Sunday, January 22, 2012

The Christmas Diaries, Part 7

Hard work, and a little patience required
Santa Arrives Early (on a grader!), December 23rd 
It was zero at dawn, and fell to minus 3 before we’d finished our coffee.  We weren’t surprised -- a friend in Chicago had called and checked for us online while we were on the phone and the prediction was for even colder than that.  And the night had been clear, so no coverlet of clouds to keep in whatever heat we’d gained during the day.  With first light the birds hit the feeders and suet block hard, and Bob scattered some seed just to facilitate their breakfast.  The pines and firs were laden with snow caught up in their needles, but it was dry and powdery, and even a Mountain Chickadee hammering open a seed on a branch could send a plume of snow falling to the ground.  With no more snow predicted, we knew this was the epitome of our snowy Christmas -- and yes, it would be white (our first ever together).  
Heading down the driveway
It warmed up to around freezing in the early afternoon, so we bundled up and headed out for a good walk.  It felt terrific to stretch out our legs after and lazy day inside during the storm.  Bob did some shoveling, but abandoned it when we decided to break our way through the snow on the drive on foot and walk along the plowed road below the cabin.  The bright sun was just beginning to do its work, melting a bit of the snow off rocks and plants, and letting the evergreens lose some of their snow load, bough by bough.  We were pretty quick walking under snow filled trees, knowing we could end up getting quite a load of the cold white stuff dumped on us without much warning.  Pictures I’d taken a few days ago, impressed with the decoration of the four inches we’d gotten the day after arriving, were now totally obsolete with the addition of another 10 inches, so there was nothing to do but retake them.


Walkin' in a winter wonderland...
Last summer's rose hips
We made, at my suggestion, an ill-advised attempt to break through the snow to the meadow.  With us tripping over unseen rocks and snags under the snow and the dog floundering in what was chest deep snow for her, we gave it up and discussed getting snow-shoes for next year on the walk back to the cabin.  I’m a little bit more superstitious than my husband, or maybe feel that getting sucker-punched by The Universe is not outside the realm of possibilities, and I figured that getting snow-shoes would mean we’d never see much in the way of snow up here at Christmas again.  It is, we’ve been told, more unusual than it is usual to have a thoroughly white Christmas up here.  And I’d hate to mess with that.  But hey, what about a sled!


Snow and ice; rock and lichen
Shortly after we got home Santa arrived early for us in the guise of our neighbor with the road grader, making short work of clearing our driveway.  It was going to be a Merry Christmas.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

The Christmas Diaries, Part 6


Winter Wonderland, December 22nd 
No other name could apply.  We were living inside a snow globe.
It was still snowing at dawn and we had seven inches on flat surfaces around the cabin that had been cleared the day before.  It was 11 degrees, which sounds cold, and is, but so much better than the minus 13 we’d experienced last year.  We layered up, put the coat on the dog, and went outside to clear the decks and shovel a few paths around the cabin.  Bump went charging off down the drive, coming to an abrupt stop when the shoveled path ended and she met a near two foot wall of snow.  
Flocked with the real stuff
The birds were busy at the feeders, flitting around the deck chairs, sheltering underneath them.  One of them caught my eye...it looked familiar, but different somehow.  Our regular Gray-headed Junco had been joined by two other juncos, the Slate-colored Dark-eyed Junco and the White-winged Junco, neither of which I’d seen before.  A Junco Trifecta!  
Near the fire, a Kindle on your lap, a dog at your feet
and a snow-covered landscape outside...bliss!
It was a perfect day to stay inside near the fire, read, and watch the snow drift down.  The loft, always cosy and warm, had a puzzle of Colorado landmarks to be finished, and Bob was up to the task.  By sunset, shortly after 4 PM, the snow had stopped and it’s blanketing whiteness was as unmarred as it would be.  We counted ourselves lucky to have gotten a good snowstorm two years running, at least until we thought about how we’d get the car down the drive.  Oh well, we’ll worry about that some other day.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Christmas Diaries, Part 5


A snug cabin in which to ride out the storm

Storm Warning, December 21st 
It’s nice to welcome winter in a place that has the quintessential look and feel of winter.  Snow on the ground and dusting the evergreens, a nice contrast and keeping it from looking at all bleak as it might in some landscapes, the temperature in the low-20’s appropriately brisk, to say the least.  Our wireless weather station has flashing snowflakes displayed for a “future forecast” (bit of an oxymoron, me thinks).  The sky is clear and a light blue at the horizon, intensifying at the zenith.  We’re hoping for several hours outside again this afternoon, knowing it might be the last comfortable outside time we get for several days.
Prepared
There’s a winter storm watch on from this afternoon and through tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night and into the following day.  We could get nothing, or we could get the 2-5 inches they’re predicting, or we could get more.  Most assuredly we’ll dip down into single digits (on either side of zero degrees), but our cabin is so snug (thank you builder Brian), and our wood supply is essentially endless.  We’re provisioned well for a month (less well until the spring thaw).  We have little to worry about with a storm, and that is more than offset by the excitement (weather junkies that we are).  We have two big bookshelves filled with fiction, non-fiction, and reference books on nature and cooking, Kindles loaded up with reading material, an absolutely full iPod, NPR on the radio, one DVD to watch on the computer (Snowflower and the Secret Fan), jigsaw puzzles, games, two laptops, a sewing machine with projects galore, three different places to nap (the loft is the warmest), a phone to call family and friends, the chains on the SUV, a good dog, and binoculars near every window for bird watching.  And, thank goodness, we truly enjoy our own and each other’s company.
Sharing the road for a bit
After lunch the temperature climbed to near 40, so we put on a couple of layers plus our fleece vests and headed out for a pre-snowstorm walk.  It had clouded up and was looking quite gray in the northwest, so we knew we wouldn’t be going far.  We headed down the drive and up the main road in the opposite direction to Tuesday’s walk with our happy dog trotting out ahead.  We rounded a corner and found a neighbor’s dog lying in the road, keeping an eye on things.  He joined our dog for half a mile or so and then scenting with his nose deep in some tracks in the snow, headed off into the forest.  Bump took a few tentative steps to follow him, ended up in chest deep snow, and thought better of it, rejoining us on the road.  About a mile along we turned back into an freshening breeze and a darkening sky, and retraced our steps.  The snow scrunched underfoot, and with the increasing chill we were glad to get back to the warm cabin.
This way home...or maybe
we'll walk the driveway
It started snowing around 4 PM, and half an hour later we had an inch on the deck and were losing sight of the features across the valley.  We know that landscape so well that as it disappeared from view we still thought we could see the ghost of the mountain forming our horizon, but it was gone.  I took extra pleasure in making us a hot dinner -- oven roasted potatoes and a Greek veggie-tofu scramble -- which we devoured with a glass of Malbec.  The evening was spent with the porch lights on, watching the snow thicken and the depth increase.  We went to sleep snug under the quilt, unable to shake the vision of swirling wind-driven snow, wondering what we’d see when we looked outside in the morning.


Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Christmas Diaries, Part 4


Snowy dawn

Ten Years Ago Today, December 20th
Dawn brought a winter wonderland scene of snow-flocked evergreens and a cloudless sky.  Sometime in the night it had actually warmed up to 16 degrees - a heat wave.  It was clear that at least another inch of snow had fallen during the night, bringing the total  to three or four inches over 24 hours.  There is nothing quite so lovely as a blanket of freshly fallen snow, sparkling in the sun.  It made me think of this same day, ten years ago, the day I arrived in Tucson to take up residence.  This is at odd place to be on that anniversary, at a high elevation cabin in the Colorado Rockies surrounded by snow, but there is a connection.  I’m here with the man, now my husband, who was my neighbor and the first person I met in Tucson, ten years ago today.  As they say, nowhere in my wildest dreams...
Arrival in Tucson, December 20th, 2001
Our cabin retreat, December 20th, 2011
At mid-morning we heard some sort of vehicle, the first we’d heard since our arrival.  We got out the front door just in time to see our neighbor, the site manager of the adjacent retreat, heading back down our drive plowing our road.  This is one of those things I so love about being here at the cabin and in such a remote location.  Neighbors are much more likely to lend a hand, and to do it without being asked or negotiation.  And it all works out.  My husband has helped this neighbor by teaching a few units of science to his home schooled kids, and I’ve baked the cookies that are the post-lesson treats.  We help other neighbors move wood and get hand carved bears in return.  Baked goods change hands, and there’s always a hot cup of tea or cold beer for anyone dropping by.  
Icing
By noon the temperature was just above freezing so we put on a few layers, boots and hats, got the coat on Bump and headed out for a walk.  With the long driveway cleared walking was easy and pleasant, and it felt good to move after being two days in the car and a snowy day inside the cabin.  We headed down the road enjoying our frisky dog’s antics and the warm sun on our backs.  Last summer’s fields of wildflowers were now carpeted in smooth snow, unmarked except for the occasional string of wildlife tracks.  Caps of snow helped define the rocky outcrops.  You could hear the creek gurgling under it’s iced-over top.  
Back at home after an easy two mile ramble it was, at 36 degrees, way too nice to go inside.  We decided to hang our one string of outdoor colored Christmas lights, and made a quick job of it, and still didn’t want to go inside.  I have little experience with snow aside from living in Michigan until I was nine years old, so I am alway surprised how sitting in a sheltered sunny spot in a snowy, near-freezing landscape can be so blissful.  Our south-facing porch is just such a spot on a calm day.  With the afternoon sun low in the sky we sat in sweaters on the Adirondack chairs, basking like lizards, soaking in the sun and were totally comfortable.  Even our once snow-phobic dog settled down in four inches of it just off the deck, laying in the sun.  But the minute the sun got near to setting behind the mountain across the valley, the sun’s rays diffusing through the tops of the pines and firs, we began to feel the chill.

A vegan dinner, the better to have more anniversaries

Retreating inside on this last day of fall, celebrating my arrival in Tucson and our first meeting, we made a dinner of roasted portobello mushrooms stuffed with a savory mix of brown rice, lentils, and cashews mixed with fresh parley and lemon thyme I’d harvested from our Tucson herb garden, and braised brussel sprouts.  We poured some wine and reminisced about the crazy set of circumstances that brought and kept us together.  Neither one of us could have imagined anything more unlikely, or so right.  It almost makes you believe in fate.  We count ourselves very, very lucky.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

The Christmas Diaries, Part 3


Let it snow!

Deck the Halls, December 19th  
After a good 8+ hour sleep we woke up to clouds rolling in with the first few tiny snowflakes falling.  Before long the mountain across the valley disappeared in the snow and low clouds, and over the course of the day the snowfall increased, the light powder blowing off the trees and roof in displays of aerodynamic physics.  We put out seed feeders and a suet block for the birds, and didn’t have to wait long for them to show up.  Stellar’s Jays, Mountain Chickadees, White-breasted Nuthatches, Juncos, and and Downy Woodpeckers were soon sheltering in the ponderosa pines near the feeder.  The larger Hairy Woodpecker rode the suet block, hung from our hanging basket hook, like it was a Tilt-a-Whirl.

Bump the Snow Dog, decked out herself!
Homemade soup with Tina's great whole wheat bread
We spent the day reveling in being at the cabin, fortifying ourselves with good from-scratch food like oatmeal with tart dried cherries and toasted walnuts and a sturdy vegetable soup with red lentils and ruffled campanelle pasta eaten with a fantastic loaf of home-made whole wheat bread given to us by our Tucson friend, Tina.  We got out the Kindles and read by the fire, watching the snow swirl outside.  The temperature had descended all day, from 24 degrees at dawn to 11 degrees at bedtime -- and it was hard to get our desert dog, the one with no undercoat, but a real cute over-coat from L.L.Bean, to go outside to do the necessaries.  We all bundled up and took a few chilly walks to the top of the saddle, returning covered in snowflakes, and ready to warm up by the fire.  But we had one other “chore” to get done, one we’d been looking forward to...decking the halls.

Getting started with Frank Sinatra singing carols on the iHome
Last Christmas, for our first stay at the new cabin, we’d brought up a retro-style three-foot tall white Christmas tree with multi-color fairy lights and a tote full off decorations, some new, some old, and most from some fun scavenger hunts at Tucson thrift stores.  We’d loaded some favorite Christmas music on our iPod and played Frank Sinatra for me and John Denver and The Muppets for Bob...our respective traditional tree-trimming music from the days when we shared that job with our children.  With the tree up and decorated, the window sills festooned, and glittery snowflakes hanging throughout the cabin, we broke out some wine, and watched the snow in the fading light, the reflection of our tree hanging specter-like in the front window, merging with the darkening ponderosas outside.  

Finished
We ended the day continuing the Rummikub game we’ve been playing since May of 2006 (our first summer stay at the old trailer); at some point in the distant past I was ahead, but now I am hopelessly behind, but it’s fun and I get whining rights.  My husband is gently triumphant in his near constant victories.  We are nearing the bottom of the second side of the old steno-book page, a relic from Bob’s Dad’s court reporter days, and I wonder if it isn’t time to start anew.  Or, as Bob suggested, we could just get out Blokus and I could whip him consistently for a change.  At least I’m not throwing Uno cards across the table as I have been known to do, albeit with a smile on my face.

Ho, Ho, Home...



The Christmas Diaries, Part 2


Last year's raspberries casting their late afternoon shadows on the snow

Arrival...Sunday, December 18th
We did our typical trying-to-get-somewhere early morning wake-up at the motel, checked in with each other -- “Are you going back to sleep?  Me neither. Let’s go.” -- and were on the road by 5 AM.  We gassed up at Circle K, got coffees, and dug into our friend Geri’s Christmas present of zucchini bread before we’d hit I-25 North.  In the pre-dawn we congratulated ourselves on missing the blizzard that was coming through this area this evening, a blizzard that would, in fact, eventually close Raton Pass, our passage into Colorado.  At first light you could see the snow-chalked ground below the pinon pines and juniper, the white horizontal striping of the mesa ledges.  With some Windham Hill Christmas music collections playing, we watched it get light, enchanted with the snowy scene.  Our excitement mounted with every passing mile.
After a quick stop at our favorite Chinese restaurant in Woodland Park, The May Flower, we went on to Florissant, turned north, and soon hit dirt roads.  They were a bit snow-packed in places, so it was a slow trip in, but beautiful.  It felt like we’d been away for a few days instead of 10 weeks.  When we’d left in early October our neighbor had been fly fishing on the lake below the cabin; now they were ice fishing (and had a beautiful big rainbow trout to show for it) and ice skating through the powder that had fallen over the frozen lake.  
It was all good until we hit our driveway, much of it covered in nearly a foot of snow.  Someone, thank goodness, had driven up fairly recently, so we had their tracks to help navigate the steep, near quarter mile to the cabin.  We made a few runs at it, having to back up a time or two to get further along the unplowed drive.  When the cabin was in sight we decided to leave the car for a bit and hike on up through the snow, anxious to make sure the cabin was alright and that we had power and heat and no frozen pipes.  It proved to be in fine and welcoming shape, relatively warm inside (mid-50’s) thanks in part to the low angle of the sun flooding the cabin with light and the propane heater set to low just to keep the cabin, and its pipes, safe.  
It was great to arrive at a cabin that was fully ready to be occupied.  Both last Christmas and last summer we had either no, or not enough, furniture and there was much moving in and organizing to do.  This time it was turn-key ready, or as turn-key as a cabin like this can be.  We got all the power on, went down in the crawl space and turned on the well pump, checked for leaks, and got a fire going in the wood-burning stove.  My husband went back down the hill and finally managed to get the car up the drive (next time the chains will be put on before trying), and unloaded.  There was a ton of stuff to put away, fire-wood to be hauled up, and totes and duffles to be stowed, but we found time to sit for a short time on the front deck, a bit of a heat trap, where it was, oddly, sweater weather.  It was a mild day with a high in the low 40’s, and we knew the next day would be different, with a predicted high in the 20’s and a few inches of snow.  Perfect!
After an early dinner of some chili I’d made in Tucson and brought up in our cooler, we were in bed by 8 PM -- not so surprising when it gets dark at 5 PM -- and we slept the deep sleep of arriving home after a 900 mile journey.

The Christmas Diaries, Part 1


Somewhere...yawn...along I-25 heading north to Albuquerque


Departure...Saturday, December 17th
After waiting for 10 weeks to return to the cabin, it seemed there was a great deal to do at the last minute.  I’d decided to provision everything we’d need for two weeks before leaving, and when I started packing I wondered if we’d be able to fit it into our Honda CRV.  In the end Bump, our dog, had to be content with just over half of the backseat, and we were on the road early than we’d expected.  The seven hour run to Albuquerque is, frankly, a little boring, but it was good to get there and get settled.  We did have a treat spotting Sand Hill Cranes both flying south and on the ground in open fields along the Rio Grande Valley.  We knew that soon after heading north the next morning, we’d hit the pinon pine forests, rolling hills, buttes and mesas around Santa Fe, and it would be great scenery for the rest of the trip.