opening day

jessi.bryan on flickr

Cloudy & 40 degrees. Wearing sneakers on the morning walk. Bird with a stick in its beak flying over the office. Bluebirds nesting in the back. Vernal lakes forming along the Otter Creek near Brandon in the usual places. Opening day of the baseball season. Go Giants!

It's what you learn after
you know it all that counts.
Earl Weaver
Zen page a day calendar

crocuses

Mud season has started on the roads. Lane is soupy during the middle of the day, still frozen at night. Open water on the Otter Creek. Crocuses at the Zen Center. Sound of a motorcycle.

cosmos

M64 BViHalpha on Google Images

In has been unseasonably cold the last few days, 17 degrees this morning. The upside is that it we have had brilliant sun during the days, and crystal clear nights. Pete & I went out Saturday night for some star gazing. A couple of friends who had shown some real interest in astronomy were invited to join us. Pete did a fabulous job of introducing them to the wonders to be observed in the night sky; the Orion nebula, star clusters, globular clusters, and more. I was even able to bag a couple of pelts for my Messier catalog collection, M's 64 & 53, just by accident I guess. We ended up taking a gander at Saturn, proudly gleaming in the southeast. It was the perfect ending to the evening, my feet were freezing.

I saw both of these guys yesterday. They were both very jazzed about the experience, and grateful for Pete's efforts and expertise in introducing them to the inexpressible grandeur of the cosmos. So was I. Thanks Pete.

If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how men would believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile. Ralph Waldo Emerson

M53 by russcope.net on Google Images

syrup

Trucks with gathering tanks observed on Route 7. Sugaring at Dakin Farms in Ferrisburg.

March 27, 2009
30's and foggy. Took a walk up the crossroads last night. As I started out, I saw steam rising from Eric May's sugar house. I was happy to notice the first signs of sugaring I'd seen all year. As I got near the top, there was a pickup truck parked on the side of the road with its lights on. It was Justin Turco out collecting sap with his daughter. I met him as I was walking by, and he invited me to his sugar house. He said to go on in, and he would be along in a minute. Walking across the bridge over the creek in front of his house; bright lights from the sugar house ahead of me in the rainy gloom. His wife Tammy was in sugaring-that smell! She gave me some hot syrup to sample, a taste of Vermont heaven. We had a great visit. The lights were on in the Johnson's sugar house at the bottom of the hill on my return home; sparks shooting out of the chimney looked like stars in the sky. I realized there are four working sugar houses within walking distance of our place. I think I am going to have pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast in the morning.

appaloosa

Actual green grass appearing over by production. Spring issue of Vermont Life magazine arrives in the stores. Daffodils from the American Cancer Society brighten offices at work. Snow darkens as it turns to slush, and fades away. Patches of snow & bare ground sometimes resemble the coat of an appaloosa.

There is not a sprig of grass that shoots uninteresting to me.
Thomas Jefferson
Zen page a day calendar

mysterious-or not

In the spring and the fall, with temperatures around freezing, there are some very interesting thermodynamic phenomena that take place. In some places there's snow, and in some places there isn't. There is snow where it's been piled up by the plows. There's snow along fence lines, and in depressions in fields where snow can collect. There's snow on north facing slopes; that's easy to understand. There's more snow on east facing slopes than west facing. Even that's not really hard to figure out. It is colder in the mornings when east facing slopes get more direct sunlight, and warmer when the west facing slopes get direct sunlight.
On the sidewalk at work, however, about 4/5ths of the walk can be snow free while the remaining fifth harbors ice or snow or both. The snowy section is about 5 feet lower in elevation, and on a slightly different angle. Could that make a difference? I have seen at least a couple of places on roads where the straight sections are snow free, and curved sections are snowy. Sometimes the bridge next to our house will be without snow while the areas on either side will contain snow.
It is fun, at this time of year, to be able to figure out the physics behind the observable phenomena. But it is actually more satisfying to observe patterns that are totally unexplainable.

here & gone

Deviant Brainwave on flickr

We went out to dinner on Friday night with the Blodgett's. We met them in the parking lot at the Price Chopper in West Rutland. While we were waiting, we faced the southeast, and watched the nearly full moon rise in the twilight. The sky had a purplish cast with some pink/red highlights from the setting sun. The moon was a light yellow. The pastel shades made me think of Easter.
When we came out after dinner, the sky was partly cloudy. The clouds were mostly dark, but streaked with bright silver on the sides from the light of the moon. I opened the curtains in the bedroom to be closer to the light of a beautiful night when retiring.
On Saturday night I went out to view the "Super" moon, supposedly about 14% larger than normal. I remembered that Jupiter and Mercury were supposed to be visible in the western sky. I was finally able to view Mercury through some tree branches from a distant maple, but I never did find Jupiter. I think it has finally faded away. Jupiter has been a constant companion for months now, probably close to a year. I remember seeing it in the southeast, and watching it slowly drift across the evening sky until its disappearance the other night. Eventually it will reappear in the morning, but those 4:00 viewings will be few and far between as evidenced by the infrequent sightings of Venus lately, also an early morning riser. I actually feel the loss of Jupiter. It's kind of like a child going away to college. It's nice to know that eventually Jupiter will reappear in the evening skies. I just don't know when.

crystaline nuggets

Starting my fifth year on this-whatever it is.

3/21/07
AM thermometer went past zero, maybe for the last time this year? Snow mushy during the day, freezes at night; little crystaline nuggets in the morning. John home from D.C. today. New moon with Venus above.

robin

Lang Elliott on Google Images

Saw two robins the other day.

3/25/08

A couple of revealing moments about life in a cold climate. This morning on our walk, we ran into Barb & we all commented about how it was getting lighter out. About two minutes later we were walking by Cacky's house. I heard a high pitched, repetitive sound. I couldn't figure out what it was. It sounded like maybe a squeaky fan that might be running in their basement. Finally, it dawned on me what was making that sound. It was a single bird singing to the rising sun. In a few weeks, there will be hundreds of birds doing the same thing. It has been so long since I had heard that sound. It seemed like a miracle!
To a lesser degree, I experienced the same feeling yesterday walking over to production. The snow on the lawn has been receding, and it disappeared completely over the weekend. That which had been covered with snow, and invisible for so long was revealed. Again, it seemed like a miracle.
On the one hand, there's something a little pathetic about living in a place where a singing bird is considered a miracle. On the other hand, it's a gift. Complacency is one of the greatest killers of the joy of living. Living in a cold climate continues to offer opportunities to appreciate and savor the small miracles of life. In many ways that is the heart of this daily journal.
Opossum seen along the road in West Rutland.

stubble

Open water appearing on Wood's Pond in Brandon. Snow is gone from the picnic table at work. Corn stubble is reappearing from under the snow. At this time of year, it's usually cold, dark, and wet. It feels like the world is giving birth to itself.

girl scout cookies!

planetc1 on flickr

The snow is melting. Water coming into the basement. Water in the roads from melting & sump pumps; black ice in the morning. People walking at noon on the road outside work. Ice is gone from the eaves, and in front of the garage. Girl scout cookies have arrived!

red winged black bird

from 2:19 on flickr

Tinges of red on the tips of the branches of the maple trees as the buds begin to swell. Lady bugs appearing in the kitchen. Daylight savings time has started with much more light in the evenings; back to darkness for the morning walks. Sound of a red winged black bird. Hard to believe that something that basically sounds like a rusty door hinge could be so uplifting.

liberated

31 degrees & cloudy. It's light out when driving home now. Bare ground appearing now in wet spots, and around the bases of trees. Heard Barb speak of the "sugar" snow on the walk Saturday. That's the first time I've heard that phrase this year. St. Patrick's Day & Easter decorations appearing now in the stores. When I went to Hannaford's the other day, I found a rusty penny in the parking lot when I opened the car door. It's been sitting there under the snow all winter long. It's finally been liberated; which is starting to happen to all of us as winter turns to spring.

fresh water crabs

A change in the weather. Things are warming up. The cap for the water pump has reappeared from under the snow in the back yard. Digging out the ditch in the back to keep as much water as possible out of the basement. Holes in the ice out front at work, formed and filled by continuous drops of snow melt from off of the roof. I think because of their circular shape, they remind me of the tidal pools at Point Lobos in Carmel, California. Both sets are formed by the continuous effects of water and gravity (one being of the lunar variety). When I was taking this picture, I half expected to see some rare Vermont fresh water starfish & hermit crabs scurrying around on the icy bottom.

casings

A couple of years ago at this time of year, as I was walking over to production. I spied some tiny brown husks on the sidewalk. I couldn't figure out what they were. They didn't look like any kind of a shell, or anything that might have been a remnant from the previous fall. I looked into the tree branches above me, and saw that some buds were just beginning to swell and open. The outer shell casings that had protected the buds through the winter were starting to fall away, exposing the tender greenery inside. It was those casings that I had seen lying there on the concrete. Yesterday I was making that same walk when I noticed them again. I immediately knew what they were. It was a real sign of the spring season to come. The more I write this journal, the more excited I get when noticing some of these fairly subtle changes in the surrounding landscape.

I know that somewhere in the world there is someone rolling their eyes at this treatise on the inconsequential (someone besides Shawn, that is). I realize that I am a member of a family possessing a pretty broad streak of lunacy, hopefully of the amiable variety. It has always been a comfort to me to realize that at least I'm not the craziest person in my own family. Happy Birthday Bill!

look!

Starting on Sunday, we had a storm that lasted well into Monday afternoon. We started out with rain that quickly changed to ice, then snow. We had about a foot of the white stuff. Northern Vermont had 24-30 inches. The aftermath included: small ponds forming in our lane, a neighbor's car was halfway out into the road as he failed to negotiate the snow in front of his house. I had my own troubles. My tires were frozen in the ice this morning, and I had to dig them out. It took me two tries to drive out of the lane; Allyn was observing me directly behind. The bypass was deserted when I came into work yesterday. Route 7 looked like Sunday morning at 6:00, not Monday at 8:00. Or maybe New Years day, in Fairbanks, Alaska.
And yet... the crabapple tree outside my office was covered with miniature icicles, hundreds of them. They looked like the tiny Christmas lights Allyn has on the lilac bush out front. You had to admit it was beautiful.

Don't think: Look!
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Zen page a day calendar

bumps

Potholes & frost heaves appearing

1/26/10
Cloudy & 30 degrees. The creek is high & loud from yesterday's rain. Just like last year, the first sign of spring in Vermont is not crocuses; it is not maple syrup running. It is the appearance of frost heave signs along the road. There is one on 133 about 100 yards from our house. Allyn made a good point the other night when we were driving back from town. She wondered what is it about that particular spot that separates it from the rest of the 5 miles of bad road between Ira and West Rutland? That stretch reminds me of the Mr. Toads Wild Ride attraction at Disneyland. I have actually pulled muscles in my back after being jostled around there on my way to work. It would make more sense to have a sign that said "smooth road for the next 50 yards-enjoy!"

ice

clickclique on flicker

Season of ice. The lane at home now doubles as a skating rink. The garage door wouldn't open the other day, iced up at the bottom. Sound of cars skidding on the ice. People walking very carefully along the roads. People chopping up ice in front of the office.

pouring

Sunny & cold. Bare ground appearing on some of the south facing slopes. Tulips in the living room; a birthday present from Cacky for Allyn. Starting up the truck after its long sleep in the yard over the last couple of months. Snow melt pouring off the roof even with temperatures in the teens. Smell of a skunk, a sure sign of spring.

green?

16 degrees and sunny. South facing snow banks take on a pocked marked appearance from the effects of the stronger sunlight. Town meeting last night. Snow disappearing next to the production facility as the heat reflecting off the building increases the snow melt. Reports from co-workers of a tilting snow man, and a robin. See, I told you I had seen some green snow.