A LITTLE SNOW

I think it's perty stupid to name every damn storm that comes down the pike. It used to be only hurricanes that got named, and female names, at that. I still like that idea; females can be stubborn, unidirectional, and occasionally, devastating. Well, the worthwhile ones, anyway. I never got into the Andrew or Hugo thing, though I went through the latter. Camille, Agnes, Doris, Sandy. I can get into those names. Katrina? That name scared me from before the storm even formed. I know a Katrina, and believe me, that storm has nothing on her.

So when they said "Juno" was coming this way with an expected snowfall measured in feet as opposed to inches, I laughed. "Juno? That's the name of a movie with a pregnant girl!"
But, as a now ex-stormchaser with many tornadoes under my belt, I know a serious radar signature when I see one, and though I was brought up in Tornado Alley, I know a thing or two about weather in general. And when the Governor shuts down the highways with a Travel Ban, I pay attention. It's the first time I've ever seen one of those for an entire state. I also lived up here before this latest foray into New England Madness, so nor'easters are not unknown to me. Take a wet storm in Louisiana, add some cold air from Alberta, send the storm up the Mid Atlantic, and watch the snow fall in New England. It could be up in the Litchfield Hills (northwest CT), it could be The Corridor (south central CT to Springfield MA). It could be The Cape, New Hampshire, or Maine. But they get crazy winter weather anyway.
It was Southeast Connecticut this time.
Say hello to Juno.

 This is the radar signature for a classic Nor'easter; it was on Unisys the afternoon of the storm that was progged to hit last night.. We've already had eleven nor'easters this season, some producing many inches of rain. But if there is a vigorous cold front behind or within it, expect snow. A LOT of snow. The question is, 'Who will get it?'

 Nine a.m. Apparently WE got it. Snow was falling heavily, as it did all last night and all day today. Still is at five thirty this evening. At this point I had dug a path to the gas grill to allow the Short Dog to get out and pee. The Tall dogs would have to fend for themselves, and though it doesn't show in this pic, they had already plowed their own path through the yard. A circular one that led back to the door.

 

 I like wind-blown snow sculptures. The space beneath the truck allowed the very dry snow to blow right through, leaving some nice curved ledges. At this point, I was not going to go out to take pictures; I love my camera and had no intention of it going out into the storm with me. This was taken from the side door's protective awning this morning; the better pics would have to wait until the flying stuff stopped. It didn't. It just slowed. There were a few moments of nearly-not-snow, but the wind blew enough off the roof and down my collar to make it seem like it was still snowing, Then it would start again

 

 Speckle Pup says "Can I go out in it? Hunh? Can I? Can I? Can I Hunh? Can I?" It was her puppy-driven energy that plowed the paths for the rest of the dogs. Good thing for Cheerio, whose legs are only four inches long. Speckle stands fourteen feet at the shoulder. She looks slightly shorter here.

 

 Later in the afternoon, I donned my gear and went to work widening the path for the dogs. This pic gives a bit of perspective on the drifts, which are over five feet in some places on the farm. It's hard to say just what the actual depth of the snow was; out on the lawn, it was between twenty seven and thirty four inches. But some places, where the wind howled without something to break it up (it did this all night), less than five inches remained. Cheerio isn't so sure of this whole thing, but she got out and tunneled through the snowbanks, wrestling with her baby Speckle, who appears to have her tongue stuck to her nose here.

 

 First order of business after the dogs have a path; make the grill accessible. I AM from Arkansas, people.

The smokers will have to wait. At least until the snow is less than seven inches.

 

 To my delight, the barn roof held the snow load. Let's see if it holds with a big March snow, which will be heavy and wet.

 The House roof has very little snow. It all blew off as it fell. Except where it drifted over the 1910 addition. The plywood deflects water that drips from the gutter above, which needs reattaching. So sue me; I ben busy. It's temporary.

 

 Marley finally makes it outside to play, which she did in the deepest snow, romping with the Everpup. Marley is an Akita, a Japanese breed. She'll sleep in the snow and not even notice it.

 

 Looking towards the barn/greenhouse. Roof held nicely, and the snow covered all the last trash piles that came out of the greenhouse. This year, despite the high snow, Speckle will not leap over the snow-shortened fence. Thanks to the little wire wrapped around those yellow knobs, heh heh heh.

 

 Speckle-plowed paths.

 

 It took an hour or more to dig out the back of the truck to the driver's side door from the gate, a distance of about twenty feet. The stepladder was necessary to get out of the backyard, as the plywood gate opens outward. I think the same was true last year. Good thing it was in the house and not out in the barn, where it was only four days ago.

 

 Strange eddies created in snow on the south side of the truck.

 Even stranger sculptures on the south roof. Deep uns, too. The thing under the blue tarp is a free refrigerator, which will go into the cellar as soon as I can dig my way there. The cellar bulkhead lies somewhere beneath the drifts to the right of the fridge. Good thing I got the shoring of the living room floor done Saturday; there's no way there now. Stay tuned for that project; it's next.

 The plywood gate and the canyon I had to create to get out of the yard. And what's under all that snow? An inch of solid ice from the last storm, of course.

 

 This was a s far as I could shovel this afternoon. I'll dig to the street tomorrow. The plows have finally been by, so I guess the Travel Ban is over. Big deal. I ain't goin' anywhere tomorrow either. Note the mailbox across the street. Not only filled with snow, but almost buried. And ten inches deeper than the pic posted this morning. Go back and look; I'll wait. I'll dig that out for my Mail Girl Cindy. She'll appreciate it. We must look after our Postal Workers.

 

 I loaded the feeders and suet cages yesterday in anticipation of the storm. The juncos and sparrows aren't fazed by the two feet of snow beneath their feet. I'll have to load the feeders again tomorrow. Sigh. As if I don't have enough shoveling to do as it is. But they are my puppybirds, so whattayagonnado?

 

The Canyon to the truck, complete with added snow. Light was fading. Cocktail hour beckoned. The dogs were squeaking to be fed. Guess I need to oil them.

Thing is, that curved pile will be there until March. Watch. You'll see.

Time to settle in for a Long Winter's Night.

Note to all of you; Midwinter's Day is only six days hence. Then we glide to Spring. Really. Make sure to do the proper sacrifices while chanting the proper words on Candlemas, February 2nd.

"Ai! Shub-niggurath! The goat with a thousand young!"

A LITTLE FORCED TIME OFF

  I know I said I'd post some pics of the living room project, but tiny bits of viral material in my system said otherwise. Just off my back for the first time in a week, I needed to take a drive to get out a bit. Not to worry; I'm not dead yet (sorry to those of you who didn't worry anyway; us Yellowbeards are never more dangerous than when we're dead). But I needed a divertissement.

So I took a slow road across the hills to examine what has been done at my job in Glastonbury during my absence. The hell with the job; I stopped at The Salmon River Canyon west of Colchester because it looked wild and deep on the DeLorme atlas. It was, though the ice on the trails made hiking impossible. It also closed the road I'd chosen to leave the place. I got out anyway. It has been cold up here, with only one or two days above freezing since Christmas. And even then it rained like a bitch then froze immediately. Winter is still my favorite season. Why? No Bugs. Gonna get colder and snowier starting tonight, so the living room project will get underway this weekend whether I like it or not.

There is also a historic covered bridge at the site (west of Colchester on Route 16), but it is about as historic as yesterday's underwear. The thing has been totally rebuilt in the past few decades using modern timbers and steel corner braces. A nice bridge in a fantastic location, but only a few of the original timbers were reused, so I didn't take any pix of it. Well, one.

 The Salmon River in winter, looking upstream from the covered bridge. They stock it with salmon and trout. Catch and release, dontcha know. Best way to torture fish. I like the wall at the left; I imagine there have been problems with erosion there, as it is on the outside bend of a very wild river. This thing floods rather magnificently, if the pictures I've seen are to be believed. If you decide to take a look at the river, you'll know you're in the right place when you top the ridge and drop like a screaming eagle into the deep wooded canyon in front of you.

 

 

 Despite the swiftness of the current and steep fall of the water, it freezes over occasionally. Then it thaws and huge slabs of ice travel swiftly downstream, sometimes forming ice dams that cause VERY cold local floods. These in this pile are about ten feet across and more than a foot thick; I don't think I'd like to be canoeing with them clunking the sides of the boat.

 

 

 Looks like alls you need is a large icepick the size of a pickaxe, a bunch of empty tumblers, and a case of good scotch. Macallan 12-year old will do. Call me when you've got it. I'll go to work on the ice.

 

 

 Looking downstream to the new bridge. Looks cold, doesn't it?

 

 

 One of the reasons I wanted to see this area is that it's known for some pretty good mineral collecting, mostly garnet (the Connecticut State Gem), beryl, and tourmaline. This is schist country, and schist means gem minerals. The sand in this river is made of very fine, very clear garnet, likely almandine or pyrope. Prolly the former. It's the red stuff, like duh. I intend to return at some time to see if anything larger shows itself, likely when I can actually pull pebbles from the river. They're quite frozen in place right now. Winter. Sheesh.

 

 

Apparently a popular girl with someone. I don't believe much graffiti I read. Someone doesn't like her, though. Hope it's not true. Christina, if you're out there, now is the time to go to the bridge with some sandpaper.

 

I found this draft dated early 2015 and couldn't find it in the posts, so here it is. If you've already seen it, my apple-ogies. I've been deep into the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom finishing, and hate to show a half-finished project, so I have delayed. I will dribble some out a bit at a time, as the End is coming soon.

It's been terribly, terribly difficult this year.

STANDISH HOUSE

THEN AND NOW

(originally written after the first snow of the snowiest year on record) 

 It's been a while since my last post, but the beginning of winter is no time to write when the cold and snow are on their way. But I do have a special treat. Read on. 

 

    Winter has hit in full force, and the past three weeks have been spent in preparation for it. The barn is shored, the greenhouse has finally been emptied of all its trash, and all the close-to-the-house brush clearing has been done, The pond is frozen, two inches of snow covers the ground, and I've had my annual run-out-of-LP gas-on-the-coldest-day-of-the-year episode. Yes, I awoke on Tuesday to a sputtering bedroom heater and immediately cursed my cockeyed gas tank gauge. I then awoke on Wednesday to seven below outside and thirty-four in the house. It would be a week before I could get the gas company to bring me more. But I learned from last year and had installed an emergency valve that allows me to hook up a 20-gallon grill-sized tank in a pinch, and this was certainly that. I have heat and hot water again, and it's a good thing, as temps won't go above freezing for much of the next week. It's still cold in the house, around fifty.

   This being the case, I've decided to finally do some interior restoration starting today. It's about damn time; I haven't done anything to the interior other than infrastructure repair upon moving in. Today I'm moving everything from the living room into the bedroom and intend to update the living room completely. It presently features some fine wide cedar paneling on the fireplace wall, a heart pine floor, and stained pine trim around the windows and doorways, none of which are original. The drywall has been taped but not floated, and all seams are visible. In addition, the ceiling sports two faux box beams that scream out "1960s!" The fireplace wall paneling was designed to match the paneling in the back room, apparently the only old paneling still in existence in the house.

 

   So today, after moving the furniture, I intend do the initial investigation as to the original configuration of the room. I'll start by going into the attic/second floor to remove a floorboard and examine the joists from above. That will let me know with what I'm dealing. I hope I'll have another post tonight with pics of the investigation.

 

 

In the meantime, here's a treat for you historyophiles. One of the Izbicki siblings, Bertha's daughter Barbara, brought me this picture of the house taken in 1938, when Chester and Bertha bought the derelict Standish House. I took one look at the disrepair and asked "Was this taken before or after the Hurricane?" The house looks like it's been through one, but it was actually taken in summer, months before The Great Hurricane of 1938. That storm devastated Long Island, southeastern Connecticut, and much of Rhode Island. The storm surge brought twenty feet of water into the streets of downtown Providence. Providence is less than forty five miles from Preston.

 

Note the south addition is only one-third the size of that addition today, and that the side door is fully visible and not enclosed. The roof cornice on the gable end has a set of horizontal returns (missing today and not authentic to the original Cape design) and the front of the house sports a large porch, complete with Victorianesque column brackets. Several outbuildings can be seen on the left side of the picture. They are all gone now, as is the view of the pasture on the hill behind those buildings. The entire hill, still a pasture of the dairy farm up the road, is now obscured by a tall hardwood forest. A 1930s-era car is in the driveway, and a now-disappeared rock wall divides the driveway from the south yard. Careful perusal of the picture show strange lines or dark streaks from bottom to top; these are pencil lines that were added to the original after it was apparently crinkled, then unfolded. Mine is a copy. The chimney has a korbel mine doesn't have; it was rebuilt sometime in the past twenty years.

 

                                                                             1938

                                                                               2015

    Looking at this makes me realize it's time to take down the old temporary gate and fence near the door and replace them with something more appropriate and less hillbilly. That'll happen when the snow goes away. Possibly spring.


Recent Note:
This was done, and despite the late summer verdure, mostly chest-high Johnson grass, the property looks much more civilized now that when I was pretty much camping out.