, Dougie and I put a blanket and some pillows down on the kitchen floor, in front of the wood stove. We lay on the floor and watched about 5 episodes of Heroes on the Nintendo DS … until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.

Monday … started out very quiet. I was wishing for a nice hot shower … but I was still quite happy to run around in my sweat suit, housecoat, and blanket, and a baaaaad bed head.

The power was restored at 3:30 PM on Monday. I was glad for the lights … for the running water … and especially for the internet ( YES! ) … but a small part of me left bad that we would be leaving the quiet down time behind.

Amazingly, as far as I know, we’ve had only 2 local deaths due to the ice storm. One fellow died of carbon monoxide poisoning when he brought a generator into his house, and another fellow, an elderly man who needed oxygen, passed away. The radios warned people to take those in such precarious medical conditions to a shelter … apparently this fellow didn’t go.

Below are some of the photos that Dougie took on Saturday. He did a great job …. and I wanted to share them with you.

I will be posting again soon, picking up from where I left off on the last post. The problem is that quite a few things have happened since then … and I’m going to have to back up quite a bit to give you the entire picture.

And now … until the next time, be well, my dear blog friends.


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IceStorm2008

Glazed grape vines decorate the frozen landscape like a festoon of crystal ribbons.

Icy sentinels gleaming in the sunshine – silent witnesses to a crystalline world

IceStorm2008

IceStorm2008

A frozen beatitude of gleaming limbs raised in silent prayer

Short ice encrusted corn stalks enhance the surreal quality of the encroaching crystallized trees

IceStorm2008

IceStorm2008

From the tallest tree, to the tiniest blade of grass … surrealism to the tiniest detail

Grape vines – sporting a gleaming coat of ice. They seem to be decked out in their most elegant finery.

IceStorm2008

IceStorm2008

Blades of winter grass, encased in a transparent tomb of diamond and light.

Harlequin Fall

October 7th, 2007

A pallid sun sets behind a conflagration of slowly crisping leaves,
which emanate an agony of color against the inky miasma of encroaching darkness.

The call of a bird – a stark, bone dry cry against the bleakness of the fading sky,
startles the senses.

Another night spreads its icy fingers across the landscape,
drawing away warmth like yesterday’s abandoned dreams.

The warmth and green of endless afternoons underneath a gilded orb
belong to another world, another place … another reality.
The endless … has ended. The orb flickers … fades … dims …

… and dies.

Colors fade … silent cries of summers gone
echo vainly against the cold,velvet gloom.

Harlequin fall …
masking the encroaching lifeless sea of white barren torment.
You are the bright deluder … the foul harbinger of hiemal barenness,
concealing the passing of summer’s mild mirth
with your delusory radiance.

Fair and false, false and fair … fall.


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Fall07_01

Fall07_02

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Fall07_02

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Along a Woodland Trail

June 30th, 2007

After spending the entire morning, and a good part of the afternoon doing a blogrun, I decided that I needed some fresh air. Doug begins a two week break today, and I asked him if he would be interested in getting outside a bit … to my delight, he agreed. And so – off we went, down the edges of the corn field, and on into the woods for a nice woodland trek. We took a few photos, and I thought I would share them with you …


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Woodland Ferns

Soon after we vanished into the woods, we came upon this tiny clearing. It was full of ferns. They made such a lovely backdrop that I had to snap a shot. I’ve accumulated a large number of lovely photos this summer; I’m using quite a few of them as desktop backgrounds. Most of them are flowers. I’m thinking of posting them all as a separate photo study. If anyone wants any shots they see – let me know the size of your desktop, and I’ll send them to you by email.

When I looked up from the gorgeous ferns, I was confronted by what can only be described as a wild man – a denizen of the deep forests and wilderness paths. I couldn’t help but think of how uncannily like Doug he looked! *blink*

Wild Man

Dewberry

On the dappled forest floor, underneath the trailside growth, hides a tiny dewberry – stark red in so much green.

The forest is riddled with old, crumbled down stone walls. At one time, these woods were fields, and early farmers pastured their herds in them. Stone walls marked the boundaries. Now, what’s left of all of their work is a line of stones, hidden by moss and leaves – vanishing into the underbrush.

Stone Wall

Stone Wall and Tree

This is the same stone wall as the one in the above picture, from a different angle. What you’re seeing is the roots from an old tree which was once growing on the stone wall, and which fell prey to age and time, perhaps with the help of a storm. The roots, which still have rocks from the wall embedded here and there, rise like a gate beside the path.

Tiny red Pigeon berries and blossoms decorate a dappled forest floor. To the middle right, a Checkerberry tempts me with its wintergreen flavored leaves.

Pigeon berry

Forest

The silent, peaceful forest … home to whispering breezes, bird song, and the chittering of little squirrels, who like to remind you that you’re intruding into their domain. The only thing prettier than sunlight dappling a woodland floor, is sunlight dancing on an open lake.

With the quiet coolness of the woods behind us, Birdsfoot Trefoil lines the path home with bright and cheerful color.

Birdsfoot Trefoil

Blue spruce

Blue spruce rise majestically into the sky, filling the air with an aromatic piney scent, and gladdening the eye with unusual blue needles.

A Sudden Rush of Color

May 22nd, 2007

In the last few years, I’ve become a homebody. I seldom step outside unless I’m up at our camp. We’ve always had gardens, but these last two years, we haven’t been able to get out there, and make that happen. I can actually go for weeks on end without leaving the house

However …

In the last week or so, a sudden rush of color which came pouring in through my windows has enticed me to move beyond my usual confines. The scents and hues … the crisp spring air, all held me captive as soon as I gave in to the urge.

I wanted to share a few of the more captivating sights with you. I only wish I could also share the delicate, intoxicating scents …


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Robin Runaway

These little flowers, called Robin Runaways, are common all along the east coast of the US. They’re probably also seen elsewhere, but I’d have to research that to be certain. These have been greatly magnified. They’re very tiny, delicate little flowers that are often found in shady spots.

This is a close up of an apple blossom. The tiny petals seemed impossibly delicate, and the scent was unforgettably sweet. These flowers only grace us in the earliest spring, when the air is still as crisp as their fruit will be.

Apple Blossom

Violets

Tiny Violets hide the green grass, humble and demure … willing to allow all of that delicate beauty to be crushed underfoot by any passerby. Ah! Tiny Violet! What a lesson your life could be to those who would listen.

Daffodils make me happy. All I need to do is look at their smiling faces, and it makes me happy. Their cheerful countenance is like a promise of summer days and sunshine.

Daffodil

Lilacs double

Spring in New England means lilacs gracing us with their beauty, and their fragrances filling the air. The odor reaches right into our homes, and draws us out of our winter cocoons, where we stand hesitantly in the warming daylight, and become intoxicated with odors too sweet to describe. These lilacs are “doubles” … each tiny fleurette has double petals.

Even tinier and daintier than an apple blossom, these Bartlett Pear blossoms covered our small pear tree this spring. It’s amazing that something that starts out so tiny can produce such a large, tasty fruit.

Pear blossom

Lilacs white

These white lilacs are single petaled, and far more common than the doubles. In spite of that, their fragrance is no less heady, and their blossoms are no less attractive. The scent is surprisingly intense for such a delicate flower.

The lowly Lily of the Valley, here dressed in a robe of pink. These are usually white, but my husband’s aunt gave me a few coveted pink roots when I first moved into the farm, and now they grace the base of our hickory tree, intermingling with the violets and the Robin Runaway. These are, in my opinion, the sweetest smelling flowers of all. I even prefer these to roses, although I also have a deep love for those.

Lily of the Valley - Pink

Violets And Robin Runaway

Violets peep out from between the Robin Runaway. Ah! The things we could see if only stopped to look …

These are Asian Pear blossoms, and I saved them for last. This is one of the photos that’s been gracing my desktop for the last couple of weeks. I think that the Asian Pear is the prettiest of all of the fruit blossoms. They were the very first flowers to greet me this spring, and I had to forcibly prevent myself from picking them all to bring them into the house with me.

Asian Pear Blossoms




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