In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb?

Despite getting a Celestron 25 mm wide angle telescope for a wedding gift from Paul Bunyan's good college friends, I am not much of a stargazer. It is a sad fact (sorry Timmy Jimmy Fender Hender) that the thing sits gravely alone in the closet of the loft in the house Paul Bunyan and I got married in almost 11 years ago, all the way up on the border of Canada, in the god-forsaken town of International Falls, Minnesota. How's that for a run-on? It is a sad fact, however, because now that I have children and want to give them nothing else but the stars, I could use the thing around here every now and again. But I think we lost the manual.

Anyway, where was I going? Oh, right. I read somewhere once that the saying "In like a lion and out like a lamb," came from astrological origins. And that it's not necessarily that March's weather is crappy in the beginning and more beautiful at the end, but rather has something more to do with the constellations Leo, the lion, and Aries, the ram (or lamb) and their respective positioning in the sky at the beginning and end of this month. Now, being 'in our neck of the woods' (I'm going to try and say that in every post!) you can never count on the Lion showing its nasty teeth in the beginning or the Lamb, with all its gentle softness, at the end of March, so I think the constellation theory is more applicable to us. If I can find Leo and Aries in the sky tonight, I'll let you know their relative positions. However, I'm not sure I'll be able to see the stars tonight, because the Lion roared its loud ferocious (teeth baring) very, very scary roar at us this morning. It almost made Paul Bunyan want to stay in bed. That is, until I called him old.

One More Beautiful Sign of Spring

It's kind of a constant discussion around these parts about which kind of car is the most practical for backcountry living. Not too many of us have convertibles, for example. Can't put skis or bikes on top, and besides there are only a handful of sunny days here in Vermont, so why waste your money? I think the state probably boasts the largest number of Subarus, but that's just a guess. They are a really practical car for gear and kids and mud. And for certain, you ain't nobody here unless you got a truck, especially now that it's sugarin' season. And you definitely ain't nobody unless you got a sap tank in the bed of that thar truck...but that's another spring story for another spring day.

When I was deciding which car to get after the twins were born, (well, because our gosh darn Subaru just wasn't big enough anymore for three kids and two dogs) I really had to think about 4 wheel drive (or all-wheel drive) because of the hill we live on, and more importantly, because of the hill my best friend lives on. I knew I was going to be stuck at home through the winters...long winters...by myself and I wanted to be able to feel like I could go and see whomever I wanted to, whenever I wanted. So it was really in preparation for her road, which gets far scarier in the winter and spring than our hill, that I chose the Toyota Sienna, which hasn't done us wrong, except for the run-flat tires, which is another spring story for another spring day.

Last Saturday, we took the clan up to Medora's house and we made it up fine. But I thought I'd get back up there today, in our truck, to give you a little view of what Medora and her husband have to deal with every day. It's a beautiful Spring day today, as you'll see:

Warning: This video may cause extreme dizziness and/or nausea!

Medora, (whom we all coincidentally call Mud) I love you darling...I do not love your road.

One Soggy Sunny Spring Day on the Mountain

So, unfortunately, and I say unfortunately because I just watched a Planet Earth show about the polar bears and I've been crying for four days since, Spring has sprung here. Yea, yea we've seen the robins (boring). We've seen the crocus (already dunn that). I've cleaned up a winter's worth of dog shit (definitely a sign of spring). But I'm pretty certain that things don't officially become Spring up here 'in our neck of the woods' until the ice melts far enough away from the end of the dock, just far enough away, for Paul Bunyan to jump into the icy cold water. He is a veritable Polar Bear, right here on our mountainside of Vermont. And he's not likely to go into extinction any time soon. I've known PB now for over 14 years of my life and on all of our adventures, wherever we've gone...across the state, across the country, across the world, he has searched for and found the coldest water to dip his big body into. He is like some treasure hunter out on the seas, except ice cold streams and lakes and oceans are his pots of gold. Needless to say, we're very lucky to have our very own pot of cold here on our mountainside.



Well, with temperatures reaching into the 60's yesterday, we found it hard to stay inside with the doors closed. The twins were in shorts and Claire was runny barefoot through the dead grass. It must have felt great. I'm glad I got that poop picked up.
















PB thinks he's going to break through this ice.




















No luck. He's off to find the weakest link.






Sorry, we're not coming to save you.





Okay, there we go then.

Ahh, That's just what you wanted? Wasn't it? My Polar Bear...PB.

Welcome to my world...

Well, welcome to my world. I'm not expecting anyone to read this, but welcome anyway. I'll just clarify that: I'm not expecting anyone to read this, which is why I'm starting off my first post with a poem that I just constructed. I'm a sucky, wannabe famous, writer. But anywho, I was writing it while my twins were eating dinner...my daughter's off at a slumber party at her best friend's house, which is so gloriously sweet I can't even explain. The twins, despite knowing that dessert doesn't arrive until dinner is finished, were up playing with Paul Bunyan's (that's my husband) 12' tape measure. Twin A was pulling the tape measure all the way out and announcing that it (his distance) was "9 below 20 hours zero" which it sometimes gets that cold up here 'in our neck of the woods', especially when you're measuring in inches on a tape measure. Despite the cold, our house is situated so that we have the most amazing sunsets, which means we are facing west (duh), and it (tonight's sunset) inspired me to write this little ditty for Paul Bunyan, whom I sometimes forget to kiss before he goes to work.

If only I could remember to love you

Like I did when it was only you.

And the world stopped rolling,

When you waltzed out that door.

I was certain your life staggered on its edges

Without hugs and kisses from me.

If only, even after all this time,

You still needed me to touch you.

In passing from room to room,

From world to world, arm to arm,

Hand to leg, foot to foot,

We could feel each other's skin,

And remember cold kisses on top of mountains.

If only it wasn't about dump runs, and fire starting,

And putting kids to bed, and dishes.

In the din of it all, if only we could

See each other clearly....just us,

With no clutter getting our love moldy.

If only I could remember what sunsets,

The famous ones from our photo albums,

Looked like, when kisses mattered, and

Weren't required, and I could see their bright pinks

Clearly through finger printed windows.

For those who don't know specifically, Paul Bunyan was a giant lumberjack, who, with the help of his blue ox, Babe, performed various superhuman feats. I'm just using Paul Bunyan as a metaphor for the love of my life, and well I'm not too unlike Babe either:)