White Mountains trip… Day 1.


It was a little dreary the day we left, with rain threatening in the distance… but we made good time and actually arrived too early to check into our resort.

What to do. What to do…

Who am I kidding?



It was margarita time.




So we found a chicken themed bar…




And settled in for lunch. Liquid and otherwise…




It was a funky place…




Basically a converted farmhouse with lots of quirky little rooms.




And though they don’t look wonderful….




The homemade chicken croquettes were to die for.

Bellies full, we headed out.




Fall color was intermittent during this trip. Some places gorgeous, others past peak.




We got to Newry, still too early to check in… so we explored.




Found a covered bridge….




Built in 1872…




And enjoyed the views.




It was peaceful…




And smelled like autumn.




For those not familiar…

That means fresh air, apples, a hint of wood smoke, and dry crackling leaves.




Nectar of the Gods.

Down the road a ways, we had a laugh.




We followed the sign, but found neither hole nor Frenchman.



But we did pass a camp….




With the perfect name.




That says it all.




I love the country!



More baby annoyances.


This week the baby barn saga is a two-fer…. lucky you!  I spent far too much time on the husband’s rusty crap  stuff yesterday, so today?





Old shingles had to come off first and that was a nightmare. They’re over 40 years old and brittle as hell. Pieces and parts at best, and it seemed like every nail he tried to pull was bent.



                                             *inserts required ‘porn for women’ shot here*

Sweep, baby… sweep!



Walls were coming off left and right….




And we seemed to be making progress.




How’s that for an action shot?

Mid air plywood!



More sweeping…




A little rotted wood.




(It was only holding up the roof, and my husband… no worries.)



And a room with a view later…




The rain that wasn’t supposed to start until after midnight was threatening and we had to scramble to waterproof.




This meant a patchwork of zip siding with a corner that wasn’t exactly … how shall we say?





Followed by my favorite part.




Rolling out and tacking down tar paper in 30 mph wind.




Please note I’m risking life and limb giving you roof top photos.

You can call me crazy, but you can’t say I don’t go the extra mile for my readers.




So this is where we left it… weird, but water tight.

One dry days work, and a full half a day covering it up for the next rain storm. Had we started this stupid project in September…. when we were begging for moisture, instead of October… where it rains very other day, I dare say we’d be further along by now.

The baby nightmare continues…


Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.




When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.




Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.




Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.




I assured him it was not.




What? Why? How much….



I didn’t even want to know.




Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.




But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…




I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…




I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.






We’re baaaaack!





I know, you never missed me.

But we had a fabulous nature filled week in Western Maine and Eastern New Hampshire and are happily exhausted.

We toured the White Mountains…. hiked, resort hopped, slept with rubber ducks, took beautiful scenic drives, leaf peeped, stalked a moose, went sight seeing, built a cairn, peed in more portapotties than I thought possible, and basically ate and drank our way across 2 states.

Life is good.

At least for us.

There are 1704 photos waiting to be posted here… so it may not be good for you.

And if you thought my series about the red rocks of Arizona were plentiful?

We were in granite country for 7 days people!

Rocks and trees, trees and rocks, more trees, even more rocks. We even went to a rock museum.




But there are some baby barn updates I need to fit in, as well as all the other scheduled stuff…. so it won’t be wall to wall granite.

You’re welcome.

Because everyone needs a drink.


Bird baths.

They’re not just for birds anymore….




These little guys never used to drink here until an apple tree sprouted in my garden bed a few years ago.




Now they’ve realized they can safely climb onto an overhanging branch and jump in.

Like I do…



                         Actual photo of me last Saturday night.


Pardon the quality of these shots, but it was dark and I was shooting through a window.




I’ve often wondered why the deer don’t stop to slake their thirst.




Now, I have proof that they do.






Colors and critters.


Looking across the street to our neighbor’s organic vegetable farm is always interesting.




But this time of year, it’s downright beautiful.




Who knew artichokes could be so pretty?

And when our neighbor has wood chips delivered….








When you’re a farmer’s child?

You don’t need no stinkin’ sandbox.




On the critter front,




We’re down to one lone woodchuck.




He’s still fat…




And still clumsy…




And still hangs out on our deck once in a while. But it’s autumn, and all his brothers and sisters are finding dens and getting ready for winter. I doubt even this one will be here much longer.





Autumn also means the deer are changing into their darker winter coats. One summer coated hold out is on the right for comparison.




A murder of crows have now discovered our bird bath.

Why are they called a murder?

The Oxford English Dictionary suggests this is an allusion to the crow’s traditional association with violent death or its harsh and raucous cry.  If you’ve ever heard dozens of agitated crows in full cry, it really does sound as if they’re yelling bloody murder.

As long as they don’t murder me in my sleep, I don’t care what you call them.






Uh oh.





And finally, we have a new skunk in town.




I admit I never really paid attention to skunk tails before, but we’ve had so many different families this year I’ve gotten to recognize them by their individual patterns.

This is Tippy.





Brilliantly named for the white tip on her tail.

Is she really a she?

I neither know, nor care to get close enough to find out.












No, not eggs.


You see, for the entire year my husband has been saying he’s going to retire in December. He also forbade me to book any vacations because he works for the Federal Government and can sell back his leave when he goes.

(He gets 5 weeks off every year, so the payout can be substantial.)



Except now that the day is rapidly approaching, he decided he’s going to work a little longer.

Yes, his reasoning is sound.


  1. The old boss he hated has left and been replaced with a laid back, drama free manager.
  2. Starting next year, they’re going to push teleworking from home 2-3 days a week…. and since he already works four 10 hour days, it will probably be a 1 day a week commute.
  3. Good benefits.
  4. Good pay.
  5. The ability to dump more in our TSP (Thrift Savings Plan, the government’s answer to a company matching IRA).


I get it.

I do…

But our retirement plan was to travel, and I’d like him to be semi-mobile and breathing without a respirator when we do. (Hauling a corpse in and out of resort elevators is such a drag.)




But back to the scrambling….

It’s almost the end of the year and I don’t have much time to plan and book 5 weeks worth of vacations before time runs out. It’s not easy with the holidays right around the corner. We have a timeshare on a points system and can go anywhere, but since he’s waited so long to request time off, he can’t get more than a week at a time…. which leaves out long distance trips. I hate spending 2 days flying back and forth for only 4 days on site. With the price of tickets these days, it’s not worth it.

So thanks to WordPress’s magic scheduling ability, as you read this… we are currently returning from a week at a ski resort in the western mountains of Maine.



That’s right Lionel, I haven’t been here for a week and you didn’t even miss me.

God bless technology.

Did we ski? Hell no, it’s too early for that… even in Maine. But it’s a beautiful area and I’m sure we explored. And drank. And took pictures.

The deluge of photos will begin shortly….


not again


You’ve been warned.