The last fourteen winters I spent in northern New England. Let me say that New England can be beautiful in every season, especially fall. I love it when the fall air turns glossy and liquid on those last final synapses of summer’s energy in the afternoon.
As fall in New England progressed into mid-winter, I learned to appreciate the warmth of a whiskey next to a woodstove at a friends, the gentle scent of woodfires drifting from villages and the crunch of thin ice on trails.
At first, winters in New England were amazing to see. But, now, after the last two brutal winters I endured in New England…
I am so freakin glad to be back where it’s relatively warm and there’s only a few inches of snow in town. I realized this during the snowfall just before Christmas here in Portland. The next morning as I walked Duffy the Border Collie down the back streets of Milwaukie, I realized there was something missing from a white environment. Snowblowers and pickup trucks with plows.
I’ve not posted here since staying with my best friend and business partner Bill in Plymouth NH right before Thanksgiving, getting a whiskey buzz as we fixed the shocks on his SUV late on a bitter cold NH night.. (it’s a good thing he’s good with a Sawzall – somehow one of those and whiskey don’t seem to go together).