Category Archives: Cabin Life

Cabin Life – #41

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The nights and days are cool, the leaves are bright and the fire wood is getting stacked in the shed.  The field is turning brown, even with the fall rain, and neither of the streams are running.  It hasn’t really been that cold, but it is coming.

Ed crashed around last night, and I thought he was going to have a mouse.  He didn’t, but it wasn’t from lack of trying.  There was a mouse turd on the table though, so the mice are definitely trying to move in for the winter.  I checked the small hole in the floor where the sink drains out and the steel wool was gone.  I shoved some more in there to try and keep them out.  I don’t have anything against mice per se, but I don’t want them in my food or on my bed or on my table.  Or in my cabin, actually.

I think it’s going to be a rough winter.  Seems like it’s much colder than it was at this time last year.  I’ve got myself set up better for this winter with solar lights and radio, and the cabin is a lot cleaner than when I moved in.  There’s less furniture and more room.  The animals are happy here and so am I.

But the weather is worrying me. I cut and split wood well into October last year with nothing more than a light flannel on and no need for a jacket.  I took a ride on the four wheeler today and my hands were stiff for a while.  It’s not looking good for those of us who were hoping for a late start to winter.

Don’t get me wrong, I like winter.  I like to ski and snowshoe and enjoy the general quietness.  But an early winter means burning more wood, plowing the driveway more and spending a lot more time in long johns.  Nothing against any of those things, I just wish they would start when I want them to.  Like in December.  Oh, and the snow should be gone by the first day of spring.  That’s not too much to ask, is it?  I’m afraid this year it will be.

Cabin Life – #40

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I’m a traitor.  I went to Vermont to go hiking this week.  A friend and I hiked Elmore Mountain to an old fire tower.  The fire tower was open to the public even though it was decommissioned, which is a big change from New York.  Most of the fire towers here have had their first two flights of stairs removed, with the small, obligatory “Warning” sign attached somewhere. 

When I went over Sunday afternoon on the Port Kent ferry, the overwhelming view of both Vermont and the Adirondacks was still green.  The shoreline of Lake Champlain on both sides of the lake showed little sign of the cooling temperatures of mid-September. 

I met up with Mike in Montpelier and followed him to his house somewhere in the middle of nowhere.  It was well after dark by the time we got there.  We had a small fire and a couple of beers while Pico and Mike’s dog Sadie wrestled with each other and barked at the coyotes howling in the woods, not too far away.  We could hear cows mooing on a neighboring farm and a heavy dew started settling in while the fire died down.

When I woke up the next morning, I glanced out the window to see a gray sky and a fire red maple.  The feeling of waking up on an overcast day with a hike planned was somewhat offset by the brightness of the tree.  The window was open and the coolness made me both wide awake and reluctant to get out of bed. 

I knocked on Mike’s door to wake him up for the hike, but he and Sadie were already awake.  After a beautifully fatty breakfast with a lot of coffee, we headed north to Elmore State Park to climb the mountain.  It was a nice trail, and because it was Vermont, basically everyone else we saw had a dog, so Pico and Sadie had plenty of butts to sniff along the way.

When we were done with the hike, we headed back to Mike’s place so I could go home and he could drive down to New Hampshire for a three day hiking trip.  I got back on the ferry in Burlington, and soon realized that the boat was going backwards.  Or, more accurately, the cars were facing backward. 

As the ferry left Vermont, I watched as the lake gained in size while the buildings and boats shrank.  Camel’s Hump and Mt. Mansfield stood idly by while we went west across the lake.  I got out of the car and turned around.  Looking at the Adirondacks from the ferry with Vermont at my back, I realized that I while like the vibe of Vermont, it’s not the Adirondacks.  And I love the Adirondacks.

Cabin Life – #39

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It’s a writing in the hammock kind of day.  The sun is shining, but the pines are giving me enough shade to stay cool.  It is that particular brand of fall day when it’s a little hot in the sun and a little cool in the shade.

Herbie the Fat Cat is what’s on my mind.  The middle child of my pets, both in age and in size, Herbie is a great cat.  He doesn’t do anything and it’s wonderful.

I got Herbie almost ten years ago, mainly as a friend for Ed.  I was travelling a lot and Ed was pretty wound up back when he was around two years old.  So when my friend said she had a big lazy stray that she had taken in, I went and met Herbie.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but when I go to “meet” a potential pet, I know that I’m going to take him home.  It’s not even a question.  When I got to Lorena’s house, there were five cats.  Her mom already had a few, which is why they needed to unload Herbie.  He was lying under their dining room table and let me scoop him up.  He was (and is) grey striped on top and white underneath, almost like someone held him and dipped him a bucket of white paint.  They had had Herbie de-clawed, which is something I would never do to a cat, but I have to admit that it’s kind of nice.  I’ve never had money taken out of a security deposit because of Herbie.

The humans chatted and Herbie smelled around his new carrier, finally going in to eat the treats I had tossed in there.  When I got home with Herbie, Ed made his disapproval clear.  It took two whole days for Ed to forget that Herbie was an intruder and the two of them started tearing around the house together.  I had hoped that having a lazy tub around would calm Ed down, but it had the opposite effect.  Herbie was almost as wild as Ed.  He lost a couple of pounds in fat within six months.

The Big Guy goes by many names, most of which revolve around his weight.  He isn’t really fat, he’s big boned.  Seriously, he is.  Herbie has now mellowed out a lot and seems to be taking to middle age nicely.  He and Ed still wrestle, but the unabashed free-for-alls have dropped in number (Pico has filled that hole with all his might).  When Herbie sleeps in bed, he doesn’t lie on the pillow or move around all night like Ed.  When he jumps on the table, he doesn’t lay on my keyboard or book like Ed.  He doesn’t bark or jump on you like Pico does.  And he’s content to lie in the sun for hours on end.  He’s my fat cat, and he’s the best fat cat I’ve ever known.

Cabin Life – #38

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Pico was just digging in the ground, making a cool spot to lie down in.  After the rain we got last night, the disturbed ground had a nice, earthy smell to it.  A week ago, it would have been just dust, floating up into my face and choking me.  Now it smells good.

This is my favorite time of year.  The leaves are starting to change color and it’s not due to the drought this time.  There are bright yellows and orangeish-reds.  Most of the trees are still green but that just makes the few that are changing really stand out.  They look striking even though I have to see them through red, scratchy eyes most of the time.

The road is covered with dead leaves that blow around on the dry days.  The good news is that since there are dry days now, it also means that there must be wet days.  The rain we’ve gotten isn’t making up for the summer yet, but at least it is raining once in a while.  We needed the water, but it’s also nice to get a free car wash now and then too.

I’ve always liked fall the best, and after this ridiculously hot and dry summer, the cool nights and warm days are a huge relief.  Just cool enough for a long sleeve shirt at night.  The mosquitoes are starting to die down and there’s a noticeable difference in the amount of daylight we’re getting.  I’ve seen some geese heading south and even with no water, the few apples that made it are ripening up.  I guess that’s what I like about fall.  All of the above.

Cabin Life -#37

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I love lying in the hammock.  There’s a cold beer on the upright log next to me and Pico is lying on the other side.  Shamelessly, I use Pico as a push off to swing the hammock.  He weighs enough to absorb the push, and seems to be content with the petting.  Luckily he hasn’t attempted to join me in the hammock yet.

There are a couple of spider silks strung between two branches, and the afternoon light is glinting off of them.  When the light breeze blows, they disappear and then reappear as a shimmer in the middle of nothingness.  I can’t see where the silks tie into the leaves, but the suspended middle of the strings is visible more often than not.

Even when I’m not tired, the hammock seems to lull me into a state of pure apathy.  Especially with the heat we’ve had this summer, the feel of the breeze encompassing my whole body is very relieving.  Whatever book I’m reading inevitably ends up on the ground, and I have no qualms about spending an hour in semi-consciousness while hanging out in the hammock.  Even Pico seems to relax when he’s there, only getting up to chase a red squirrel or chipmunk up one of the pine trees.  He hasn’t gotten hit by a pinecone yet, but it’s not for a lack of trying on the squirrel’s part.

I push off of Pico again and run my hand lightly down his back as the hammock swings away.  It’s a small price to pay for having such a reliable and useful partner.  Lying in the hammock not only relaxes me, but brings back lots of memories from growing up.  My grandparents had a summer camp on the Sacandaga Reservoir, near Vandenberg’s Point.  The camp was set up on a hill, but it was just a short walk down to the beach. 

They had a flight of wooden stairs that went down from the camp through the blueberry bushes.  Halfway down the stairs, there was no railing on the right side, and that’s where the big, classic, white cotton hammock hung.  It was low enough to the ground that an adult could put their foot down and push off.  I just belly flopped onto the thing, shoved my arm through the netting and pushed off of one of the big knotty roots with my hand. 

It was one of my favorite things about spending time at camp.  The place was pretty close to home, so we would go up there a lot.  There was no hammock at home, though, and the one at camp always seemed special.  Maybe it’s because I shared it with so many of the important people in my life, but I don’t think I got lazy when I lay in that particular hammock.  I just got happy.

Ausable Marsh

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Pico and I hiked the Ausable Marsh Wildlife Management Area trail a few weeks ago.  Here’s a few shots from the marsh.  I don’t know wildflowers, so if any of you know what these are please clue the rest of us in with a comment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cabin Life – #36

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It’s dry.  Too dry.  I dug a hole the other day and it was like digging in a sand box.  A foot down and the dirt was still bone dry.  I only remember one other drought like this, when I was at Paul Smiths.  Doc Kudish pointed out to me that the leaves on the trees were actually wilting.  The same thing is happening now, and there’s even a few that are starting to change color.  And it’s not because it’s been cool out.

Both of the spring-fed streams that run through the property are dry because the water table has dropped so low.  There are no blueberries, which is a shame because wild blueberries are hands-down one of the greatest foods known to man.  We did get some rain earlier this week, and it was much needed, but it’s not enough to make up for what we haven’t gotten over the course of the summer.

There haven’t been as many fires this year though.  In 2002 there was more than three hundred and twenty fires all over the Adirondacks.  I was listening to NCPR one day and they had a story about a huge fire out west that had burned thousands of acres and hundreds of millions of dollars of property.  They then switched to local news.  The story was that there was a seven acre fire threatening a lean-to. 

We’ve got it pretty good compared to a lot of the country.  Almost seven million acres burned.  It’s hard to believe that the acreage burned nation wide is the same as the entire Adirondack Park.  Just imagine if about one-third of New York State was on fire.  Luckily it’s not, and I guess that’s something to be happy about, even during this drought.

Lake Champlain

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Cabin Life – #36 will be out next Tuesday…

Popped up over night and disintegrated two days later.

 

Driftwood and Valcour Island

 

Great Blue Heron wading along shore

 

Hiking up the hill out back. Wasn’t that long ago…

 

Cabin Life -#35

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Never in my life have I ever been this excited about buying light bulbs.  Seriously, I told everyone about it.  This is a great day in my life.

Don’t get me wrong, when I’ve bought lights in the past, it’s been a joy.  But ordering strings of solar-powered LED lights was new high.  These lights will make a big impact in my existence, especially during the long winter when the sun goes down at four in the afternoon. 

My original plan for this summer was to get a small solar panel and a battery to wire so that I could run some Christmas lights in the cabin.  Nothing much, but enough so that I didn’t have to wear a headlamp for six months.  That got real old last winter.  But after shopping around and realizing that I would have to spend several hundred dollars to get a suitable setup, I was relieved and delighted to find the lights I just ordered.

They are self-contained, with a small solar panel attached directly to a string of one hundred LED bulbs.  The strings are fifty-five feet long, which gives me plenty of wire to go all the way around the cabin with both sets, since the cabin is only twenty feet by twenty-four feet.  Plus, they have a sensor built in to turn on at dusk so that when I leave in the afternoon, I will have light when I get back to cabin after sundown.

I’m not trying to plug a certain product, but I just can’t begin to describe how excited I am about having artificial light in the cabin.  Frankly, I can’t believe that the place didn’t burn down last winter, with candles and kerosene lamps burning all the time.  And this will be healthier for me too.  Breathing all that smoke can’t be good, and the amount of times I stub my toes this winter will be down drastically.  It’s win-win for me, which is all anyone can really ask for, isn’t it?

Cabin Life -#34

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I like bees.  They really don’t bother me that much.  It’s not like I want to get stung, but they tend to leave me alone, maybe because I don’t freak out when they fly near me.  I understand those who are allergic or just don’t want to get stung, though. 

I remember vividly the first time I got stung by a bee.  It was at our house on 5th Ave in Gloversville, and I was already strapped into my car seat in the back.  Mom was locking up the house or grabbing something from inside, and when I shifted in my car seat, the bee stung me right on the butt.  I don’t know if I started screaming (I couldn’t have been more than fifteen at the time) and I don’t remember the aftermath, but the sting itself is clear as day.

At work there is a window air conditioner.  I was mowing the lawn and noticed a lot of bees around near the a/c unit.  I stopped to watch, mainly to see if there was a ground nest nearby.  Watching the bees for a minute, I realized that they were going to the ground under the a/c to drink, not because their hive was down there. 

With the ridiculous drought going on, I’m not surprised that the bees are hanging around a reliable source of water.  It’s fun to sit a few feet away and not really be in any danger of getting stung.  As long as I don’t get too close or let Pico run through them, I figure it’s safe to hang out and watch.  I won’t bother them if they don’t bother me, and the feeling so far seems to be mutual.