the squibix family blog

Oh, we're ready to be outside! Even Zion spent a long time yesterday playing in the snow as the sleety rain gradually increased in intensity. Harvey pointed out how loud the ice balls were on raincoat hoods, and we all threw snowballs: the wet snow was so sticky the kids could even kind of pack it.

That jacket means good times: when it comes out it means that almost-two-year-olds are reaching the end of a long, frustrating winter!

In any case, the hens aren't the only ones looking forward to spring. I ordered some seeds a few days ago and spent a couple hours this morning reading about gardens and dreaming of greenery. Then this afternoon Harvey and I planted a few seeds; I just couldn't resist.

We're nearly finished reading The Long Winter, which has been our constant companion for a little over a week now. I tell you, while our own winter obviously pales by comparison to the Dakota winter of 1880-1881, we were felt as chilled as Laura as we read about her blizzards and listened to our own little snowstorms blowing outside.

There were moments when we went outside and were surprised that it wasn't forty below here!

Right now it's nowhere near there, but warm and raining. Already late this afternoon there were a few little bare patches in the yard. It'll be a while yet before we can get at the garden, and the hens at their new grass, but our wait won't be nearly as hard as the Ingalls'!

Of course, it'll be quite a while before anything gets in the ground outside, and we're reminded of that dramatically this evening as we face warnings for the Blizzard Of The Century that's apparently bearing down on us. The National Weather Service says we can expect 18-24 inches of snow, but that hasn't stopped blizzard-starved New Englanders from confidently predicting 30, 35, 40 inches of snow over tomorrow and Saturday. Even 18 inches would be pretty epic; 18.2 in Boston would be enough to put the storm into 10th place all time for Boston, knocking the December 2010 storm out of the top ten. I'm all for it. Unlike a December storm—that particular one marked the start of a crazy snowy winter where we never saw the ground until March—a February blizzard won't leave much of a long-term mark. It should be just enough to give us some fun snow adventures, and maybe get Harvey the snow-fort he's been dreaming of, before melting away to help water and fertilize my little seedlings. The best of both worlds!

I did make him put on PJs before he went to bed, and he's also piled under two fleece blankets and two comforters. It's going to be a cold cold night, but that doesn't mean we're going to turn the heat up. If you want to raise kids who don't mind the cold, you can't coddle em! Nope, when it gets chilly we put on another blanket, just like Laura and Mary. We do let Harvey go outside in the winter, though—it doesn't do to follow literary examples too closely. After all, he needs to put that great cold-tolerance to good use.

There's no getting too excited, of course, because who knows what this bizarro winter will bring next. At least the extreme thaw let me finally get the hoses inside, a task I entirely neglected earlier thanks to our lack of real snow experience over the last 20+ months. We're told there's a little snow in the forecast for tonight and tomorrow, so we will see.

Even if all my outdoor plants are extinguished, I must say I won't be unhappy to see more snow. It turns out I don't have that much taste for arugula in the winter anyways, and struggling all the way through the winter probably wouldn't give the kale that much of a head start over seeds planted in early spring. And I actually enjoy snow in the garden: besides insulating the soil, preventing run-off, and even delivering a little bit of nitrogen from the atmosphere, it also looks pretty. If you ask me, nothing is nicer on the winter farm than some well-trodden paths.

You can see that I was so excited about making paths that I had that one quite well-trodden before we had even filled the next bucket of compost. Here's hoping tomorrow's snow will give me more treading experience.

Well, I suppose there's also the economic effect of the storm: we hear this evening that school is cancelled again tomorrow due to the number of trees and power lines down, which means we're already out 40% of our weekly income. Oh well, at least we got some cookies baked and applesauce made this afternoon, and tomorrow we'll be able to tour the devastation in a leisurely fashion.

Really, I'm not entirely sure what to think about this storm. Last time it wasn't no thing, but this one is record-breaking for both its size and the depths of its pressure, so perhaps we should be more concerned; but I really can't think of any other preparations we need to make. We already have a couple weeks worth of food in the pantry, although Leah did venture out into the craziness yesterday just to experience it, and also to get some ice for the freezer. It wouldn't do to have some hundreds of dollars of locally-raised meat go bad in the even of a power outage! In what I can only view as a commentary on the shared insanity of pre-storm shopping, she let Harvey ride his scooter in the Whole Foods.

As the wind picks up tomorrow I'll make sure nothing's blowing away outside, and we'll do our best to deal with the cabin fever that will no doubt be affecting our three dependents. (To that end our library haul, besides books, also included a Thomas and Friends DVD, not to be watched until the storm is in full swing; just before bed, Harvey asked, "when it's light is it the day you're talkin about?" Yes my son, tomorrow is tomorrow.)

Big weather events like this are about the only time I wish we still had TV, because when you see the reporters squinting against heavy rain while waves crash on the pier behind them you feel like a storm is really something. Without that shared experience, it's just a little bit of wind and rain, over before you know it. I'll take pictures if anything big falls over.

The key to our survival has been that, unlike in the states hit by the heat wave, it's been getting cool at night. That means that while we start the night sweating on top of the sheets we end it fighting for the covers that we kicked to the foot of the bed earlier—and also that the fans can cool the whole house. We do have an air conditioner that we've been using occasionally to cut the humidity, or when we come in from a really hot walk or bike ride, but so far we haven't needed to run it all day just to survive.

And bicycling isn't always hot. In fact, I've found it to be wonderfully cooling under the right circumstances: that is, not pulling the fully loaded trailer up a hill greater than 5% grade. As long as we can keep a reasonable rate of speed up the breeze of our forward motion is just the thing on these humid days. Today Harvey and I did a nice 12-mile loop that took in the North Bridge at its furthest extent (putting our feet in the water was an added bonus!). He probably enjoyed it more: not only did he have the breeze without having to work for it, he also used the time on the bicycle to snatch a quick nap. Life isn't bad when you're three.

Waiting for me to get my things together Harvey dug a little in the snow and told me that he thought there was enough to make a bunny hole. Since by that he meant a totally awesome snow cave in which he could sit comfortably upright, I was sadly forced to inform him that that would not be possible. Instead, we made a snowman.

He was very fond of our creation, only disappointed that we couldn't make it a talking snowman. He spent a fair amount of time hugging it.

In fact, so enamored was he that he wanted me to stick him to the snowman with snow or, failing that, to cover himself with snow (I suppose to be more like the snowman?). He worked hard for a while, but to his considerable distress it just wouldn't stay on.

If the snowman couldn't have Harvey it could at least have a baby made entirely of snow to console it, and Harvey could be consoled inside with dry pants and a story and an imminent departure to Grandma's house for my birthday party. So everyone survived.

Not that everybody was working, of course:

While yesterday really was quite warm, the effect is at least partly psychological: no snow and bright sunny skies make us think of spring, even when the temperature is still coolish. So last weekend we had a picnic!

Of course, as I type these words it's just started snowing. But we know it won't last!

The special Thanksgiving farmers market in Lexington this afternoon was another nice sign of the season. We picked up some potatoes, onions, winter squashes, and beets—nowhere near enough to take us all the way through the winter, sure, but symbolic of the year's last harvest. After that I suppose it's the grocery store again. Some day we'll get the root cellar working. We also picked up a tomato, at Harvey's request. Who am I to deny the not-entirely-seasonal desires of my offspring (although I do draw the line at taking the seeds out of it for him when we eat it—where on earth did he get that idea?!).

We also started out Thanksgiving eating this evening, or Leah and I did: Harvey was asleep, worn out from the market, and Zion's dinner was limited to mashed bananas, neither Thanksgiving-related nor particularly seasonal. We have nearly a week of Thanksgiving feasting planned, which is very much in the spirit of 1621 and also in the spirit of my instinctive desire to fatten up for the cold weather. Yet another important sign of fall.

In fact, we weren't taken completely unaware, since the forecast looked pretty dire. We cleaned up the garden, tried desperately to get the car with passable winter traction running, and made sure to head home in good time after helping the Adamses make their final moving preparations. The rain changed to snow when we were about halfway home.

As I predicted Harvey was much more appreciative this time, especially when primed with a bedtime reading of The Snowy Day. Yesterday morning dawned bright and clear so we were able to make it to church, and there was still plenty of snow left when we got home for the entertainments pictured above. There's still a fair amount now, in fact, even after a full day of heavy dripping from the eaves. Not enough, though, to explain the continued round of cancellations: I was home from work today, and will be again tomorrow, which is of course wonderful from a family point of view though slightly taxing on the finances.

But there are still things like that clogging up the works everywhere, we understand, not to mention vast swathes of houses and businesses (and schools) without electricity. Not that we're bothered at all: we only lost power for an undetermined but brief amount of time while we were sleeping Saturday night, and while we did have to detour through a muddy dirt parking lot to avoid the particular fallen tree in the photo (and make other divers course corrections as needed for other hazards) we were able to get everywhere we were going without any real trouble.

Unless, that is, you count going to other people's houses to get candy, something that Harvey was particularly excited about. We even practiced at home to make sure he had his "trick-or-treat" down. He did, but at the first house he went to we got the sad news that Halloween has been rescheduled for Saturday. Is that even possible?!

So. Harvey is mollified by one piece of candy from our supply (which has now been opened and so is at risk of not surviving until next weekend...), and I suppose we'll do the whole thing again. I also suppose I'll have to go back to work at some point. But not tomorrow!

It fell on just about everything, and stuck much more than a first snowfall before the end of October had any right to. On our apple trees, for example, which led me to marvel at how long it's seemed since we planted them in April. How can weeks and months go by so quickly and the year as a whole so slowly? I think feeling like we've had Zion around absolutely forever has something to do with it.

He's obviously too young yet to enjoy the snow much, though he did look delightfully rosy-cheeked after our walk this evening. Harvey I think will come around. There's four to eight inches in the forecast for tomorrow night, if you can believe that, so maybe we'll be able to modify his early opinion with a snowman or two.

Not that we wouldn't, in some way, be glad to be done eating tomatoes. We've certainly had our fair share over the past month or two—the sores in my mouth testify to the effects of our current high-acid diet. But not really. Besides how delicious and nutritious our tomatoes and other veggies are, there's something wonderful about all the free food available right outside our kitchen door. I'm not ready for that to end!

Of course, even after the tomatoes are reduced to mush by freezing temperatures the carrots and collards will still be going strong. Hmm, I should have planted more cold-weather crops.

Yes, as part of our preparations we picked every vulnerable veggie that was either ripe or close to it. Anyone want some jalapenos? We're most concerned about the tomatoes, which are almost overwhelming their cages in calm weather, never mind in the 80 mile-per-hour gusts included in the current forecast for tomorrow. We did our best to provide supplementary support with stakes made from two-by-threes and cut down hockey sticks, but I fear even that may be too little.

Aside from that, though, I think we're pretty ready. All the scattered lumber has been collected and piled on the porch, the bicycles and strollers and potted plants are inside, and the pumps stand ready in the basement. Of course I wish that the initial ramp-up of wind was happening in the day time so I'd be able to more easily react to any problems, but we do what we can. And if I do have to get up in the middle of the night to secure something, I won't complain too much: after all, it isn't every day we have a hurricane around here! Tropical storm? Whatever.

So far, though, things are doing really well. Sure, the peas might have kept producing a little longer had they not been so parched, but then again it could have been the heat that did them in. We're harvesting zucchini now, and they're growing as vigorously as we could ever wish; cucumbers also are coming along nicely. Cucumbers are a staple of Middle Eastern cuisine, and unless I'm very much mistaken it doesn't rain too much in the Middle East. Should be fine, right?

In all seriousness, I'm doing what I can to help the plants get by with minimal watering. They're mulched in some cases (though I'm using less mulching than last year, since I think that in some cases it slowed down ripening) and in others the leaf canopy itself keeps the ground shaded. And I'm keeping my eyes open for wilting: I watered the beans yesterday and most everything today. Of course, I did it very carefully, very low flow right at the roots. I made sure not to waste even one precious drop. Sure, rain less than an hour later kind of ruined the effect, but I'll take it. The cool air that came with it is nice too.

All that rain made well-rooted plants just shoot up, chief among them the grass, so Friday evening the suburbs resounded with the roar of lawnmowers. We didn't get ours out until this afternoon, and it was a struggle getting the whole lawn done, mostly because of how much Harvey wanted to be involved in the process.

More relaxing was a stroll with the new double stroller—the first time I got to take it out (Leah was driven by the beginning of the good weather and the fussiness of the children to make the inaugural voyage yesterday, and I believe that she has more to say about that and the machine itself).

Better still was the summer food: burgers and watermelon. Sure, the watermelon was from somewhere down south, but we can't be perfect all the time. We wanted to eat outside but by dinner time it was rapidly cooling—too cold out for Zion by 5:00 and for the rest of us to want to sit around by 6:00. Oh well, we'll take a little more spring weather while we wait.

Me and Harvey made it outside to ooh and ah, and Mama appreciated the pictures. Zion'll understand what he missed in four or five years, I figure.

There was a break in the precipitation just as I was leaving for work so I took the bike, which would have been perfect had I been wearing footwear for rain rather than for snow. It was pretty wet out there. Still, while my feet were damp all day, at least they were plenty warm. And on the way home the bike path was even plowed!

I stopped for a minute coming home to snap this picture. See, you can't keep a good spring down for long!

As always, hold down shift and reload if there are any traces of the old style lingering in your browser, and please let me know if anything looks amiss or doesn't work the way it should. There may well be a few issues: as well as changing the style this time I also updated the blog machine. It wasn't right that other folks were using the latest and greatest version when we, the bold originators of the system, were stuck with second-class product.

One thing that changed between versions was the name of the cookie that stores your saved comment information, so you'll have to reenter that if you're used to the blog remembering your name. Sorry about that! I suggest you post a comment to test it out, and reacquaint yourselves with our software.

I've spent the past couple hours reading about the earthquakes in Japan, which I hadn't even really known about thanks to my half-hearted news fast. Maybe I should have continued not knowing; one reason I'm off news (except as revealed to me through The Economist) is that there are a great many things happening in the world. They will continue to happen whether or not I know about them, and in many cases I will be better off if I don't. That being said, my thoughts and prayers are off course with the everyone affected by the disasters.

And even crazy snowy winters end eventually!

Despite all that we had to make one small outing so that Harvey could get the opportunity to use an umbrella. He's a big fan, apparently. Leah ordered him one off the internet but it hasn't come yet; this temporary replacement model harmonizes very well with his outfit, though!

Rascal didn't join us; he frankly thought we were crazy to be out in the weather. He didn't bother with the tv either, but was content to spend the rainy day the way dogs have done for centuries—but with the addition of a comfy couch, of course.

I had to drag him out on his afternoon walk, but once he was in the woods and already wet he consented to enjoy himself a little. All in all, we both enjoyed and suffered from the enforced relaxation of illness and wet. I'm not ready for vacation to be over.

Admittedly it's just a teeny area—maybe three feet square—in the lee of the hemlock trees, but still. Since the cave under the hemlocks is Harvey's favorite place in the yard, he made a beeline for it this afternoon when we went outside. How pleasant it was to sit on the grass in the warm sun! Of course, some folks still prefer the snow:

You can see that things are still mostly white. But the sun is strong and warm, and things are melting even when the thermometer doesn't make it above freezing. Harvey knows the baby is coming "when the snow melts", so he's cheering it on. And very much enjoying being outside again, too.

Unlike yesterday, though, Harvey was able to get out of the house a little. He's starting to get this walking on snow business. Good thing, because I hear there might be more coming on Saturday!

Actually, as it happens the frenzy is far from being entirely due to psychological reasons. There's an awful lot of snow around here already, and no one is really sure where we're going to put the next load; or, as it happens, if our roofs will be able to handle it. Breathlessness, then, comes both from excitement (or fear, depending on temperament) and from all the work we had to do to clear some room for the next few days of snow removal.

Actually, the caption to that picture doesn't even go far enough: in fact I had to move some of that snow three times. First I chucked it off the roof, then I cleared it from the steps; then this evening I spent some time rearranging the piles and pushed it off the top of one of them. I was so proud of the elegant way I prepared my heaps of snow to be added to that I wanted to take a picture of that too, but it was after dark. Oh well, it'll only get more impressive tomorrow.

And we're on the second floor! (yes, the porch roof). We had to laugh, at the absurdity of that much snow and at the precise resemblance the snowdrift bears to the ones keeping the farmer in his house in that Shaun the Sheep episode (sorry for no youtube link: the BBC is brutal with their takedown notices).

I kept laughing when I went outside, perhaps because having to throw snow onto a pile higher than your head while shoveling the front walk is naturally amusing. The cars looked especially silly after I cleared the snow off of them; before I did they almost in proportion to the mountains on either side of the driveway, but shorn of their covering they huddled dwarfed beneath the piles. It was hard, though, to get anyone to come outside to share my mirth, because Harvey is kind of over winter. It's understandable: with all his gear on he can barely walk anyways, and three plus feet of snow on the ground doesn't help any. He's kind of given up.

Rascal, on the other hand, continues to try his best. He loves the snow on general principles, but even he is having a little trouble with the magnitude of what we're now dealing with. The upside is that, while he still exhibits his traditional snow-day rambunctiousness in the woods, it's pretty much physically impossible for him to run away. At the beginning of the walk he took a few stabs at romping away in one direction or another, but with the snow up to his shoulders in front it was pretty hard for him to make much forward progress. Even the path, with eight or ten inches of new snow in it, was tough going. I felt so bad for him by the end that I tried to get him to go behind me so I could break trail for him with my snowshoes, but he was having none of it. Exhausted though he may have been, he knew that his job was to scout. (As a side note, it's a good thing we know he's getting a lot of exercise: a vet visit today revealed he's now almost 80 pounds! While most of that is probably due to Harvey's unwanted food, some of it has got to be added muscle mass.)

My last chore of the evening was taking out the compost, which involved a great deal of shoveling and also snowshoeing. So much work, and it was all in vain when I discovered that everything in the bucket was frozen solid and could not be induced to come out by any efforts I could muster. And it was a really warm day too, as evidenced by Harvey's wardrobe in that picture up above. Still, making paths around the yard in order to accomplish household tasks made me feel like I real hardy northern farmer. I could get used to all this snow, I think.

It's hard to tell from the photo, but the snow is pretty high on either side of the walk. I have hopes of constructing a multi-room snow house under the pile to the right and a toboggan run down the one to the left. (Harvey and I actually started the latter project this evening; he was understandably very reluctant to leave it to come inside to bed.) High enough that the neighborhood kids could perch happily up on it for a photo, and not one of them could get up there by themselves. The three-year-old (pictured center) was happy to give the little ones a push to help them get down, though!

As soon as the snow stopped on Monday we all rushed outside to try some sledding. We even drove over to Lexington to take a few runs down the old ancestral sledding hill ("The Piggy", as it's known). It was pretty cold and windy, so Harvey made sure to bundle up:

Today we did some more sledding, in rather less extreme conditions:

We also built a snowman—we practically had to, given Harvey's love of all things snowman-related (it's thanks to the book, movie, and doll that he now points out snowmen on, for example, the promotional signs inside Whole Foods).

Harvey can't really walk in the eight inches or so of snow that cover the lawn, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it. Several times every day, whether outside or just looking out the window, he proclaims apropos of nothing: "snowy day!" Or as he has it, "Nowey Daiy!" I love it too, boyo.

The other thing we notice with the coming of winter is that drivers are even less aware of cyclists on the road. I suspect it's a sort of cognitive dissonance: they see me, but so little do they expect to encounter a bicycle that their brain fails to process the visual information and they, for example, make not the slightest gesture towards stopping at the crosswalks. Be careful guys, my brakes don't work so well in the rain anymore!

That being said, I did enjoy the first occasion I had in quite a while to employ the lights on my bike. It shows how hard-core I am, you know, setting out on a moonless night to get some milk from the store. I don't know if it's more or less hard-core than biking to work in a thunderstorm like I did on Wednesday; much of a muchness perhaps. And this evening only one car—pick-up truck, actually—offered to hit me, by trying to pull out of a side street without stopping. I was so surprised by the driver's failure to even pause that I would have been flattened had he not seen me and braked in time. I'll take the head-lamp next time: maybe if I shine it in people's eyes they'll notice me.

I don't know if this is global-climate-change related, but when the first three stories on google news are heatwave fires in Russia, floods in China, and floods in Pakistan you start to worry. Our friends the Jehovah's Witnesses are paying close attention to it all, I'm sure. As for me, I don't know whether to pay close attention or cover my ears and shout "la-la-la". We ride bikes to the playground instead of driving, does that help?

It seems counter-intuitive, certainly, to choose a human-powered mode of transportation when the news outlets are broadcasting heat advisories and things, and we do get some odd looks from motorists. But a little bit of driving in the car today (we had to take Rascal to somewhere he could swim) showed us that, in today's weather at any rate, biking is actually cooler than driving. At least, than driving in my car with it's regrettably inefficient air-conditioning. The movement of the bike even at low speed creates a wonderful cooling breeze, an effect that isn't replicated by the much faster air around the car: not enough of it gets in, not nearly enough to counteract the effects of sitting inside a metal-and-glass box. The only thing to be careful of is going too fast. Start to work too hard, of course, and that breeze doesn't have a chance of dissipating the heat that'll quickly build up. Now if only I could find a way of dissipating the huge clouds of smugness that envelop me after I travel anywhere by bicycle...

Chatting with Helen was very nice, even if I did manage to restrain myself from asking about her writing. Which, of course, I highly recommend you should read: The Last Samurai is a fantastic book, even if you don't get a copy that is personally signed by the author and inscribed "Next year in Jerusalem". I can't take credit for the second part: it was her idea.

Biblical-type Flooding: The Return

The storm that wetted Leah's lower parts also caused widespread havoc up and down the east coast, as well as in our cellar. Actually, we were rather better off than most people because we don't care so much about the water that found it's way in: we hadn't managed to clean up from the last time, so all we had to do was turn on the newly-acquired pumps and send it right back out again. Well, that and stay up all night Wednesday night keeping an eye on them, but that's just how it goes. We're very happy to not be living in the path of a river, as photographs I've seen suggest that riparian flooding was quite a bit worse than what we had to deal with. And now it's going to be 80° tomorrow. The climate is broken, and folks don't mind because "at least it's not snow" and they like warm weather. Oh my.

The Coming Festival

We have made it through nearly all of Lent and the associated Leap of Faith, and did it ever seem long. Not onerous at all, just long: as if time in February and March was passing slowly. It does tend to, perhaps. In any case, I did quite well with the Bible-reading discipline, and less well with the prayer. We have not, for example, seen a ten-fold increase in unique visitors to this blog, nor have I found a new job for next year. I don't feel let down: the problem, if there is one besides needing to wait a bit, lies with me. At church this evening we pretty much celebrated Easter on Good Friday. and we've also run out of Matzah: two signs that the celebratory season of spring is upon us. I will of course continue praying, maybe even more than before!

Hopefully more blogging than before as well: I've got to keep up with Leah!

Still, it's sunny now and warming up quickly, and the daffodil shoots are already three inches tall. And talk of gardening is popping up all over the internet—and not just gardening, but the sort of real lifestyle changes that go under the heading "urban homesteading". Or, of course, suburban homesteading. Folks are writing about starting seeds, preserving food, living locally and sustainably... even dropping out of the rat race to raise chickens!

Alright, so that last link from the New York Times Magazine isn't so good. Not only are the folks at the Times are a little slow in acknowledging the "Radical Homemaker" movement, they're pretty classist and dismissive in their presentation ("highly educated women"? Times needs to make sure we don't think these folks are plain old hicks). But hey, there are real people who want to have chickens—not to mention gardens and pantries full of homemade preserves—and I think that's pretty cool!

[Edit to add one more garden-starting blog post.]

Actually, the whole flood scene was pretty exciting, barring the hours spent in the basement and the complete lack of sleep. As someone who likes water, I was happy to see so much of it pretty much everywhere else but in my house; for example, the vigorous overflow of Elm Brook and my little Hartwell Brook (it's in our woods, so we feel proprietary towards it) was something to behold. I didn't take any pictures—fears of destroying my camera in the deluge—but suffice it to say that I went in up to my waist walking along the bank of Elm Brook. It's usually a pretty good drop to the water, too: three or four feet. So seven feet above normal stage? That'll do some damage.

Of course, there were all the other usual flood accompaniments: storm drains spewing water, folks ignoring warning signs and stalling their cars in flooded roadways, journalists hyping the story.... Though actually, I was kind of disappointed in the last one. This was a big storm, after all! Somehow, though, the fact that it was forecast to be "just rain" kept it from getting the "Wintermaggedon" press you might have expected. Or maybe the journalists were just snowpocolypsed out. By proxy, for the local rags: we haven't had any weather to talk about all winter!

The pump (note: now singular, and a longer story than it's worth it to recount) is still chugging away down in the basement so we're not home and dry yet, but tomorrow is supposed to be bright and sunny. As I type this I notice it has just about stopped raining, for the first time in about 58 hours, so that's something!

In fact, it's far and away the worst basement flooding we've seen in our years in this house, including the couple times the downspout broke and poured water directly into the foundation, or when the hot water heater decided to dump all its water out onto the floor (which seems to have been unblogged). In both those cases, a whole lot of water came in at once, but then it stopped and we just had to deal with the aftermath. Today, it keeps coming in.

It might have been the conditioning from those prior experiences, but when I first saw water all over the floor I didn't panic. We'll just move a few things around; the floor's been wet before, there's nothing there that'll take any harm. After a while, though, I started to notice how the water bubbling up from the intersection between floor and wall was rippling as it flowed merrily down our uneven basement floor to join the rapidly spreading lake at the rate of, oh, I'd say about a half-gallon a minute. It was clear we would need to procure pumps. Oh, and they were sold out at the hardware store. Naturally.

Happily, Leah's dad was over when the disaster struck (or rather, was noticed) and he helped us borrow a pair of wonderful machines that are, even as I type, chugging away down there in the wet. Around 7:30 I turned them off because I needed to get some dinner I and was worried about them sucking dry, something that seemed imminent. How happy I was to have solved the problem! As you could have predicted, when I went back downstairs in an hour or so all the water was back. It's still raining, after all! So the pumps are back in action, and as long as they don't clog and we don't lose power (too terrible to contemplate!) they can keep ahead of the inflow. The only problem is, I need to stay up to monitor them. Work is going to be tough tomorrow!

While it's still coldish, it's nowhere near as bitter as it has been for most of the last month. Since we three squibix family boys were hanging out by ourselves for most of the afternoon, we decided to take advantage of the warmer temps and play outside. Rascal was very appreciative, since it's been ages since he got to run on the lawn. Harvey was nonplussed for the same reason; and in his case the indoor period was a significantly longer fraction of his life. Not since early November has he been able to move around outside under his own power—a full one-fourth of his life! He hardly knew what to do with himself.

In his defense, the design of his snowsuit may have had something to do with his immobility. Whenever I put it on him I can't help but think of the 'hardsuit' of science fiction (and, I suppose, deep-sea diving fact). Like space marines in their larger-than-life armored suits, Harvey's snowsuit-encased limbs are extended several inches beyond his actual hands and feet. Unlike the space marines, though, Harvey doesn't have neurofeedback powered servo-motors to help him move his gigantic outfit around. Also he was disappointed he couldn't get his hands out to eat the grass. Oh well; it was still nice sitting outside.

(Note our lack of snow. Unlike Washington DC and, I don't know, Florida, we have not been seeing a great many snowstorms this winter. Just cold cold weather. Why aren't we ice skating?!)

You have to admit, it's a little embarrassing for all of us when we've spent the day at home and there's barely any snow on the ground at 5:00 pm. Better luck next time!

Sincerely,
Your employees

(Hey, maybe it'll snow all night and we'll need another snow day tomorrow!)

Today at work I was asked incredulously why I like this sort of cold, after I was overheard loudly proclaiming my love for it (I had to! everyone else was complaining!). The reason that came to mind was that I very much enjoy being able to bundle up enough to go outside in whatever sort of conditions might arise. As I've said for years, the right gear makes any temperatures comfortable—at least, any temperatures that we can expect to encounter in this neck of the woods. And there's something downright cozy about being snug and warm in layers of fleece, wool, canvas, and that plastic-y stuff that wind pants are made out of while the wind howls about you.

So that's what I said. But I have other reasons too. One, when it's below 20° F I'm pretty much guaranteed not to get wet, and I like that. And with a windchill well below 0° I'm not likely to get hot either, another plus. It's also fun to be able stand cheerfully by while other folks are wailing and moaning. (Note: this applies to my coworkers, not to my wife. She has my sympathy for her struggles with dog and baby and cold.)

Hard soul-searching reveals one final reason: I like extremes. If it's going to be hot, I want to see just how hot it can get; ditto for cold. Rain, wind, floods, snow: you name it, I like to see what the weather can dish out. And it's not just natural phenomena, either. If a traffic jam is big enough, even stuck in it myself I'm likely to giggle with glee at the level of chaos that can emerge on the roadways. Obviously, I don't take this too far: even in my thirst for mayhem I hate to see anyone really suffer, and I wouldn't wish disaster on anyone personally. But since the cold isn't going cause permanent damage to any students or faculty at Harrington Elementary, I can enjoy it with a clean conscience. So in other words, my coworkers are right: I am crazy, probably.

Reading was of course not all I did this weekend; we also had a brunch today. More importantly, I managed to completely forget about the American-type football playoffs ongoing yesterday and today until they were nearly all over, and then continue to not pay any attention to them once I did remember. Which is pretty good, because I have been informed that my local team performed rather poorly. Ha ha, suckers, if I don't watch, I don't care! This no tv thing is pretty awesome. I bet Jill Homer doesn't watch tv either!

The bike path in Lexington is plowed, and it is wonderful. In fact, it being plowed is the best Christmas present ever, and I would like to express those sentiments to the Lexington DPW. Do you think they get email or should I, like, send them a letter? The bike path in Bedford is not plowed, and it is terrible. Having not rode yesterday (not wimped out, I had to do errands!) I assumed that I could push through what was probably only light snow, and it's only about a mile, right? I could not push through. I tried, but in fact only made it about 8 feet. Really. I like ice, but so far I have to say that I need some more practice with the snow biking. So I had to detour some distance out of my way on the roads.

And biking on the roads isn't nearly as fun, because of the cars. I even almost got run off the road by a school bus! I can tell you, when I was doing traffic duty later I didn't hold up the line of cars when he wanted to pull out, like I usually do! Because of all the people almost killing me, I was in a foul mood by the time I got to work. I was thus ready to about bite the head off of anyone who made a comment about how I must be so cold, or don't I notice it's cold, or I'm crazy for riding when it's so cold. You know. "I'm not talking about that anymore" was the politest of my planned responses.

In the event, however, no one said anything beyond asking if I was able to take the bike path. Really, they were all very polite and pleasant. Don't you just hate that when you're grumpy! But you know, I can never stay grumpy for long.

Actually, I continue to be surprised at how warm biking makes me. Even today, when the thermometer read 10° as I was leaving the house, I needed to stop and take off layers. I started with my ski mittens on, then switched to my double-thick fleece mittens, and then down to just the thin layer of fleece. I also ditched the thin windbreaker and unzipped my fleece coat. I could have even taken the fleece coat off, I think, and finished the ride in the same clothes as I wore inside all day—which has been my practice most days so far with temperature ranges from 20° to, oh 45° or so. So in other words, I have not yet discovered the lower bound beyond which the heat generated from aerobic exercise is stripped away faster than I'm able to replenish it.

That's only as long as I'm moving, of course. I took the precaution of sticking my big LL Bean field coat on the dork rack (the coat that I've worn every day of every winter for most of my life, until I started this biking thing this year). I needed it for the traffic work, what with the standing still and all—but even there, I had to wait about five minutes before I was cool enough to put it on. I also wanted it just in case I got a flat or wrecked or something. I didn't want to end up hypothermic by the side of the road; if that happened, I'd never be able to make fun of folks for complaining about the cold again!

(I do wish I had a picture of cold from the commute. I do not, because I'm afraid to take my camera along: it is large and fragile. Someday I'll work up the courage, though.)

I walked my bike over that spot on my way home.

Because we were having a home church morning, we had plenty of time to bundle up and head out for a nice long walk. Too much time to get ready, Rascal thought: he was itching to get out from the moment he woke up and saw the snow. Harvey didn't know one way or another; it's his first real snow (that October stuff didn't really count) but he doesn't really have the capacity to enjoy it yet. So we enjoyed it for him, and I think he picked up a little bit of our joy.

Surprisingly, not everyone is as enthusiastic about this early winter weather as I am. In fact, most non-children seem quite unhappy! I can't understand why... would they maybe prefer rain? I'm sorry to break it to you, but it's very unlikely that we're going to be able to squeeze in another day at the beach this year, so I don't see how a little snow or cold weather inconveniences anyone in the least. But to each their own, I guess. Me, I enjoy snow at least through March.

[I have to add: one group who definitely enjoyed the snow was the Patriots and their fans. I wasn't going to watch the game—I'm too good for tv now—but I had to tune in to see them play in the snow. And so I got to watch a beating for the ages, which is nice.]

By the way, the autocomplete informs me that I have used this title before; googling "'cold comfort' site:squibix.net" tells me it was this post. Just in case you were keeping track.

4:00 - Two and a half inches on the ground, a great deal more in the air.

5:50 - Four inches. The lower bound of the prediction for the day has been reached, although considering that it happened well over an hour after sunset, I don't know if it counts. I'm not sure how that works, actually.

bedtime - Seven inches.

first light - 8°F on the thermometer on the porch, light snow and heavy wind. Too cozy inside to go out and check snow depth.

What with all the thunderstorms—literally at least one almost every day for the past week and a half, and more forecast every day as far as the fine folks at Weather Underground are willing to predict—we've become a little blasé. Thunder that once would have sent us scurrying for cover we now ignore completely; otherwise we wouldn't be able to get anything done! Today I walked the dog and weeded the garden while two separate storms grumbled away on the horizon. When you've just heard what the thunder sounds like when the lightning hits within a mile, the 20-mile distant storms don't seem so bad.

I only feel bad for the folks who want to go swimming in public pools. If they're only allowed to go in half an hour after thunder is last heard, that doesn't leave much of the day!

After half an hour or so things calmed down, and I ventured out (getting instantly very wet indeed from the puddles, oh well). I was pleasantly surprised to find the market still standing, though damp and very puddly. After all that I didn't buy anything, for reasons discussed above, but I always like the scene in any case. It was worth a try.

I liked the scene so much, in fact, that I almost stayed too long: it was getting awful dark as I made my way home in some haste. I still had it, though, and the next downpour held off until five minutes after I got home.

So local were these little storms that the first one, that inundated Lexington and was so fierce people were pulling their cars to the side of the road rather than trying to drive in it, dropped barely a drop on Bedford. We would have been set if things had gone otherwise, though, because I called Leah to tell her about the hail and she did an awesome job putting up a tarp over the poor delicate tomatoes. Just in case, right? I hope the next rain we get is more general as well as more gentle.

Now, even though we have a fieldstone foundation we're usually pretty free from floods, even during snow-melt season, so I was surprised to see that a short-lived deluge would have caused such an inundation. Was this a troubling portent of things to come? Is our foundation disintegrating entirely?! Today, though, I think I found out what happened. The downspout at one corner of the house normally has a little curve at the bottom of it, to direct the flow away from the foundation and onto a concrete chute (which is, by the way, a historical artifact; probably cast in 1925, if not before). The force of the rain (or something) knocked the curved part right off, so the all water coming off of one side of the roof was being channeled directly into the foundation.

Happily, not much damage was done, at least immediately. The only casualty was our bag of ice-melt—obtained at great cost and effort by my mother in the midst of a state-wide ice-melt shortage last winter—which absorbed as much water as it could hold and bloated to three times its normal size. I do hope we have a few dry days coming up though, or else the basement might not smell so sweet come summer.

And now that downspout is jammed together tight, let me assure you!

The only objection I have to the cold is that it makes us sick. I'm mostly better, but today it was Leah's turn to lie in bed and moan all day. Actually, she did much better than I did on my day of sickness: she made several work-related calls and even managed to get to school to give a presentation. In between, though, she relied on the care and assistance of her loving husband in every way. Turnabout is fair play!

So in other words, we have high hopes for April.