O Winter

Yesterday, I shared with y’all that Gretchen’s Mirror froze for the first time this year.  It did it again this morning, and Honeydew’s excitement was even greater than it was before.  He ran laps around the couch, dancing with Roy and Buck, rubbing Cain’s head, singing the Canadian National Anthem.

I had not yet brought my steaming mug of eggnog and coffee to my lips, and Honeydew’s enthusiasm nearly exhausted me, charming though he is.

But then I remembered this picture flashing across the screen at our rehearsal dinner, and I sipped my coffee, and Honeydew’s excitement came into focus for me.

My friends, hockey season is upon us.

O winter, we stand on guard for thee!

2010.  Glacier County Honey Co.  All Rights Reserved.

 

oh, say can you see …

By the dawn’s early light … that Gretchen’s Mirror froze last night?  Oh, I’m a poet and didn’t even know it!  Sorry.  I’m a little punchy.  This week has been one emergency motion after another, and I am flat out exhausted.  I forgot how family law always gets kickin’ again just before the holidays.  Sigh.

Anyway, it really wasn’t that cold last night, but the winds mercifully ceased and finally, on the night of November 2, the Mirror finally froze.

Oh, the ice didn’t last long.  Today was one of the most fabulous days of fall yet – warm and still and filled with clear sunshine.

By midday, the ice was clinging to itself in the middle of the Mirror, hugging itself to try and stay cold.

It melted off by late afternoon, when Brother Dear, Honeydew and I were busy moving office furniture and couches into our new house (!), but it’ll be back.  And then Winter will be here, with its long hours of deep thought and black starlight and woodsmoke.  It’s coming.  I can smell it.

2010.  Glacier County Honey Company. All Rights Reserved.

 

so, what do you do near Babb, anyway?

This is a question I am frequently asked in Cut Bank, where I keep my office, some 70 miles from Hillhouse.  It is, of course, a question with many answers, depending on the time of the year, and the time of day.

This time of year, after whatever configuration of present Hillhousers has laid away their work for the day, whether that work be eradicating the various noxious weeds trying to invade our property; scrubbing floors, windows, and cabinets; tending to 1,000 hives of bees; distributing marital estates; ridding the cabin attic of guano; changing oil in various rigs; overseeing the construction of an 80 x 120′ warehouse; ironing, mending, and washing; or teaching the new puppy old tricks, we like to gather around the fire pit, and fill each other in on the details of our days.

We’ll watch the sunset together.

And we’ll ask the dogs about their day.

And we’ll watch the Mirror play.

Sometimes well into darkness.

And suddenly the day has come to an end.  And we get up the next day and do it all over again.  And that’s what we do near Babb.

2010.  Glacier County Honey Co.  All Rights Reserved.

 

melt day

Yesterday, we spent much of our day without power, watching the snow furiously fall.  It was still coming down when I went to bed, piling up one flake at a time, giving us well over two feet in total accumulation.

But today, the day dawned clear and fresh and clean, the white masking the sad lawn.

One part of me wanted to follow the dogs out into the yard to make snow angels and revel in the moisture that will hopefully help the bees make a big honey crop in August.  The other part of me didn’t want to let the dogs out to mar the beauty of the snow – I longed to preserve its perfect layers of meringue and fondant, without a knife mark marring it, for as long as I could.  But a five month old puppy can’t be held back, and the dogs bolted from the garage into the yard, their playful dance creating an imperfect scene of beauty that amused me.

Despite the depth of snow in our long, uphill driveway, Honeydew had to go to town to meet with a contractor.  He spent most of the morning dealing with this:

But as morning melted into afternoon, the sun came out and gave Honeydew a hand.

And by evening time, the sun had done such a number on the snow that the pathetic lawn emerged once more.

And then this happened:

And that, along with reconciling five different checking accounts, negotiating new health insurance, dealing with five sticky loads of laundry, a phone conference with opposing counsel, paying bills, catching up on correspondence, and labeling honey, was my day.  I hope yours was good, too.

2010.  Glacier County Honey Co. All Rights Reserved.

 

lovers return

I don’t know what is “normal” for newlyweds, but I doubt that trucking one forklift, 200 hives of bees and a Lab/Golden Retriever puppy from Palo Cedro, California, to near Babb, Montana, Bride in the 1 ton truck, Groom in the 2 ton truck, is something your “average” newlyweds do.  Thirteen hundred miles and forty-eight hours later, Bride, Groom, Puppy, Bees, Trucks, and Forklift are all safely home.

Upon arrival to Hillhouse, Honeydew’s sharp eyes immediately noted that our loons are back … I got a bit teary over his announcement, and ran to unpack my camera.  Loons mate for life, and during our wedding ceremony, one flew over head and called out brilliantly.  I do not find this coincidental, but deeply symbolic.

Aren’t they beautiful?

Floating about on Gretchen’s Mirror.

Thankfully, the loons didn’t seem to mind Roy Rogers making himself at home … and checking out his new home.  He immediately got into the Mirror, and then wrestled with the lawn for quite a while as he dried off.

One loon lover took a big ole spring stretch that Honeydew captured with the camera:

I love to see their spots.

I wish I could describe the call a loon makes … I’ve heard it described as the sound of wilderness, and I agree.  But there is something silver in the sound too, something that shimmers down your spine and holds a tete-a-tete with your heart, telling it that there is greater love than even Shakespeare wrote about, that some love is too magnificent for human language.

2010.  Glacier County Honey Co.  All Rights Reserved.

 

oh, what a beautiful morning …

Now, depending on what part of the country you live in, 32.4 degrees may sound cold to you.  Let me assure you that when the wind is not blowing, and the humidity is nil, and you live near Babb, Montana, 32.4 degrees can actually feel quite balmy.   I was out in my bare feet and bath robe taking pictures of Gretchen’s Mirror this morning – the air felt summery, the colors felt autumnal, Buck and I both felt refreshed.  I taught him the chorus to “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” and we danced around the house singing together.

Actually, that is not true.  I taught him the chorus and then he looked at me balefully, and promptly curled up in the sunniest spot he could find, while I returned to paying bills on my laptop.   It’s a glamorous life we lead around here.  Enjoy your Monday:

2010.  Glacier County Honey Co. All Rights Reserved.