Sarah's Books - Used & Rare

Living with seasons is thrilling.  Sometimes too thrilling.  The snowstorm this weekend was, in a word, wild.  Yesterday was split between sitting inside and watching the snow fly by sideways, and curling up with a book, I Remember Nothing by Nora Ephron (Vintage 2010).  Loved it.  Her droll, snappy essays provided such a perfect lift when the sky was falling.  And fall it did.  Although huge winds throughout the storm left us with some spots scoured completely bare, we now have five-foot drifts elsewhere.  The end of our driveway this morning looked like this (I love how the neighbors' house across the street is peeking over the mountain of snow between us and them):


Ryan worked on it for a while and made some progress.  Luckily the snow is very dry and light, so it isn't hard to move, it's just time-consuming because there is so freaking much of it.  The neighbors' yard is bare, but their front porch in the lee of the wind is buried in a huge drift. 


Meanwhile, in the back yard, I dug out the woodpile and the shed.  The snow is all the way up to the green tarps on top of the woodpile.  And the metal buckets we put the woodstove ashes in are buried.


Holy crackers.  I mean, I've lived in Maine my whole life, but this is a crazy amount of snow all at once.


It was maybe fifteen degrees out, but I had two coats on, two pairs of gloves, a scarf, sweater, flannel shirt, boot socks, boy jeans, Bean boots, etc - and I was warm as toast.  Layering is the only way to go, this time of year; it's not a fashion statement, it's a necessity.  Speaking of necessities, look behind me - more bare ground where the wind swept all the snow over the field and off down the hill.  A huge flock of wild turkeys floundered out of the deep snow in the woods and then spent the afternoon in that bare patch, scratching the ground and eating whatever they could find.  We watched them from inside.  Hodge was enthralled, as were we.  Some of them even walked in single file up the path I'd dug, past the woodpile to the sandy driveway, to scratch around there (like chickens, they need grit in their diet).  Glad to help - we're all in this together!