Wild Flamingos of Engleville
A little snow, then it warmed up. I wish the weather would decide what it wants to do. It’s really getting in the way of my activities. We get some snow, but it’s not deep enough for snowmobiling. Then the temperatures rise above freezing, and it’s too warm for my Hok skis. We get a good cold spell and I’m thinking we’re forming some good ice for fishing, then it warms up again for three days. We want cold, cold, cold for ten days or so, with no snow, and we’ll be off to a good start. If we can’t have ice without snow, then how about snow? Not an inch which melts in two days. How about a foot of snow and some temperatures in the 20’s. Then we can ski and toboggan and scoot around on the Ski-Doo. But this, these in-betweens. All this is good for is teaching patience.
Ready To Run
I did get the Ski-Doo out and fired up after a snow storm in November. Drove it around on the inch of snow with grass showing through. Well, she’s ready to run if we ever get any white stuff. The photo is from March of ’18.
Daughter Kerry and her husband joined me for the annual Christmas Bird Count for the National Audubon Society. Each year, we ride out a predetermined route and count species and quantity of all the avian friends we see in a day. It was very windy all day, and we noted that a few species were missing from the count. We saw only two Dark-Eyed Juncos, usually prevalent at feeders particularly. We saw no Horned Larks, which was quite a surprise. Horned Larks love winter roads, and hang out on the shoulders eating salt between scavenging flights to the fields of corn stubble. No bald Eagles either. Our count borders the mighty Mohawk River, a favorite hangout for eagles, so that was another surprise. On the plus side, we spotted (and photographed!) a Pileated Woodpecker. The Pileated is a giant, about as big as a crow, and sports a huge, gaudy red tuft atop his head. The bird is unmistakable in flight, and a thrill to see perched. (Click any image for a full-size carousel)
Last weekend, we all gathered at Stone House Farm’s sugar house for breakfast. Breakfast at Stone House is served boarding house style. A platter comes to the table overflowing with pancakes, waffles and sausages and is passed. Whenever it’s empty, one of the Everett girls will ask “Need another round?” It was good to have almost everyone together. The only missing elements of our core were son Terence and his son, grandson Kacey. The waffles are shaped like maple leaves, and of course the real, genuine, fresh maple syrup is unlimited in supply.
Grandson Max has become quite the star his first year in varsity basketball. He’s been high-scorer for more than one game, and has been distinguished in the local papers. The team has lost just one game this season, and they are now in the sectional playoffs. He had a bit of a dilemma moving up from JV, in that there was only room for one player. His dear friend Sasha was the only other candidate, and according to Max, plays as well as he does. (To be clear, Sasha is a boy, named in the European tradition). The coach was shocked when both boys declined the move to varsity. “If I don’t go, he’ll move Sasha up.” Max reasoned. Sasha and his family have had a challenging year of personal losses, and Max cried to think of how disappointed he would be. Sasha believed Max was more worthy of the move, and declined on that premise. The boys finally decided that one of them had to move up, for the sake of the varsity team. I’m not certain how they determined which it would be, but this noble and heartfelt gesture brought tears to the eyes of many grownups surrounding the debate. It was very touching to see them unabashedly root for the other.
Varsity Max, #23
The fields and forests of Engleville continue to call to me constantly. The trails beg for the company of me and my little yellow dog. And I am more than happy to indulge them. Our winter treks are among my favorites. Deciduous trees devoid of leaves do not impede our views. No pesky bugs will ask to share our blood. She is reticent, and often in the woods, I am as well. Sometimes I must speak aloud. Sometimes I call out to the trees and the snow and the pines and the sky. We have been together many years, these trails and I, and we have grown close. We watch the seasons pass together.
Last week I caught the slightest whiff of spring, borne to me on the rainy wind. She is behind the proscenium, she is in the wings. “Pay no attention to the season behind the curtain!” Oz’s wizard calls to me. Let’s not hasten the passing of winter. Frozen sunrises and golden sunsets, boots and gloves, a hot fire and warm hearth.
Here’s to that wonderful white world of snow, the season of ice. Like all things in this life, we must appreciate and enjoy it in the here and now. Like all things in this life, it seems, gone before you know it.
Take care and keep in touch,
Paz
Life In Engleville 
loved hearing that your grandson and Sasha are so noble-it gives me hope for the world. Of course I loved your winter walk too. Take care and may winter linger . . .
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