Where Do I Start?

Here I am, facing a self-imposed deadline to post on the blog today. But, where do I start?

So much has happened in the last few days. I have no photos to back it up, nor do I have the will to detail it all. And yet, so much has happened!

We’ve had winter weather, let’s put it that way. As usual, it doesn’t match some of what the lower 48 has faced recently, but it created its own challenges for us here on the homestead.

Homestead view before thaw

This is what it looked like here yesterday (January 26, 2020) (Photo: Michelle L. Zeiger).

For starters, as I hinted at the end of the last post, Moose Encounter Season, our moose interaction had merely begun, not ended. We had so many visits, both from the calf alone, and its mother, that we couldn’t keep track of them. It ended (for now . . ?) on Saturday, when I carried a bucket out to the compost pile. Lost in my own thoughts, I glanced up to see Mama Moose straddling the path to the cottage, which we call Lover’s Lane, staring at me. Behind her, baby was well nested on the path. They may have spent the night there!

I went back inside, we leaned out the bedroom window and yelled until they left. When we hiked out on snowshoes shortly after, we followed their tracks up to the swamp, so we’d made our point.

We soon learned that the deep snow likely will keep them on our side of the ridge for a bit. In fact, we left our homestead wishing the northwest wind would fill in and charge our battery with the wind generator, which, sheltered by the ridge from that direction, stayed fluky most of the day, barely adding any charge to our bank.

Meanwhile, we hiked out to meet Aly, who was driving home for the weekend. We dropped off the ridge on the other side, into a serious blizzard!

I won’t detail the ordeal of getting Aly home, other than to hit some highlights: we dug a parking place for her, met her, rushed across the creek on a rising tide, literally hopping from one tipping ice floe to the next to make the crossing. We then had to hike closer to the the treeline, which meant postholing up to our waists in blowing snow (see Going “Posthole”). Thankfully, neighbors saw us wallowing by, and invited us in for a thaw and a cup of hot drink. That helped us wade to our trailhead, where we’d dropped our snowshoes, and make our way home. Hiking out to meet Aly ended up taking 4.5 hours.

The next day, we got about 15″ of snow in 24-hours, then the south wind came up and started melting it all. Today, Haines is shut down; the police, who send out warning texts to subscribers, simply say, “Don’t drive.” We’re hunkered down, enjoying fully charged batteries, playing games, making hot drinks, and looking out the windows now and then to say, “Wow.”

Homestead view after the thaw

Today, the snow cover is drastically reduced (January 27, 2020) (Photo: Mark A. Zeiger).

But, I need to take advantage of the thaw before new snow covers everything. Chores aren’t getting done sitting here typing this!

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2 Responses to Where Do I Start?

  1. Angie says:

    I haven’t been to town since Thursday. I’ve been shoveling snow for literally hours every day, in the wind, only to find my progress filled back in. Every day.

    A friend plowed my driveway Wednesday? Thursday? and yesterday it was knee-deep in snow again. All through the shoveling, playing in my head was a Jason Isbell song, “Are you living the life you chose? Or are you living the life that chose you?”

    I guess as long as the answer is “The life you chose,” it doesn’t seem as hard.

  2. Mark Zeiger says:

    Hi Angie, steady on! I heard about the person plowing the property across the street sealing in your driveway! The guy needs to have the authorities called on him. That’s outrageous, and dangerous.

    After hearing and seeing photos of what’s going on in town, I feel like a whiner.

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