My snowshoes made a soft crunching sound as I herringboned up the steeper part of the hill across from my Vermont home. The sun was bright, and its strong rays turned the snow crystals into a field of diamonds. A few clouds floated across the mid-day sky. Some 20 inches of snow had fallen overnight, and I was busy making new tracks across the undisturbed snow. It was good exercise for a sunny Sunday morning.
This was my first winter in the picturesque house at the end of a dirt road in South Woodbury. It was the early 1970s and I was in that great physical condition so necessary to handle the never-ending chores associated with country living. There was wood to chop, fixing-up to do, nails to hammer, snow to shovel, and...well, you name it. Today’s hike was a break from the routine.
At the crest of the hill adjacent to the house I paused. There was no wind today, piles of leaves were covered by a thick quilt of snow, most birds had headed for warmer climates and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. For a city boy from noisy Brooklyn, it was the first time I had experienced complete silence--and I loved it. Except for that annoying muffled boom, boom, boom — like a bass drum beating somewhere in the distance. I wondered what it could be until I realized that in the powerful stillness I could hear the beating of my own heart!
Holiday guests will soon be arriving. How will yours compare with Elle's "best guests" of Summer?
The field of candidates is a strong one, but three prize-winners have emerged from among this year’s competitors.
I am pleased to announce that second runner-up for Best Guest 2009 goes to Kim and Johnny from Virginia. These guests showed noteworthy tact: at breakfast they claimed to prefer oatmeal and toast over waffles and pancakes, requiring no extra hostess work on my behalf, or anywhere else for that matter.
Each morning they left the house by 10 a.m. on a self-directed adventure, and each evening they returned with a glowing report. Montreal for them was a cultural delight, the view from Cascade, incomparable. Enthusiasm counts a great deal in the selection of Best Guest.
The Mount Aeolus cave in Dorset, Vermont, cannot be entered.
From over 100 feet away the air reeks of decay. Daring to venture through the putrid odor, one would find over 20,000 dead bats littering the cave floor, all dead from a single diseasenamed white-nose syndrome (WNS).
This isn’t the only place this is happening; bats all over the Northeast are dying from this disease and it is spreading.
The first known case of WNS was discovered after a caver took photos in 2006 of bats with a strange white powder on their muzzles in Schoharie County, New York. In 2007 at a Northeast Cave
Conservancy board meeting, members started comparing notes on bat mortalities and began to notice a pattern and a problem.
Our ancestors were hardworking, innovative people – not by choice but out of necessity. For rural life 120 years ago, was mostly people making a living out of their farms, work that just in its nature is hard labor. Finishing high school and going to college was extremely rare.
However, one could still make a good living without very much formal education, but it required a strong “work ethic;” one which exhibited qualities such as fortitude, the willingness to sacrifice, tenacity and common sense. Also, it was necessary to develop survival instincts. It also didn’t hurt to possess some degree of intelligence and a nearly ironclad “constitution.”
The air was crisp and clean, biting even, as it whipped tendrils of snow across the colorless landscape. Trying my best to stay upright, I bumbled warily down a poorly shoveled drive to the lake and camp that rested below. Eventually, after upending myself numerous times, I made it to the bottom of the path and stumbled into the living room of my grandparent’s camp.
Reader Reflection
The air was crisp and clean, biting even, as it whipped tendrils of snow across the colorless landscape. Trying my best to stay upright, I bumbled warily down a poorly shoveled drive to the lake and camp that rested below. Eventually, after upending myself numerous times, I made it to the bottom of the path and stumbled into the living room of my grandparent’s camp.