the sugaring :: part 2

Any guesses what we’re having for dinner?

{psst, looking for part 1?}

the sugaring :: part 1

:: neighbor’s drilling sends us scurrying outside to see the long-awaited tapping ::

:: sugar shack, nearly ready to come to life ::

:: season’s first sugar bush hike ::

:: syrup’s first stop ::

:: little one along for the ride ::

:: free to roam outside again — so beautifully free ::

the view from wednesday

:: been wanting a picture of this spot for weeks — we drive by it every time we leave the house — today I finally remembered my camera ::

:: more snow coming tonight ::

:: plucking pretty sheets during naptime for a big order of little skirts ::

:: 3 doors on this house — 1 of them was bound to end up this way — just so happens it’s the front door ::

(no really, come by anytime)

love this place.

After a nice little January thaw, we got some fluffy fresh snow last night.

I used to think that winter was so ugly. But out here, where there is so little to break the fields of snow and turn it into nasty gray slush, winter is breathtakingly beautiful.

Words like “picturesque” and “idyllic” keep popping up in the comments. And, well, I don’t mind telling you that it is just that.

R and I have been tossing around the idea of buying a home somewhere in the area. But it’s going to have to be a pretty cool house to drag me away from this one.

Interior photos soon (I know I keep saying that…). There is some really cool woodwork in the living room and I can’t seem to take photos that do it justice.

Have a warm and happy Wednesday, everyone!

vampire flags

Our prayer flags looked very sweet when we hung them this Fall.

Theoretically, it’s still Fall.

Except that our prayer flags seem to have grown vampire fangs.

(The wind is not blowing in this picture. They’re frozen that way.)

Unrelated, but R and I watched and enjoyed Food, Inc. tonight. It helped me make sense of a lot of my conflicting feels about food, particularly where monetary cost is involved. It’s a good primer if you’re curious about food choices.

security

The wood stove is the heart of our home. It sits in the center of the house, and when it’s roaring, the furnace never kicks on. I love building fires (though I’m not very good at it) — not because I’m a big pyro, but because almost always, one or both of the girls will stop what they’re doing to come snuggle with me and stare at the fire. Well melt my little mommy heart.

Anyway — the stove eats wood. It’s eaten nearly two cords in the month we’ve been here. So today, Andy the wood guy delivered a couple more cords (we didn’t believe him when he said we’d need 12 to get through the winter).

I had a hard time putting this pretty little log on the stack. I love all the mosses and lichens and ferns in the woods here.

Suddenly, security is starting to look a lot less like having a Target within a 15-mile radius — and more like a couple of cords of wood.

catching up

There are still plenty of corners in the house where unpacked boxes and stacks of I’ll-deal-with-it-later threaten to become part of the permanent scenery, but we are settled in enough that I’ve had a chance to catch up on quilting bee blocks and some other sew-y things that need doing.

Beulah, the neighborhood matriarch, had us over yesterday for a little visit. She is the most wonderful woman, and she knows everything about food in this neck of the woods that Local Harvest can’t tell you. Eggs? — Turn here and go to the end of the drive and walk down these stairs and through this door that looks broken and past the egg-cleaning machines and leave your money in the box. Beef? — Well goodness, Roger across the street has some! Let’s call him! — You want local food, ask your local matriarch.

Today was a mental health day; the girls had runny noses and I didn’t feel so great, either, so we watched the fire, watched the snow, and watched movies. We all perked up a bit by evening — I got out the pasta machine for the first time in almost two years, and the girls thought that was better entertainment than the TV. Tomorrow we’ll be out in search of snow boots, coats, cheese making supplies, and a source of local lamb. And maybe, if they’re lucky, the stacks of I’ll-deal-with-it-later will get a little lovin’, too.

new town

We are falling so hard for this place.

Our new home is just outside of a village that’s a long ways from anywhere with a stop light. Most people we’ve met have been here all their lives — generations, in some cases — and really, I can’t blame them for not leaving.

For one thing (and you know I’m loving this), eating locally is easy to do here — not because it’s some newfangled novelty, but because that’s just how they roll. Sharp white cheddar, zingy summer sausages, sweet maple syrup, fresh apple cider — the North Country is there for the eating, and we are devouring it.

Wide trails meander into the woods behind our house, rolling through a meadow, past a hidden shack our neighbor built with his dad when he was a kid, through thick stands of trees, passing by maple trees connected by a network of rubber tubing, waiting around for sugaring time in the spring.

There is so much to explore and learn and imagine here (and so much space to run!). For the first time in a very long time, I find myself utterly happy and content with where I live; not half-wishing I were somewhere else, but so ready to embrace this place and make it our home for as long as we can. It is so beautiful here. I can’t wait to show you around.

May your Sabbath be ever so wonder-full!