Whitehill

Saturday morning. Jay was off early to meet Mike who is going to do some work on the building at Laurens for us. There’s a light snow falling. Charlie, Hazel Tov and I are on the couch in front of the pellet stove and the great, west facing window. It’s a beautiful place to sit and not work on my taxes or the survey I’m drafting for Beth El. Hazel Tov is growing in her sleep. She seems to get a step closer to cat sized every day. She has the unfortunate habit of rising at around 4:00 AM. Between Jay and me, we can usually get her to stay quietish until 5:00, but after that, it’s a losing battle, and I might as well get up. She’ll sit right in front of my face and tap me on the nose until I do.

Sometimes, actually often, the early rising makes me a little grumpy. But this morning the sky was clear enough for a beautiful view of Venus and Saturn in the east, and it’s hard to stay grumpy before that sight. We’ve had a lot of cloudy weather, and I haven’t seen much of the night sky in the last few weeks. Last night, after dinner in Cooperstown, we came home through a landscape of bluish snow and black trees under the light of the gibbous moon. We were in Cooperstown to attend a talk on home solar power. We waited patiently outside the Methodist Church, but as the appointed time drew near and the church was still dark, I checked the calendar listing and found that the talk was at the Methodist Church in Oneonta. Sigh. Too late to get there in time, but we’ll contact the presenters and see if we can meet with them. And we had a nice dinner and a beautiful drive.

We still haven’t figured out what, if anything, we’re going to do with our 21 acres. We have an ideal spot for ground solar panels on the south side of the hill. They would be on the far side of the garage, and invisible from the house. We have plenty of roof area for solar, but that brings the possibility of damage to the roof and leaks. But other than the possibility of solar panels, we don’t yet have a plan for land use. This summer Jay will probably just brush hog and mow, to see if he can discourage the rampant goldenrod. He’s talked to people about growing hay, but several reliable sources tell us there’s not a market for it. My vote, channeling my Mom, will be to let it lie fallow, habitat for birds and critters.

One thing we’re agreed on is that we don’t want to use the land for anything that requires a lot of work. I’ve written about our friends the Quinns down the road, at the intersection of Manley and Gulf, who have a lovely apple orchard. It’s clearly a great retirement avocation for Mike, but starting such a project at 70 doesn’t look appealing to either of us. We might plant a few fruit trees, and maybe some berries, but I don’t want a part time job.

It’s nice to think about what we’ll do in the warm weather, but here in mid-February I’m in no hurry for winter to be over. Our hill is beautiful under its blanket of snow, different in every light and every shift of wind. The snow compacts as it melts and then refreezes with a crust hard enough to support Charlie’s weight in places. This morning, before the clouds moved back in, the hard surface of the snow reflected the rising sun like a mirror, too bright to look at. Cooperstown, still empty of tourists, is quiet and pleasant. There was no wait for a table at Bocca last night. At the gym we commiserate about driveways and roads, and we luxuriate in the sauna. Peter and Aviva will be back from Panama in a month and we’ll be so glad to have them home, but we’ll leave just a couple of days later for a trip to California and Washington, and by the time we’re back on the hill at the beginning of April winter will be gone. So with only a month of winter left to enjoy I’ll cherish my time on the couch in front of the fire with Charlie and Hazel Tov, looking out on our white hill.