momtourage

Arctic Front

The same degree of cold seems much colder in Brooklyn than in Maine. Perhaps it is due to mindset, or the dismal lack of snow, or the chill that seeps into your boots from the concrete sidewalks. A few weeks ago, I was happily skiing in below zero temperatures. But this morning, back in the city, I begrudged the brisk walk of only a few blocks to go shopping. Though some of it was undoubtedly due to the difference in task.

So what to do, in the winter, in the city, when spring seems most distant? You can choose one route and seek out warm places - the tropical greenhouse at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, the library, the coffee shop with delicious hot cocoa. Or you can embrace the cold, decide to snuggle in and knit soft alpaca mittens, read wonderful and moody winter-themed stories and books, cook soup, sip tea. There is a stillness to winter I will miss when it's gone, best to make the most of it while it's still here.

Winter Cookout

My sister suggested a cookout. In Maine, in the winter, at night, right before an arctic front moved in.

It was magical.

I experimented with flash and non-flash photos and the non-flash seemed to capture the spirit of the event more aptly. That is not to say that I'm not enjoying looking at the flash ones, which reveal the marshmallows in all of their shocking whiteness and the peculiar redness of the local hot dogs.

If you would like to try this for yourself (and have an appropriate space in mind) here are the ingredients:

1. A snowy place - in this case a field with snow in a mold-able enough condition to shape into a circular seating bench ringing the fire. Stamp down the entire inner center so it is flat.
2. Dry wood - and gasoline in case the dry wood is not as dry as you thought and it needs help lighting. Matches.
3. Long sticks, whittled to a point at the end (for roasting purposes).
4. Provisions: hot dogs + buns, salt + vinegar chips, condiments, s'mores ingredients, juice, beer.
5. Family and friends, preferably friends from 'away' who will marvel at the idea and experience of a winter cookout from start to finish.

Snow, Most Loved

Yes, I grew up in Maine, where snow would often arrive by Thanksgiving then linger into April (not so much nowadays, hello global warming). We liked playing in the snow, skiing etc. but I had never seen snow so greatly enjoyed until I came to the city. At three PM yesterday, this was the state it was in.

Trampled flat, with bare spots even, but more loved and usefully used (skiing, sledding, building, trodding) than any other snow. The wintery joy was palpable.

Snow!

Too exciting - almost a foot fell in the city overnight.

Scavenging

I'm not much of a gardener (see summer garden failures), but I do vaguely recall reading something technical about those hardy and gorgeous ornamental cabbages/kales. I finally took a close look and am impressed by their variety and geometry. And their hardiness too. It's pretty cold but these guys seemed to be just loving it.

Browns

In the country, I was really loving all of the brown-on-browns.

Late Fall, Central Park

Since the Kandinsky exhibit, I have been seeing everything in terms of geometry.

Dreams of Summer

As it begins to become seasonably cool, I am thinking fondly of a certain, beloved swimming hole with a spectacular view.

See you in July!

A Late Summer Swim

I am almost to the buoys. And I pass by two red maple leaves. Fall has begun.

A (Hiking) Project

Now that the boys are 5 and 6 - and full of energy - I have begun to channel some of said energy into an activity I love very much. I hope that they will grow to love it too.

We even did an urban hike.

And to keep track of it all we purchased a map of Maine and some tiny transparent dots. We tacked it up right in the front hall. Every time we climb a mountain we carefully place one of these color-coded dots right over its name. Thus far we are using two colors - purple for a climb where you have to crouch down and use hands and feet and green for an easier summit. We have completed and marked hikes in three counties and on one island. On rainy days, we sometimes ponder hikes with the help of several excellent books then troop on over to the map to see how far away they are. (It's a good geography lesson to boot.)

My dad used to take me on spontaneous hikes when I was a child, and my grandmother did an annual (challenging!) picnic hike with my sister and me until she was in her late 60s. Loving hiking and doing it often - this is a family tradition I aspire to create.