Winter is Back

 

Happy Valentine's Day, and I hope you are celebrating it with someone you love and who loves you. That's the best there is. It's nice to take one day in the year to recognize how much that means, but even better if that appreciation lasts a lifetime!

We have escaped all the snow that blanketed states south of us, but we haven't escaped the cold. I recorded a low of 8F last night and the highest I've seen all day is 13.5F - so this morning I pulled the insulated blinds down and I have kept them there all day. It's like living in a warm cocoon, and after being outside early this morning to measure snow (2.3in) and clean off the deck, I really appreciate a warm house and that I didn't have to go anywhere today. 

The cold temperature wouldn't be so bad, but we've had a gusty NW wind all day. It whisked the snow off the deck with just a little urging from me and my shovel. The hardest part of measuring snow this morning was staying upright. I wore my usual boots with creepers, and when I stepped onto the Trex surface of my deck, it was like ice skating. I carry my tools for measuring snow in a small plastic dishpan, and when I set it down on the decking after clearing a spot of snow, the wind shoved it several inches up against the railing. The strong wind gusts kept me a bit off balance and with it so slippery underfoot, I had to be very careful. The decking has ridges that simulate wood grain, but they were no help at all for traction. Not only was the wind biting against my face and pushing me, I had a hard time keeping my equipment from drifting away from me in the wind.

Once I'd taken a measurement of the snow, got a core sample to measure precipitation content, and replaced the collection tube with a fresh one, I had to get back inside without spilling anything or having the wind rip the storm door out of my grasp. If that happens, the door bangs against the deck railing, and being a metal door, dents easily and screws up the adjustment so it won't close properly. I've been meaning to put a guard chain on it, but haven't done that yet. Meantime, it's a juggling act that involves both hands, sometimes a knee or a foot, and precision timing between wind gusts  to get in the door

Now it's late afternoon and I've answered a few e-Valentine wishes. I want to get some writing done. Last week I left my great-grandfather captured at Harper's Ferry, so I need to try to get him home. His whole regiment, the 9th Vermont, was captured by the Confederate Army. I believe he was wounded and eventually sent home, but I need to verify dates on military records to understand whether he was in hospital or may have gone to Camp Douglas in Chicago for a time. It's a puzzle and very time-consuming to piece together as I try to fit stories handed down several generations with what actually may have happened.

My grandfather and my father were both great story tellers, and my boys often remark that as many times as "Gramps" told his stories, they never varied one bit. It's his stories and some recollections of others about young John Bolton's service in the Civil War that I'm trying to reconcile.

 There's another story my grandfather Aaron Bolton told about a sawmill in East Cabot blowing up just as he, then about 19 years old, was heading across a field to deliver a load of logs to the mill. I was excited when I recently came upon a newspaper account of that accident and it was just as I remembered him telling the story. Some things just come together with precision; others I have to labor over.