Noel '20...

 I felt I had this whole adulting thing under control this holiday season. My decorations went up right after Thanksgiving, and I was pleased with how everything looked. I started shopping early, and had thoughtful gifts nicely wrapped and under the tree long before Christmas. Groomers tend to work too hard this time of year, because everyone wants their dog pretty for the holiday. One groomer I know said, "I'm living on coffee, Redbull and cookies. I can't wait for it to be over."  Our schedule was busy but not excessively so, because we didn't overbook. The whole season was deliciously pleasant. 

Because of Covid restrictions we can't invite customers in now, so I didn't make the hundreds of cookies I usually do, but I did manage to bake one batch of sugar cookies. 

Bravo supervised. 

Although we had a foot of snow before Christmas, the holiday weather turned weirdly warm, with high winds and heavy rain. All the snow was washed away, and not only did we have a brown Christmas, we even found this wee flower growing in the front yard. 

It was just the four of us on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. We collaborated and dreamed up what special foods we'd like to celebrate with. On Christmas eve I made Oyster stew. Evans brought the fresh oysters and nicely shucked them for me while I made the base of the stew. 

It was only the second time I'd ever made this recipe, but we all agree it is delicious. A medley of fresh butter, local cream and fresh Jersey milk, a small bowl is all you need. We also cooked a fresh pork roast, from a whole pig we just filled our freezer with. Raised by a farmer friend, that pig drank a lot of our fresh goat milk over the summer, so had direct ties to our little farm. We opened a special bottle of wine gifted to us by Evans father. It was amazing. More adulting success happened when we finished our last spoonful of Oyster stew just as the timer announced that the popovers I'd made were done. Rarely does the timing on a meal work so well.

On Christmas morning Santa filled the absolutely beautiful new stockings I'd been gifted (early!) from Rachel and Evans. I have been looking for white Christmas stockings for a few years, but had not found any I loved. They did, though!  White linen, lined, decorated with vintage lace handkerchiefs at the top. Each has a little tag made from porcelain, where one can paint the recipients name. At our house the "kids," and dogs receive stockings. The most excited each year is Bravo, who is smart enough to know that once a year that thing hanging on the banister if filled with goodies to delight a good pup. 

 If you look, you can see him sitting on the stairs, wishing someone would help him access his loot. Santa also brought a super soft bed, both dogs took to it immediately. 

One more dog picture, just because. 

The chickens got a big old plate of yummy human food for a Christmas treat, the ducks enjoyed Romaine lettuce leaves torn into their water, and the goats and donkeys share a treat gift made of compressed seeds, grains, molasses and salt. It is hung where they can lick but not bite it, and offers hours of entertainment.  

During the darkest days of a New England winter, extra dark this year due to the pandemic and political upheavals, there is warmth and brightness for all  here at FairWinds. And for this I am ever grateful. 

Big snow...

They predicted a big storm was coming, and the weather turned very cold. Between grooming pets yesterday, I dashed out for brief periods and cleaned the chicken coops and donkey dorm. I'd finish one, come in and thaw out while I worked, then tackle another while Rachel bathed the next pet.  I like knowing all the animals have clean, dry bedding when bad weather is coming, and felt quite accomplished to finish the busy work day knowing I'd done all those extra chores, too.

When I woke this morning it was 13 degrees outside, but no snow had fallen. I started to put the donkey and goat hay out in the pasture to encourage them to move about (and poop OUTSIDE!) but the wind was strong enough to just scatter the hay, so they got room service. I put the chickens fresh food and water outside for the same reason. Before I got done with chores a few flakes of snow began to fall. Within 20 minutes the ground was covered. I trooped back outside and moved the birds food and water into the coop. They refuse to go out in the snow. They got a little  warm oatmeal to supplement their regular grub, it seemed fitting on a cold morning. 

There was hardly any traffic due to the snow, so I walked Bravo up the road a little ways, letting him race about on the snowy street to his hearts content. He loved it, and has asked politely for a repeat performance, but I'm staying in a while.  He and Flirt had breakfast of sirloin steak that had been accidentally thawed when a friends freezer malfunctioned,  then snuggled in. 

Flirt never fails to be in the warmest spot.

The wild birds seem glad the feeders are full, and practically need an air traffic controller to keep them from colliding as they zoom in and out to dine. 

Inside the house is cozy. The Christmas decorations are festive, and the kettle of water on the woodstove has cinnamon sticks and cloves in it, so the air smells spicy and sweet. Watching the snow come down I think, for the millionth time, about my friend Terese. How she loved Christmas time, and she maintained a childhood wonder of snow until the day she died. She would have loved being here today, watching this storm. Living in the south almost her entire life, the snows she experienced were brief and rare. Last year, when she was sick and in and out of the hospital, we talked almost every day. I would usually call her after I was done with work. I'd sit by the wood stove and we'd have a good chat. How fortunate I am to have warm memories of her... but how I wish she could be here to share this with me. 

We had a happy surprise this week when our friend Jean popped in for a (masked) visit. It's been way too long since we saw her. She is one of Flirts most very favorite humans, and they had a sweet little reunion. She brought us kind gifts and we had a brief but jolly chat before she was off again. 

Because of the storm all our grooming customers have been moved to Saturday. Today will be spent working on other projects, writing and being quiet. I'll make a pot roast early and let it cook low and slow, perfuming the house as it does. 

My brother in Vermont says they have 33 inches of snow and it's still coming down. My sister in Massachusetts reports about 18 inches of powder, and more on the way. Looking out my window there is a curtain of snow falling so fast and thick I can barely see the trees at the edge of the property. Soon I will bundle up and go out to take more food and water to the animals... then enjoy this quiet day of  big snow. 

Birds and boots...

 When I ordered my last flock of chickens, I planned on 19 pullets (girls) and 1 boy. The hatchery sent 21 birds, and I ended up with two roosters. They got along ok, so I kept both. The only problem was that there was a lot of loving going on. When chickens mate, the rooster hops onto the hens back, and he grabs her head or neck with his beak. This makes for some feather loss on the favorite hens due to the claws and bills.  As winter bears down upon us, the bare spots on the hens makes me fret. I decided that one rooster had to go to cut down on all the romance. I was happy to find a good home for one boy, and last night after the birds went to bed, I scooped Randy II off his cozy roost and brought him in to await his ride. 

He was uncomplaining, and went off to a new flock sitting in the lap of his new human. On the bird front there is this story. We have three ducks. They live in a hutch next to the chicken coop. In the past few weeks they've been putting themselves to bed in the coop at night instead of their own hutch.. This is actually a good thing. The coop is much more snug, and if they move there not only will they be warmer, but it will reduce the number of houses I need to clean on a regular basis. Last night two ducks went into the coop, and the third put herself to bed UNDER the coop. This is not safe, and we tried to cajole her into joining her family. She refused. We tried three times, hours apart. No go. 

About an hour after we went to bed, when I was in a deep, deep sleep, I heard loud, LOUD quacking. right outside my window. So loud it woke me, so loud it made the dogs go berserk. Groggy, I got up, put on clothes, and went to investigate. I didn't really want to lace up my boots, so jammed my feet into Crocs instead. Crocs are comfy rubber shoes, but decidedly dangerous on slippery surfaces. It was snowing. Crocs were a poor choice. Out I went, dogs in tow, to check on the loud duck. She, meanwhile, had put herself into her hutch. I shut her in and called it a night. She was alone but safe.  Walking back inside, fully awake now, I realized how dumb it was that I was outside, in the cold and dark, in my pajamas and slippery shoes. If I fell and hurt myself I'd be stuck there until Chris missed me in the morning. Bravo would probably lie on top of me to keep me warm, but Flirt would have burrowed under my clothes to save herself! This weekend I will buy real boots for night time forays into the icy world. 

Topic change:  I posted previously that I used to knit, but never very well. I only made very basic, simple things. Then I quit knitting 25 or so years ago. Our houseguest last summer made some super cute booties, and I itched to make some, too. Rachel kindly, patiently, sweetly helped me and today I finished these adorable little things: 

For real knitters, these are ridiculously simple, but for me they are kind of a big deal. Made from Maine wool, and super soft, they will keep some sweet baby feet warm soon. 

Tonight there is only one rooster in the coop, but all three ducks are safely tucked. I will NOT venture out in slippery shoes, but I will start a new knitting project soon. And get new boots. 

Outage...

 The forecast for Saturday promised a Nor'easter. High winds and heavy rain followed by dropping temperatures, ice and snow. It came as promised. We had planned dinner out with friends, a rare event these days, and were enjoying a lovely evening when the restaurant lost its electrical power. They added more candles to our table and served our food. It was delicious. Chris went to his car and fetched a flashlight. The chef took it to the kitchen and continued his work. 

Driving home the roads were littered with wind blown branches and the rain pelted down. We noted which houses had lights glowing, and were sad when ours did not. We had left the wood stove burning, so it was warm inside, if dark. We went to bed early and woke to find the power was still out. About an inch of icy snow had fallen, and the wind had plastered it to the sides of buildings, trees, and shrubs. 

I go into a strange funk when we have an outage. Living where we do, it means that we can't run water because the well pump runs by electricity. This means no washing hands or dishes, no flushing toilets, and most importantly, no watering the animals. Knowing we could lose power any time, I keep 10 or 15 gallons of animal water at the ready in the house, and fill the goat and donkeys big, heated water tub to the brim every day, but if we are without power for long, things get dicey. It also means that our chest freezers, full of lovely chicken we raised right here, lamb, beef and pork from friends farms, are in peril. The thought of wasting all that wonderful meat makes me fret. Every year we plan to buy a generator to run crucial things like the well pump, furnace and the freezers for a few hours at a time, but we never do.

As Chris and I rattle around the house, staying close to the wood stove, unable to operate our lives normally, I read and knit, make notes for an upcoming article, feed the fire and gaze at the flames. I think about how glad I am to live in a time where most days heat and light and water are available at the turning of a dial, flick of a switch, lift of a faucet. I miss the sounds of the washing machine chugging, the dryer whirring, the whoosh of the furnace as it pumps warm air through the house. It seems eerily quiet. We watch the road for power company trucks that do not come and go to bed early, snuggled under handmade quilts and a fluffy feather duvet. 

Before dawn on Monday the bedroom light came on and Chris muttered a sleepy, "Yay." My hot shower felt extra good, and I rejoiced as I washed dishes, filled water tubs and listened to the normal sounds of my refrigerator motor kicking on and ice cubes thudding into the waiting tray. 

I'm moving "buy generator," up on the "to do" list. 

Tempest...

 The weather forecasters told us to expect heavy rain and winds with 40-60 mile an hour gusts. After the long summer draught, I was happy about impending rain, but wind is always worrisome. Trees fall, roads flood, damage happens. We got ready as best we could, filling containers with water in case we lost power, and stowing things that might blow away. All day yesterday the skies were dark, and rain came down intermittently. Dusk came early, the sun hidden behind heavy clouds. I did chores in the pouring rain, with mud squelching up around my ankles.  The animals knew it was going to be rough, the ducks even put themselves to bed in the chicken coop, which is sturdier than their hutch. 

During the evening I could hear rain pelting on the windows and the wind caused the dogs to bark in alarm more than once. I checked in on the goats and donkeys several times, peeking at them via the camera system Chris gave me. They were all bedded down in their cozy shed, munching on hay and safely protected from the weather. 

I looked forward to bedtime, because there is something fabulously cozy about going to sleep in a storm. This old house sits out in the open, unprotected by trees. The wind makes amazing sounds as it hits the walls, windows and eves; whistles, howls and even thready screams can be heard when the gusts are strong. We have a good roof, and this sturdy place has stood the test of over a hundred years hunkered in this spot. I feel secure as I snuggle down under the covers and listen to the show. I know that all my birds and beasts are safe and well fed, with dry bedding and snug shelter. I leave the bedside window open just a crack, so I can feel the occasional puff of rain-perfumed air on my face. The wind is a wild lullaby.  Through the night I am roused by the sounds outside, and I wonder if the electricity is still on. 

Dawn is pewter and the rain still drums on the glass. Again chores are accomplished in a slicker and tall boots. The ducks are overjoyed with all the pasture puddles, the chickens are less enthused. Though the thermometer is in the low 50's I keep a small fire going in the stove to dry the air a bit. Outside is a bluster, but we are warm and snug, watching the grey world through streaming windows. 

Kitchen ghosts...

 We look forward to this day all year, my daughter and I. It's a day spent almost entirely in the kitchen, as we create the feast for Thanksgiving. We make a celebration of it, with mimosa's to sip on and good music playing in the background.  Thanks to Chris the larder is always so well stocked that we never lack a thing that we need, and this enhances our pleasure. 

We find that we are not alone in efforts. There are ghosts in the kitchen. I feel them when I roll out pie crust from the recipe my sweet friend Betty gave me 25 years ago, and when I bake bread using a starter I've had almost 30 years, a gift from my friend Nickie. 

They are there when I bake Pecan Pie, my mothers recipe, and one of the first desserts she ever entrusted me to bake when I was a kid. I forgot to add the melted butter until the pies were in the oven. I didn't want to admit to my error, so pulled them out and stirred it in quick. No one was the wiser. Perhaps she was peering over my shoulder today when I did remember to include all the ingredients before I began baking. 

Rachel brought new ghosts to the kitchen when she married. Today she made recipes from her husbands mother and grandmother, bringing some flavor from his family to share with ours. 

We have treasured recipe cards written in many different hands. Recipes we have unfailingly trotted out each year, savoring the tradition of inherited flavors. 

When I put my brother in law Nevada's dressing together, I can hear his voice, right down to the southern accent, saying, "Chop up an onion, and an whole lot of celery..." I never know just how much is an whole lot, so I keep chopping until I think he would be satisfied. 

There are ghosts in the kitchen, past generations crowding in as we, with deep gratitude, keep their memories alive in the most enjoyable that way we know how. 

Waddles, Wardrobes and Remembrance...

 You may remember that a few months ago one of our ducks was attacked by a fox. Although she survived, she has not been "right," ever since. The ducks are named Bill, Blanche and Bianca, (a nod to cousin Karen who came up with this fun triad.) I have given Bianca the new nick name of "Fox Bait," and have worried about her. On several occasions we have wondered if we should put her down. She eats, drinks, hangs out in the pool but does not go out exploring in the pasture with the other two ducks, choosing, instead, to settle in by the fence where she can watch the others while she rests. I have asked other livestock owning friends their opinions. "Should I kill her?" They both observed a while and said, "No. Give it time."  

Last week we had some fine days after rain, and the low spot in the pasture that we fondly refer to as "puddle pond" has been holding water. It has been frequented by crows, getting drinks and taking splashy baths. Friday two of the ducks discovered the water and spent hours paddling and splashing. When I went out before dusk to make sure the chickens and ducks had food in their bowls for an evening meal I was overjoyed to note that all three ducks were making their way back from the puddle. Yesterday morning when I let them out of their snug coop I watched as all three made the trek back out. Fox Bait was lagging behind, but making steady progress. 

I stood and watched as she struggled along, heaving herself over the uneven ground. 

I let out a little cheer when she hit the water and pushed off, paddling like a champ. 

Meanwhile, I have tied blaze orange bandanas around the necks of the goats and donkeys to prevent hunters from mistaking them for the elusive White Tailed Deer this season. Two of the donkeys have lost theirs, and today I will go hike around the pasture until I find them. Jezebel greeted me yesterday with this wardrobe malfunction. 

She was perfectly calm, but walked determinedly right up to me and stood patiently while I tucked it back under her chin and tightened it up a bit. It seemed she was saying, "Excuse me, madam. Could you and your opposable thumbs lend me some assistance?" 

It is mere days until Thanksgiving, and as I prepare to cook the annual feast I was happily reminded of holidays past. My friend Angel sent me this picture of our old house in Memphis. 

We met when she and her family moved in across the street from this dear house. She has since moved away, too, but was passing through on a visit and kindly shared this with me. I had a love affair with this house from the first day I laid eyes on it. High ceilings, a beautiful stone fireplace in the dining room, big, sunny windows and a floor plan that begged for parties to happen. We had some memorable Thanksgiving celebrations there. Rachel was young, and she and the other kids would take an old quilt I made outside and spread it on the lawn. They would fill their plates up with turkey, gravy and all the yummy side dishes, and have happy picnics on the lawn while the adults ate indoors. I was pleased to note that the arbor I planted at the end of the walkway is still there. I spent many a happy hour puttering gratefully in the gardens there.

I am reminded of all the Thanksgivings I have planned and prepared over the past 36 years. The locations have varied, but the flavor has remained the same. Bring on the bird, the sage and the stuffing. This Thanksgiving is bound to be delicious. 

Productive Saturday...

 Today started sweetly, with a shell pink sunrise tinting the windows. I stayed in bed a little later than usual, savoring that "day off," feeling. When I went downstairs and opened the door to let the dogs out, I started to lean my sleepy head out to check the weather. Something caught my eye and I froze... a spider the size of a nickel was dangling in the doorway, right at face level. I narrowly missed smacking into it. That woke me up! I caught its silk with my broom and gently lifted it outside. It dropped like a stone, hitting the deck with an audible "thud."

I tidied up the house, Chris made breakfast. 

As the stack of pancakes hit the table, I had a wave of missing our summer guest, Hannah Fields. She captured the feeling of weekend mornings quite well with this charming "recipe:"

Just as we were mopping up the last sticky drops of sweet maple syrup, Brenda arrived. Every year she kindly decorates our pretty arbor, and today was the day. Her car was filled with evergreen boughs, and she went right to work creating her magic. It was a treat to hang out with her a little and catch up, it's been too long. 

Tomorrow we will twine white lights amid the greens to complete the picture. 

I went to work cleaning animal houses while the weather was fine. I was about half way through the project when I heard a tractor trundling down the road.  I had asked Cheryl to come by sometime and spread out our manure pile. This will fertilize the pasture as well as make things look more tidy. The pile didn't look very big until she started scooping up bucket loads, then we could see how deep it really was. The donkeys were fascinated and all came to greet her. Abraham followed her about. 

Meanwhile Chris did the weekly grocery shopping, ran a bunch of errands, then came home and took trash and recycling to the transfer station. 

I finished cleaning two chicken coops, one duck house, the goat cozy and donkey dorm. Each space looked bright and tidy, and smelled like fresh pine shavings. I filled up all the feeders and rinsed and filled all the water containers. Time for a little rest, then company here for supper. Chris cooked schnitzel, one of his specialties. After a productive day this feast was just right. 

One thing marred our lovely day. My sister called and said that due to Covid she and her family will not be able to join us for Thanksgiving. I would rather have been smacked in the face by a cold spider than have heard this news. For 17 years they have filled our home with added holiday joy, laughter and SO much help with the celebration! Not to mention, no one makes gravy like my sister. Like so many other things this year, Thanksgiving will just not be the same. I feel bereft. 

Knitting...

When I was a young teenager I had the good fortune to date a guy who had a wonderful mother. She took me under her wing and taught me how to cook, how to sew, and how to knit. I knitted a bit, on and off, for many years. I could make rudimentary things... scarves, afghans, simple hats. I made a baby blanket for my nephew, a sofa throw for my mom. When my daughter was tiny she was interested in knitting and I taught her how. She has far exceeded my skills, knitting lace shawls and socks, mittens and complex patterned things. Meanwhile I lost interest. Long ago I parted with my needles, and have not missed them. 

My neighbor friend recently bought a yarn store, The Cashmere Goat in Camden, Maine.  I went in with my knitting niece, and she bought some pretty yarn. I found myself mesmerized by the lovely displays of wool and blends. So many luscious colors and textures. My fingers began to "itch" a bit. Maybe I'd like to knit something. 

My niece makes adorable knitted pumpkins and has gifted me with many of them. Some are tiny, some larger, all wonderful. I decorate with them every autumn. It occurred to me that I might like to try creating one.

The pattern used double pointed needles, something I've never tried.  Rachel kindly cast the pattern on for me, and from there it was a bit of a learning curve, but simple enough to make. And I enjoyed it. Over the last weekend I spent some time in the car, a perfect place to have a hand craft to while away the hours. In no time I had the pattern almost completed.  

Today I finished it up, refreshing my memory on old skills like how to decrease stitches, and how to cast off when the job is done. Low and behold, I created a soft little pumpkin! 

I feel a happy sense of accomplishment. It's been too long since I indulged in a handicraft. I enjoyed this project, and am pondering what would be fun to make next. The pretty yarn at the Cashmere Goat is calling to me. Winter is coming. I might need a new hat! 

November...

 If I absolutely had to choose, I'd say that Autumn is my favorite season. The breathtaking foliage, the bounty of harvest, the pumpkins and gourds and happy sunflowers. But even past those glowing copper days, I love November, too. Often cold, stormy and dismal, I cherish the coziness it brings. We focus more on indoor activities, light candles, keep a blanket on the sofa, and appreciate the warmth of a fire. Meals consist of soups, stews, hearty casseroles; things I make early in the day, their savory scent perfuming the house for hours. The pace of life slows a bit. There is Thanksgiving to look forward to, the planning and preparing of the feast, arguably the best holiday of the year. 

The clocks changed last night, so mornings will be bright earlier. New England nights stretch long, though. Chris will come home in the dark from now until spring. I woke this Sunday morning to the view I see most every morning...the two small windows on the west wall of our bedroom, framed with old-fashioned white ball fringe curtains. To welcome November this day the sky was pewter, making the scene before my eyes a small panorama of shades of  gray as the muted light reflected off the glass, the curtains, the walls. A fitting start to the month.  I could hear rain pattering on the sill, and the air was cold on my face. Under the quilts I was warm. Another thing to love about this time of year, the joy of being snug under a mound of covers in a chilly room. 

Downstairs the woodstove glowed with embers from last nights fire. I added a few logs and opened the damper. In seconds flames were springing brightly behind the glass. Stepping outside with the dogs I realized the falling rain was freezing as it hit the ground. I walked carefully, plotting the best direction to fall if my feet became victims to the ice. 

When they heard me, the donkeys began to bray, pleading for breakfast. I complied, bringing an armful of fragrant hay to the pasture and distributing piles. The goats danced out of their cozy, tossing their heads in the brisk air, and running to see if my pockets held treats.

The animals had visitors yesterday. A woman messaged me through my business and said that her 4 year old daughter is wild over our donkeys, insisting her parents stop the car each time they pass, was there a way she could meet them? They arrived just after I finished work, the little girl vibrating with excitement. Fearless, she pushed through the metal gate, into the herd of waiting animals. Her parents had brought carrots and apples and the goats and donkeys crowded around, cadging treats. "Do you want to sit on a donkey?" I asked. She nodded her head up and down. "This one," I said, patting Abrahams broad, dusty back. He stood rock still while her mother booster her up. Her little hands explored his fuzzy winter coat, she leaned forward to stroke his long ears. Giggles fractured the afternoon air. Abraham took one step, then two, gingerly. More giggles and a shriek of glee.  When she dismounted she spent long minutes going from animal to animal, hugging them tightly. Only Bliss objected, staying several steps away. The other animals became still and calm while the wee guest showered them with affection. 

As this sweet child gleefully embraced my animals, I grasp the cold, dark, "dreary" days and plan to wring every ounce of joy out of them that I can. Bring on the candles, the casseroles, the cozy. I'm ready. 

W.O.W. (Way Out West) weekend...

 Last Christmas Chris gifted me with three "Golden Tickets." One of them was for a "Romantic Weekend Getaway." He plotted and planned, and the second weekend in October he whisked me off to collect on my gift. I didn't know what our destination was, except it would be to the west of home. We left early on Saturday, stopped in Augusta to run a few errands, then headed off down some beautiful roads. The day was sunny and fine, and the foliage stunning. 

We drove for about 2 hours, past lakes and over hills, viewing vistas that had me sighing happily. After a while we reached a picturesque little town and I said, "Oh, this is cute. We should come explore here sometime." Chris grinned delighedly as he turned into the driveway of a beautiful inn. "I'm glad you like it, this is where we are staying." 

It was a little too soon to check in so we rode around until we found a likely place to grab a bite of lunch. After we checked in we walked around the glorious grounds, checked out where the heated outdoor pool was, and explored a bit.  We enjoyed a nice supper that evening, then went to our suite where we sat before a warm fire and listened to a wild thunderstorm rage outside. It was lovely. 

The next morning we visited a fabulous bakery and grabbed freshly made bagels to go, then off we went. 

The plan for this day was to explore Rangeley. Neither of us had been there before. I wish I could describe what a gift the light was that day as we drove. The birch trees fairly glowed, their bark bright as if they were lit from within, their leaves looking as if they were ignited. 

Rangeley is in the lakes region, and we were treated to views of rivers and lakes around almost every turn. 

This pretty female Mallard duck walked right up, so close I could feel her feathers brush past my ankle. 

The scenery was so incredible, I kept saying, "Wow," over and over again. Chris swooped his car off at an overlook. 

We drank this vista in like it was fine wine. The sun was warm on our faces, but the air hovered just above freezing. Giddy with beauty, we continued on, back down the mountain to where the foliage still shone in all its October splendor. 

In Rangeley we walked up and down the main street, popped into a store or two, and had a magnificent lunch on a deck overlooking the lake. Then we traveled a different route back to our inn, with more scenes that made me utter, "Wow." 

I found this full sized horse statue in Bethel. 

On it's face it has the Emerson quote, "The earth laughs in flowers." 

I decided that in the fall, it chortles with leaves.

We headed for the heated pool. Once I was in, Chris vanished. I swam laps, my head in the cool fall air, my body in the deliciously warm water. I had the place to myself, except for a small group of little girls who were playing mermaid off to one side of the pool. Their mothers supervised from lounge chairs, wearing fleece jackets and cozy scarves. "My name will be Rosa," said one little fish to the others, but you can call me Rosie." Another said, "My mermaid name is Isabella, but you can call me Bella." The littlest one, her arms clasped around the neck of a bigger girl loudly announced, "And there is an ARMY OF UNICORNS!" I chuckled and thought back fondly to the days I had my own wee mermaid. 

Chris returned and handed me a delicious glass of Grand Mariner. We canoodled and sipped, then finally dragged ourselves into the chilly air and headed back to our room. I stopped by the patient mothers and said, "I enjoyed your girls so much." One said, "Oh, we were hoping they were not bothering you!" The other said, "We were a little jealous, you out there by yourself, enjoying your drink, with no kids demanding your attention." I assured them that I was not at all bothered, and said, "I enjoyed my time alone today, but don't be in a rush, this season with little kids will pass so quickly." 

The seasons are flying by. Chris makes me stop to enjoy them by planning special times like this. This Golden Ticket weekend was a lottery winner. 

Freshening up...

 We loved this house when we moved here 17 years ago, but little by little we have been making changes to make it more "ours." One area that has vexed me since the beginning was the laundry room and guest bath. The laundry room had indoor/outdoor carpet that smelled like dirty diapers. I tore it out early on, and painted the plywood subfloor, but it was impossible to keep clean and looked horrible. The bathroom had a tolerable linoleum floor, but I didn't like it very much. Both rooms had built in cabinets. We tore out the one in the bathroom early on and put a bureau there. It was useful but didn't look good. The cabinets in the laundry room were deep, things put there got "lost" in the back. The washer/dryer blocked one of  the doors and made it hard to access. Meanwhile the big closet in the room had a nice shelf on top of it that ended up being a place where we crammed blankets, quilts and other linens. It looked messy, disorganized and things put there were hard for me to access. 

This spring I decided that both spaces were really quite nice, but so unattractive I didn't enjoy being in them. I didn't want to spend a lot of money to do a major overhaul, but it occurred to me that changing out the floor would make a huge difference. I picked out some laminate that looked like whitewashed planks and ordered it. The day the men came to install them, they got the floor started then called me up, "Your house is old and uneven. This floor will be ruined in 6 months. You will be better off with linoleum." They tore up what I had chosen and I was back at square #1. I changed up the plan I had, and went for a rather bright pattern of versatile linoleum instead of the very plain look I originally had in mind. 

Meanwhile, a carpenter friend came and tore out all the built in's. A neighbor friend came and fixed the several dry wall problems the rooms had. It took a while for the floor to come in, but one happy day they came and did a beautiful job installing it. The whole place was so much brighter!  The carpenter came back and put up trim where it was missing. I ordered new light fixtures to replace the very unattractive ones that we had, and my curmudgeon of an electrician came and put them up for me. Next a coat of paint, (color masterfully chosen by interior designer niece Elyse to harmonize with the floor)  made everything look clean and fresh. 

During all this time I spied a vintage sink at an "antique" place. It was outside, and pretty rough. 

 I could imagine it replacing the oh so ugly sink and vanity. For $50 we brought it home. 

The plumbers came and installed it. They put in a new faucet for me, too. 

This entire project started in May or June. Today it is almost finished. Instead of dreading to be in the laundry room, I find excuses to go there now. Clean, organized, bright and pretty, it is a space that makes me happy to be in.  

Niece Aimee found this marvelous painted bureau in New Hampshire, and picked it up for us. I think a small lamp will look good there, I'm on the hunt! Big wicker baskets collect clothes waiting to be washed and dried.

In the bathroom the old sink with its new faucets stands proud under the new lights and a simple oval mirror. A vintage bassinet holds guest towels, tissues, lotion and travel sized toothpaste along with new toothbrushes. Things to make a visitor feel welcome. 

We found this metal dry sink years ago at a yard sale for a song. It looks pretty under the sky light. 

The adorable vintage medicine cabinet came up on Facebook Marketplace. It was a dirty putty color. Hannah and I painted it one sunny afternoon sitting at the picnic table. We made the inside a sweet pale blue. The back of the mirror has someone's name and "1935" drawn on it. A marvelous hand made treasure. 

The new floor I had in mind blossomed into something a little bit larger, but we are pleased with the end result. 

Owning a home means never-ending projects, constant freshening up. This particular freshening was a bit of creative fun.