February

Even as a little kid, February always felt like the hardest month of the year to me. The cold has been well settled in since November and we've endured the 31 days apiece that December and January has to offer. In November the winter is just beginning, in December we are filled with holiday spirit, and in January we are ready to relax from the previous year and start fresh with a new one. By the time February rolls around, however, we are well settled in the new year and March is on the horizon with hopes of spring. Even with only 28 days (29 on occasion) the ever-present slow and cold temperatures makes February feel like the longest month of the year. And even with each days awarding us a few more moments of daylight, the darkness of winter still feels heavy.

In the last days of January we were hit with the first hearty snow storm I've seen in Vermont since arriving. Even with so many cold days the lack of snow afforded some relative ease to winter life. Driving was safer and I was always dry from the ankles up. It certainly felt like a kick in the face when four inches appeared in the wee hours of the morning and I drove into the bakery on unplowed roads. Clearly, winter is still here and here to stay for a while yet.

Even in all the snowy beauty and the constant stimulus of new people and places, the old heavy feeling of February bared down on me today. Tired of cold and yearning for spring bike ride and summertime shorts. Even to get down to my lighter coat would be a plus.

I keep reminding myself to be in the present moment and appreciate it for what it is. Each time I check the weather for the day, sunrise is nearly at 7am and sundown has just about stretched to 5pm. Truly glorious progress. We've had more sunny days here than cloudy ones which is an amazing phenomena for a northern state. And honestly, the snow is beautiful and offers you things that no other season can. It allows you to walk across frozen streams that you'd be hard pressed to traverse in warmer temperatures. The way the snow clings to trees branches is magic and grace. And when the sun shines, it's brighter thanks to the reflection of the snow. There is a lot to be grateful for.

This February I'd like to work to turn over anew, as far as Februarys go. Keep the fresh momentum of January resolutions going. Find ways to stay bright in the cold dark winter days. Keep the body healthy and the mind clear. And keep watching the sun reclaim small bits of either side of the day.

Finnish, helmikuu: "month of the pearl"Polish and Ukrainian, luty or лютий: the month of ice or hard frost.Macedonian, sechko (сечко): the month of cutting [wood]Czech, únor: the month of submerging [of river ice]
Croatians, veljača: the meaning is unknown but may come from the word for "greater," a possible reference to the days increasing in length

The Cold Mountains

Since arriving to Vermont I've experienced cold like I've near experienced before. Standing outside at the Rochester Public Market in 5 degree weather last year may have earned me some serious cred but below zero is a new level of cold. Its bites and stings faster than you can get your gloves on. It makes your respect the limits and frailty of the body. If one were out for long enough without the proper clothing things could become serious quickly. Initially I felt like an underprepared wimp. Are my sweaters really not warm enough? Why would anyone leave the warm house in this? But around here, folks sure do.

Although it sounds like Western New York has been experiencing similar temperatures to Northwestern Vermont, winter has a different flavor here. In Rochester we often find ourselves hunkering down. Most of us are indoors as much as possible; it's rare to find the adventurer or runner that toughs out the single digits and the piles of snow. Here, however, I'm noticing that more people are venturing into nature regardless of the temperatures. Sometimes the more snow the better. Skiing and snowboarding are regular activities as are hiking and snow shoeing. Even runners and cyclists are still doing their thing. And gear is the name of the game: crampons? microspikes? It's a whole universe of outdoor adventure and sporting that I am just becoming introduced to.

Once my fingers and mind thawed from the frigid cold, I realized "Fuck, I'm in the Green Mountain State. It would be such a waste to not experience it while I'm here." We've also been getting blessed with more sunlight than I've seen during any northern winter to date which makes staying indoors seem unreasonable. So on my day off (that's right, day off) I headed south towards to mountains to Waterbury where Christina would be my guide and hiking buddy up Stowe Pinnacle.

Layered up and with microspikes strapped to our feet, we started making our way up with mountain. It was only 1.65 miles to the top but it was uphill the whole way. With the sun shining on the snow and the trees barren the woods were bright and open. It felt wonderful to breath in fresh mountain air. Lucky for us the trail had been traversed a lot lately and the snow was stamped down to make for easier walking. Either way it would have been very frustrating if not impossible to hike without the microspikes. They are a very cool invention. 

                                        

Along the way we'd stop tracks of small winter critter or of snowshoers who had pasted through earlier. We made some brief breath-catching breaks, a stop at a teepee, and some laying in the snow to cool off breaks (for Christina, I had left my waterproof snow pants behind). About halfway up I found myself shedding mittens and hat and breaking sweat. Layer in 1 tee shirt, 2 long shelves, 1 flannel, 1 sweater, and 1 coat (and that was just the top layer*) I came to respect that my layering logic came from standing still under the Public Market shed. Christina brought up the slightly disturbing idea of sweating too much and having it freeze. It was about zero degrees, after all. Note: less clothing next time.

*bottom layer was 1 paid legging, 1 pair leg warmers, 2 pairs socks, and boots

The last .65 miles was a push -- steep, so close yet so far. But the top was breathtakingly rewarding.

As we stood at the top, now exposed completely to the wind and body temperatures cooling rapidly, I understood why these people lived here and why they invested in spiked shoes and cold weather gear and braved the cold mountain passes that lead to summits. The mountains have a way of reminding you of your place in the world. Everything feels sturdy and strong. On the way up the mountain ask things of you and, if you respond with grace and respect, you are sweetly rewarded. Even if it is only for a cold and windy moment you can see the world from a magical perspective. You are just as atop it as you are within it. You didn't conquer the mountain but you became a part it. As your journey back down, you are a little brighter and calmer and lighter for it. 

In the cold and snow we are shown beauty, peace, and magic in a way that no other season can offer.*

*This message brought to you by mircosprikes.

Winter: An Introduction

After lots of dreaming, planning, thinking, talking, packing, and debating I made my way to Vermont last week. Since arriving I've settled into a place to live, met loads of new people, fought off (most of) a cold, and started what I came to do: baking bread.

Getting here was a process that took months of energy and uncertainty. I'd been in contact with Bread and Butter Bakery as well as other bakeries since the summertime trying to see who had the space and willingness to help me fulfill the education I was seeking. It took some time to hear back from folks and some time to weigh the options. Truthfully, most everyone was willing to have the conversation and all of the options seemed excellent. As life would have it right as the balls were getting rolling a few additional challenges sprung up. The Subaru I was driving shit the bed and suddenly a vehicle expense was in the very near future and a searching for affordable housing was underway. As life would also have it both of those challenges presented graceful and ideal solutions, even with whatever sleep I lost over them.

Once the vehicle was resolved and the housing was about it to be resolved with just a visit, I, with Eli and Luke's brainstorming and encouragement, packed and loaded the car for Vermont. Holy shit, here we go.

With the car loaded with the most important needs for the next 2 1/2 months and Eli in the passenger seat, off we went. The drive was smooth, meeting people to live with was great, and Christina acted as a wonderful host during the quick but thoughtful decision making process. Two days later I was moved into a place with two lovely roommates and their two great dogs in Colchester, VT.

The past week has been one of the fullest. I've moved into a new place, met so so many new and amazingly friendly people, found a great yoga studio, only skimmed the surface of the geological beauty of the Green Mountain state, fired the oven (!!), and assisted in making some truly wonderful bread. Each experience warrants its own story and I'm still noddling on how to give everything the attention it deserves. I'm sure I'll get to all the best parts in detail soon enough, but for now here are a few pictures from the week: