dual personalities

It has been quite a week: so unseasonably cold that the frost line went deeper than the normal five feet and several nearby towns had massive municipal water disasters. Some even resorted to ‘trickle’ orders, hoping that if people kept their water on, the pipes wouldn’t freeze. So far, Canton has escaped, but keep your fingers crossed. Winter isn’t over yet. We did have one day mild enough so that my boys could frolick among the roof tops. Actually, they were not so much frolicking as attempting to prevent the garage roof from caving in.

thigh-high snow!

It was a Herculean task, but they moved mountains of the white stuff!

I think they quite enjoyed themselves. The got sweaty and covered in snow and afterwards were rewarded with tea and brownies.

In the meantime, I avoided grading by messing around on the internet, where I discovered this classic 1939 yearbook photo:

Let’s look at a close-up:

For readers unfamiliar with the our family, that’s our father looking austere and noble on the bottom right. Note that Newell is one of the only students without a nickname. I suppose his mother thought they were tacky or maybe he just didn’t run with the nickname crowd. Really, is High School fun for anyone, ever?

Next weekend, if all goes according to plan, I should be posting from the  nation’s capital. I’ll be visiting my son and (I hope) the National Archives, while the DH attends a conference. In the meantime, have a great week and console yourselves with the notion that somewhere spring has sprung.

I’m late with my Saturday post because I spent the day fetching son #3 from Vermont for his February break.  I got an early start and was rewarded by surprising a lone coyote as he stood in the middle of the road. I was too slow to take a picture, but he looked a lot like this guy.

He regarded my little red car coolly and then casually loped off into the woods. It was a good start to a long, meandering drive. My route takes me through lots of once-thriving, now down on their luck North Country towns that both intrigue and depress me. ‘Who lives here?’ I wonder every time I drive through. There are abandoned churches, dilapidated Victorian houses, and large, empty Romanesque public buildings. One place that belongs in its own category and that I find especially intriguing is Fort Montgomery on Lake Champlain just outside Rouses Point. You can see the ruins as you cross the bridge to Vermont.

I took the above picture from the car today. This one from the America’s Historic Lakes website gives you a better idea of what’s really there.

It was built around 1844 no doubt to guard us from fierce Canadians perfidious smugglers. It fascinates me and I have a burning desire to explore it. Alas, it is located on private land and the owners do NOT welcome trespassers. My mother would have gone anyway…she was intrepid that way. I keep hoping that one day they’ll open it to the public.

The fort attracts me, but the ice-fishing does not. There was quite a crowd of people and vehicles out on the lake today.

Yes, people drive their trucks out on the ice and set up. Brr…that really gives me the willies and, yes, I did take a photo while driving. But I promise I didn’t take my eyes off the road even once.

Maureen and I made it safely to Johnson where we took in the view before heading home.

Let me give you a closer look.

Vermont is lovely this time of year — all that snow. The drive back was great. Most of the way, Tim drove while I feigned insouciance. No, really, we had a lovely time chatting and everything was great.

Even when snow began falling determinedly for the whole last hour and a half and road conditions became quite nasty,  Tim was imperturbable and calm. Perhaps it’s the beard, or maybe the new car. Then again, it might have been the fact that we were listening to our favorite driving music, The Tragically Hip, of which this is an example:

They are guaranteed to calm any storm and mellow frayed nerves. Before nightfall, we arrived home safe, sound, and happily humming.

Stay warm, stay safe and have a great weekend!

*One of our favorite quotes from the Tragically Hip song “Titanic Terrarium”, although in order to maintain my stodgy, bourgeois sensabilities, I changed the last word to gritty (rhymes with sh…y).