It was a dark and stormy afternoon. The icy winds battered the sides of our Subaru as it barreled down interstate ninety-one. Walls of snowdrifts lined what might be the road in front of us, somewhere under the banshee wisps of icy dust. We trusted that the rut made by snow plows and unseen traffic was truly a road. Daria looked pensively at her mobile phone. It had been well over 8 minutes since she’d had a signal and the comments section of the Washington Post wasn’t loading…
Ok, so our trek into New Hampshire wasn’t that dramatic. Though we did end up in a ditch on a country road as we closed in on where our current housesit resides. The drive was very nice in truth (unintentional off-roading aside).
When we first made the move to Connecticut, Daria and I were excited for a real winter. I hadn’t experienced such a thing since mi mamá lived in Maine and I spent a winter there. I’m not sure that Daria had ever experienced a true winter (the Atlanta Snowpocalypse does not count – anyways, we were in either Tampa or Barbados at the time, I forget exactly which but good timing that).
Unfortunately, or fortunately – depending on your tastes, our first winter in Stamford was a bust for cold weather. Our apartment was on the Long Island Sound, which apparently gives that area some relatively mild weather. And, when there was truly bad weather, we happened to be in Atlanta for the holidays. The net-net was only a couple of days where I was able to get a picture of Daria in snow so we could tell stories to those down south of the terrible, bitter cold up in these parts.
Fast-forward to a week ago, when we entertained a fun combination of both excitement and anxiety when we saw that the forecast for Canaan Center, New Hampshire was lots of snow and a high of 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Finally, a proper winter to test ourselves against. Or, as they call it in New Hampshire, a Monday in January.
The trip Monday started out in Connecticut where the cold-snap had extended its reach – it was 6 degrees when we started out in the morning. At our final destination in New Hampshire, it was a crisp -2 degrees. Now this is winter living.
Along the way, we stocked-up on the things we figured we’d need for at least a week. We couldn’t be sure that we wouldn’t be cabin-locked for some time. You know, the essentials:
We were also treated to an incredible dawn the next day. With blankets of white and the moon still hanging in the sky. I took these pictures outside in only my long underwear and neo-moccasins in -5 degrees, I’m pretty sure that qualifies me for a stupid award. Or, in New Hampshire, a raised eyebrow.
The house, really a cabin, is rustic, cozy, and every bit as warm inside as it is cold outside. No other house is in sight. We sit on a Christmas tree farm about a mile east of Canaan. We watch the critters work hard at the suet feeders and keep our eyes peeled for the local bear and any wandering moose.
Finally, as we settle in for the next three weeks, let me introduce you to our latest charge. This is Livvy, a recently adopted overgrown kitten. Part predator, part Nermal, all heart.