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     This past week has been uncharacteristic; it has snowed for 5 days, mountain snow showers that fall, often heavy, all day, but accumulate nothing more than a dusting at night that disappears during the day in spite of the continued showers.  We are being threatened with the worst storm of the season this coming week.  After our January storm that took out our power for 72 hours, we have kept the downstairs bathtub filled, 5 gallon containers filled and ready to deal with it again.  This weekend, we had house guests, so the tub and containers were drained to get them out of the way and to make the guest bath available.
     This afternoon, as they have returned home, we again are preparing for this potential storm by refilling the tub and containers and if we really get a foot or more of wet snow, we may not be able to get out for a few days, so I am also partially preparing some meals that can be finished easily on the propane camp stove.
     Our houseguests were my sister in law and her friend.  We drove the hour to the nearest, very small ski resort, for a day of skiing yesterday.  The conditions were fair, snowing lightly, but it being a Saturday, it was crazy busy, long lines and the snow quickly getting skied off by too many people, many up there with groups and new skiers.  It is a great resort for new skiers, and the friend is a new skier, but it was frustrating to us, especially on the heels of our great week in Colorado.  As a result, hubby and I went over to the most difficult two runs on the mountain, where there were fewer people and more challenge to ski.  Our first run down this, I was feeling confident, unafraid of my speed or the ice patches.  About a third of the way down, suddenly I was in the air, then my head was slamming down on the ice and I was sliding head downhill on my back about another third of the way down the run.  To my amazement, once I stopped, I was able to get up by myself, looked uphill to see a man and his teen son collecting the missing ski and poles and skiing toward me to check on me, shocked that I seemed okay and had gotten up.  After much concern and assurances on my part that I was OK, the Dad stated, “Ma’am, that was a spectacular fall!”  I am lucky, all I seem to have experienced is much soreness, whiplash type soreness, and a sore spot on the back of my head and a small cut on the bridge of my nose (I was wearing a helmet and goggles, fortunately).
     I have never been a fan of guns, but live on a farm in the mountains, and when we moved here, we installed a gun safe for the few guns and a hunting rifle that my husband owned or had inherited.  I have not even fired a gun on a range in more than 40 years.  As we are beginning this spring to start our livestock acquisition, and since the coyote population seems to be swelling, we determined that I should learn to shoot, safely and accurately.  None of the weapons in the house were ones that I could handle, so very uncharacteristically, I suggested to my hubby that perhaps we should go look at a smaller rifle that I could handle, that I could use to defend our livestock and garden from the coyotes and groundhogs should I be here alone and need to do so.  We made the purchase and now we are going to have to make some treks to the local shooting range to familiarize me with the handling and safety of this rifle and to help me learn to fire it accurately.
     This has not be a characteristic week.

The morning is bleak, heavy clouds hanging over the peaks and obscuring their tops.  The deck, east windows, and cars are shelled in a layer of ice, wind is howling and the precipitation is a mix of solids and liquids.  The forecast for the next 3 days hops from freezing rain and sleet, to snow, to rain and back to snow.  Not pretty, not recreational, a hazard to be out in it.  My sinuses warned me of this late yesterday.

The unusual feature of this winter yuck is that the wind is coming from the east, the clouds are blowing toward the west.  We rarely have a wind from this direction on the mountain.  If the pattern of the past few weeks holds, this system will be followed by a day or two of warmer than seasonal temperatures, rising to near 50.

The wetter than average winter has taken a toll on our driveway and front lawn, the pups playing there have helped tear up the lawn.  Spring will bring seeding, grading and a new load or two of gravel.

     We live 5 miles from Mt. Lake Hotel (of Dirty Dancing fame).  When we were looking at the property and making all of the construction decisions, the lake was full.  We stayed there for several nights with our eldest son and family and our youngest son.  It is a delightful place to stay.  Over the past 7 years, we have watched the lake go completely dry on two occassions and have read that this phenomena has occurred in the past when geologic changes have cause the drain holes in the bottom to leak water more quickly that the springs and rainfall were filling it.
     Though it is not the attraction that brings in visitors in this state, it is interesting to watch.  Since it went dry 3 summers ago, it has only refilled to about 20%, draining toward the dry end of summer and refilling partially in the winter.  We began to wonder if we would see it refill in our lifetime.  Last summer, when it was nearly dry, geologists began a study of why it was overdraining, where the water was going and if it would self correct.  Then the Conservancy that owns the property announced that the General Manager who had been there for dozens of years was retiring and a new, very young General Manager had been hired.
     Articles began to appear about the changes that were being made to bring back the guests, tearing down some old buildings, renovating others, adding new recreational opportunities, teaming with a local river outfitter for kayaking, rafting, or fishing trips on the New River.  Though I hated to see some of the buildings go, these were understandable changes.
     The change that bothers me, however, is that they have hired a company that has come in with heavy equipment to completely drain the lake, recontour the bottom, using boulders, then rocks, then gravel and soil to plug the drain holes in the bottom of the lake in hope of it refilling completely in the next two years.  We drove up to see this today and have a gnawing concern about how this might affect the water table and the wells of us that live a couple thousand feet below the lake in elevation.  Pehaps we should allow mother nature to take care of herself.

This year’s winter vacation was not with a ski club.  Instead we journeyed off to Steamboat Springs on our own to visit and ski with our cousins from Atlanta.  Leaving our home at 3:30 a.m. for a 6 a.m. flight.  Our accomodations were a beautiiful spacious 3 bedroom house that they traded for 2 weeks for their lovely hacienda in Zijuateneo Mexico.  From the house we can see Steamboat Springs ski slopes, the town and Howlsen Hill training area.

An afternoon adventure took us took us out of town to Strawberry Park to the hot springs.  It had snowed all day and had accumulated several inches, making the steep, narrow road a challenge, but our fearless driver in the rented Subaru Forrester met the challenge.  Upon arrival and paying our entry fee, we were directed to the changing hut, a small wooden structure, unheated, with 3 curtained stalls to change from all our winter layers into bathing suits.  Suits are optional after dark, but it was afternoon, so suits we wore.  The hut seemed freezing cold and to get from the hut to the pools were 30ish icy stone steps.  Back on went the snowboots.  Towel wrapped around the shivering body, out into the snow we went to a tiny stone shelter where you could leave your shoes and towels before settling into the pool of your choice, ranging from 70f to 110 f.  With hats on our heads to keep the snow off, we started in one of the warmer pools until we were about half boiled, then moved to a slightly cooler mineral pool to soak the sore from our skiing muscles and half fearing the walk back to the changing hut would be chilling in the 21 f air temperature and snowfall.  A quick dip back in the hotter pool, we ventured out and much to our amazement, we stayed warm, relaxed and sluggish as we climbed the icy steps back to the changing hut, which surprisingly no longer felt cold.  The rest of the day was been spent in residual lazy relaxation, hung over from the mineral bath under the snowy skies.

Six great days of skiing with more than a foot of fresh powder while we were there.  We arrived home 8 days later just after midnight.  It was a great, exhilarating week.

Snow fog this morning.

     The change in seasons brings new sights and sounds to the lives of the pups.  Our log home has a metal roof and the ice and snow sliding off and crashing to the ground made them jumpy and constantly on guard for the first couple of snows we had.  Now they glance up and ignore it.
     The end of hunting season has brought the deer back out to graze and as the grass is browned and often covered with snow, they come closer to the house where the rain runoff areas that are sheltered from the worst of the winds, often have more grass or clover still available.  Their scent and occasional glimpse of them make the dogs crazy.
     Ranger, the mastiff, takes offense at the vacuum, barking at it like it is going to eat me, brooms and mops are potential toys, to chase.  This makes cleaning up the constant coating of dog hair a bit of a challenge and I have learned to do it when they are outside chasing each other or to our dismay, exploring the creeks that are flowing freely with the rain and snow melt.
     The newest item of their concern, however are two tiny Tufted Titmice that discovered a dried sunflower that I hung last fall from the eaves of the front porch.  They have been flitting in and out grabbing seeds for the past several days.  At first the dogs barked, scaring the little birds away.  Now they sit, vigilant. . .

Ranger, bone in mouth, watching them from the living room windows.

Shadow, alert and probably wondering if she could catch one, she is the stink bug annihilator, chasing them down and eating them.  She also brought me a dead, half eaten squirrel a few day ago.  Only she know where she got that one, but it was still flexible.

The source of their attentiveness.  Our guard dogs.

     The snow caped skeleton trees and frosted cedars, glimpses of the snow through the bare forest on the hillside, snow on the ground and still falling, make a memory to revisit when the temps and humidity soar this summer.  I love the mountains, year-round.

     I don’t know how long it takes to make a tradition, but this is the 4th Friday in a row for snow.

     Another snowy wonderland for puppy play.  A day to knit, spin and read.

     The severe weather in the south has thankfully missed my family living in Georgia.  It is raining hard here, with flash flood warnings and the threat of more trees down and power outages.  The floods are not really a threat to us this high on the mountain and our creek is lower than our house.  The weather was a discouragement to drive two towns over to my weekly knit night.  I missed them last week while we were skiing, and I was looking forward to the socialization, but I don’t like to drive at night in good weather, so venturing out tonight wasn’t going to happen.
     Instead of knitting with the ladies, I stayed in and spent the evening spinning.  I finished half of a 4 ounce bag of Merino that I bought with my daughter in Florida last summer and plied about 130 yards of 9 wpi (worsted) weight yarn for her.  I don’t know what she will do with it when I finish and mail it to her, but it has been interesting to spin and I learned Navajo plying to try to keep the colors interesting.