First snow, Nov. 14, 1995

Grampa and Aunt Gertrude are sound asleep.  I feel like a mother who has just put her children to bed for a nap and now I must be quiet so as not to wake them.

Today we are having our first snowstorm - not a very big one.  I think there is enough to "track a cat" which means there will be 13 more snowfalls this winter.  I always get a certain feeling when that first storm arrives, it is the beginning of a new season.  I had a dear friend, and the first snowstorm found us heading for the hills of Lake Garda with a toboggan, a sled, or skis, or just to walk in the snow - two carefree spirits.  As we got older and had other commitments (kids), one of us would call the other when the first snow fell.  Eventually, she died of lung cancer, but I still think of her when the first snow flies.

Lake Garda [in Burlington, CT] was on land owned by my grandfather Jones when I was a baby.  Our family used to have picnics down by the brook.  Later, the guy who bought it made a lake there and as I got older, we swam there and roamed the hills that once belonged to my Grandpa.

It was a good feeling to wake up and look out at the trees, all covered with snow and to know that we were snug in our bed - still on the porch.  But that gallon jug of HOT water stays warm all night and therefore I just move it from cold spot to cold spot.

The first snow!  Still a delight to behold - how the fresh coating makes the world seem quiet and sparkling new again.  Grammie always talked of an old wives' tale, that the date of the first snow fall where there was enough to "track a cat" would signal the number of snowstorms that season.  So, as it fell on the 14th in this letter, there would be a total of 14 snowfalls, with enough snow on the ground to track a cat.  My sister and I love this tale, and we still mark the dates to see how close they come to being true.  There is some wiggle room, of course, since I've never actually tried to track a cat, and so don't know just how much snow is required....


Do you mark the first snow as a special time?  What a wonderful legacy Gram and her friend created together - taking time to remember each other and their childhood adventures on that one day of the year.  Gram's friend's name has been lost to me, but both their spirits live on.  When the first snow flies, I think of them as girls together - arm in arm, giggling and tromping through the snow, their sled pulled behind them, excited to feel the rush of the cold wind as they slide down a hill - carefree.

Fall, Nov. 6, 1995

The beginnings of each season are the best - and each season has its own smell.  One of my favorite times was when my Dad put up the stove and we had our first fire - oh the smell of the wood burning and the warmth gave the house a whole different feeling.  Or leaves burning (can't do that anymore!) - but it always brought so many things to mind.  Nowadays burning leaves smells like marijuana.  How times have changed.

Our trip down from Vermont was beautiful especially around the green in Burpville [Belchertown, MA].  There are so many birds around chattering away and pushing each other away from the food - like a bunch of little kids.  It was 22 degrees when we woke up this morn on our porch.  Needless to say - I had on long johns under my flannel PJs - winter undershirt, and socks.  Last night the stars were so brilliant, and the sky was so pretty, but it was too cold to linger long looking - warmer under the blankets.

The smell of a wood fire always brings Grammie to mind for me - mainly because of our campfires at Rowen farm, but also because it signals the start of fall and cool weather.  Gram and Grampa would sleep on their enclosed porch from spring through until fall.  I was always amazed how long they stayed out there.  But they had ingenious ways of keeping warm: long johns under pajamas, hats and mittens, lots of blankets, and hot water bottles!  I know of only a few hardy souls nowadays who would be willing to sleep like that, but to them it was a bit of an adventure and a point of pride - and another way to stay one step closer to nature.