Metaphorically, like a nonfiction novel, life is nothing more than a collection of chapters, in order, from birth to death. The first of these takes place too early to be recounted, and the last of them is selectively forgotten until the page before last is written. As our story unfolds, unique moments (the ones we admit and the ones we deny) blur together with our general storyline, and combine to describe who we were and how will be remembered. Our lives then, our body of work as it were, frames the picture of us that others will see after we are long gone.

I have been thinking about this idea of "legacy" in recent months, partly inspired by the recent loss of two of my closest friends (their deaths only a couple of months apart), but also because they're passing reminds me that any day could be our last so there's never a bad time to take stock of where we are in life and whether or not we're satisfied with the use we have put it to.

In the movie "Gladiator," Marcus Aurelius wonders how he will be remembered, concerned that what he fought hardest to accomplish (the return of Rome to its former glory) will be lost to the memory of the brutality required to achieve it. And while it is true that the movie is partially fictional, some pieces are based on actual events, which allows for fair parallels to be drawn with our own respective lives. And as it relates to our respective life stories, the same question can be asked: how will we be remembered, and would we be satisfied, positive or negative, with the fairness and accuracy of it?

One of my favorite quotes from that movie suggests that "what we do in life echoes in eternity," but it can be fairly said that what we don't do in life likewise echoes in eternity. It's a curious paradox to muddle concerns about what we've done in life with all the things we didn't do. A sober reflection, however, suggests the better life is lived wherever the latter far outnumbers the former.

As your sensibilities rise up to protest against the nuance of that last sentence, take a step back and consider the human capacity to do terrible things. Then ask yourself whether the few good things you have done might be a smaller number than all of the terrible things our species is capable of. As your elevated heart rate subsides, consider not only the good things you have done for those you care about, but also any good deeds done for total strangers or people you've never met.

In my own life, I'm satisfied that I have done more good than bad, wives and estranged children notwithstanding, but this isn't the full measure-or shouldn't be-of how I will be remembered. Nor should it be for any of the rest of us. Human life is conducted between the guardrails of what we can do, what we should and should not do, what we're required to do by human law and natural law, and what we convince ourselves we can get away with if left to our own devices.

Although statistically likely that I'm going to remain on this mortal coil a number of years longer, enough of my story has been written that I have a general idea how I will be remembered by family, friends, and loved ones. Some of it will be fair, some of it will be unfair, and the accuracy of these will definitely be in their respective flavors of perspective. The reality of this serves as a reminder that those things over which we have no control are not worthy of our concern.

I have accomplished many things, visited many places, written and published numerous words, made friends and enemies, and am partially responsible for many children, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren. I've given money to homeless people and panhandlers. I've given financial support to aspiring writers and donated money to charitable causes. Bits and pieces of these things will frame the picture of how I will be remembered by others. But how will I remember myself?

I have written mostly jokingly about having had a face-to-face conversation with my mortality in my hospital bed after having survived my third stroke. I say "mostly jokingly" because it was that near-death experience that brought me to understand how fragile life really is.

The lesson I took away from it was that once it has visited you and left you still breathing after it's gone, death is inevitable, leaving you free to find joy in the rest of the ride. In the years since, I have been committed, in the final leg of my journey, to spreading kindness and generosity to as many less fortunate people as I can reach in the pursuit of hope that at my own passing I will remember myself best for all the good I did for others that they will never know came from me.

The song linked below inspired me, in part, to write this piece. It conveys the message about the tangible things we strive to leave behind. Missing in the lyrics is the intangible; let not the fleeting works of greatness overshadow the quiet and subtle kindness that perpetuates into eternity.

It's been a hot minute, as kids these days like to say, since I have laid at the sacrificial altar even a single syllable to the universe of words. This has been by design.

My last entry, a wrap-up of a 13-week series, left me feeling ambivalent about future work, burned out and exhausted, and not the least bit inspired by the closure I gained from finishing the enterprise.

I bought the latest upgrade to a video game I have been playing in some version or another for the better part of 25 years and settled in to what became a month of isolation, distraction, self-reflection (you know the one... "What do I want to be when I grow up") and simply and quietly tapped out of the human race.

By the time I realized I had long become bored with my distraction, recognizing that I was hiding behind a meaningless endeavor, I dug in my heels and doubled down, convincing myself to ignore the voices in my head as I barked back at them, insisting that I was almost done... I've almost got this beat... I'll be done soon.

Those of you familiar with addiction and substance abuse (and I've known many, including some of you, dear readers, understand this insidious self-destruction unfortunately all too well.

That last paragraph, grammar and spell check finalized three weeks ago, was immediately followed by news that I had lost yet another 25-year-long best friendship, the second in 3 months, who had died way too early (and long before he should have) to a heart attack that nobody saw coming. I had just finished fixing a website problem for him only a few days earlier, and then he was gone.

When the time is right, I will eulogize him and do his memory Justice, but for now... Still struggling to wrap my head around it... I would like to believe that both Peter and Vassar(who had met each other in person and knew each other quite well over the last 25 years) would tell me, if they were here, that this entry should go live first.

When I started this entry two weeks ago, I had intended it to convey my conundrum at the time about having lost my mojo, as it were, arguing with myself about which direction I wanted to go in pursuit of new writing Adventures. Did I want to resurrect Alice Diaries? My father's poetry? Politics, Society, and Culture? Continue channeling my inner Thoreau, observing and reflecting (and internalizing) my relationship with the natural world?

As the title of this entry suggests, I was straddling the fence... A terribly uncomfortable position metaphorically, and rather painful to do physically... And struggling to decide kept sending me back to the video game to avoid forcing myself to "answer the fucking question" (as the character Steven famously said in Braveheart).

Indecision, it turns out, is a damnable thing; on the one hand, it's quite easy to put off committing yourself under the auspices of protecting yourself from choosing poorly, while, on the other, making no decision at all brings you no closer to moving forward. A very dear friend of mine, listening patiently to me for the last several weeks as I have jumped through hoops rationalizing my lack of productivity, routinely reminds me - letting me think I came up with this on my own - that sometimes in life it is far better to choose the wrong path forward, and travel it long enough to realize that's not what you had in mind when you first set out on your journey, before you realize you made the wrong turn and need to change course.

While I might be a bit long in the tooth at this age in my life, there's no shame in admitting that the older you get, the more likely you will find that knowing what you want to be when you grow up can't be known because we never stop growing up. Let this entry, after a 2-month hiatus - give or take - be the first step in a random direction to get off the fence and start walking. Our paths forward in life were never meant to be straight lines.

Image Source]

Because this will be the last entry in my Hibernal Journal, I thought I would bring this 13-week Journey in my life to a close in a way that is not consistent with how the previous 12 entries have been constructed. If you have been following along since the beginning, you will remember that I have included daily weather conditions, along with sunrise and sunset times, with daily commentary and observations. In the interest of time, I will just share that the Sun continues to rise a few minutes earlier each day, set a few minutes later each day, and that despite her season officially ending on March 19th (this past Thursday), that Winter has not yet left the building.

When me and Alice hit the porch this morning, admittedly later than I had planned for publishing this final entry, we were greeted with 25 mph winds, air temperatures in the mid-20s, and a "feels-like" temperature somewhere south of 10°; not the sort of start to an early Spring day we had in mind. I searched around for Henry David Thoreau (one of several inspirations behind why I set out on this journey), hoping he had offered some insight given his time in the Northeast in the late 1800s, and I was not disappointed. In his "Journal" (18 March 1853), he made this observation: "At the end of winter, there is a season in which we are daily expecting spring, and finally a day when it arrives." [ don't worry, I'm not that smart; I Googled his quotes on winter; that's not cheating; that's winning.]

Despite the calendar telling us it is now officially spring, it continues to be cold in the morning and warm in the afternoon, and even though it was 60° yesterday, we will not see 60° again until the first week of April. This Is Not Unusual in the Northeast, but now that we have achieved the vernal equinox, it's time to bring this project to a close.

Observations of the Winter season:

I set out in hopes of falling in love with Winter, thinking that immersing myself - up close and personal, in her environment and on her terms - I would surely appreciate her contribution to the beauty and wonder of the natural world. In many ways, during my time researching what happens beneath the Earth's surface over the course of the three-plus months she spends draping herself over us with snow and sub-freezing temperatures, I gained a deep and humbled respect for the importance of the winter season.

I learned a few things about worms that don't completely freeze in winter but burrow deeply below the frost line until the worm Moon tells him it's time to start heading back to the surface. I learned that a surprising amount of microscopic life likewise hunkers down deep in the ground in varying degrees of stasis until the blood moon makes its call. Trees, interestingly (at least the tallest and oldest of them) drive roots well below the frost line and develop water sacs from which they will start drinking to start activating the buds that will soon enough become leaves. Life above ground also begins to stir as the squirrels and other rodents start getting busy foraging for scraps left behind by Winter's carnage and chaos. And let us not forget the birds that winter over here, such as the Sparrow, now in competition for food with the waking four-legged furry critters... Did you know their average heart rate is 450 beats a minute?... We locals go nuts when the tourists start pouring in; I can only imagine how the Sparrows feel about it.

Winter's job, though harsh and unforgiving, may well be the most important of the four seasons. It is up to her to kill off the weak, which sustains the strong so they can survive and reproduce. The byproduct of her work provides water and nutrients to all manner of life up and down the food chain and makes ready the soil for the beginnings of new life that will take place in the season that follows her. Autumn delivers the leaves to her, having evicted them from their trees, and she will freeze these (along with the remaining grasses and plants) so they can break down and decay into the soil for use in future growing seasons... Even the weakest of branches on the trees will not be spared once her harsh and bitter winds and heavy snow free them from their hold on the trees.

The featured image I chose for this last entry, published initially via CNN, was made public on February 3, 2023, from Mount Washington in New Hampshire, when it recorded a wind chill of -108°F, breaking the previous record of -103°F. I have been to the top of that mountain, saw the world-renown weather station that sits up there, and am amazed that people winter over inside that station; I did my fair share of whining about the wind being the worst part of cold temperatures, but only those truly, deeply, and unconditionally in love with Winter could do such a thing as that.

I appreciate the extent to which humans find ways to enjoy winter weather, such as skiing, sledding, skating, and the like. I did some of those things myself in my younger years, but those days are long and well behind me now. I appreciated how much she taught me about the ebb and flow of her work and her capacity for both harshness and tenderness, but there's no unconditional love in any of that whenever Winter slaps you so hard, all you can do is run back into the house for cover.

I have determined that I do love winter, but I love her a lot more out the window than I do- at least on the coldest and most bitter of windy days- when I'm sitting on the porch with her and Alice and Emma when she's not howling at us at 45 mph.

Sunday, 03/09/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:07 a.m., under clear skies with a slight breeze, and the temperature was 26°, with a "feels-like" temperature of 19°. The sunset will occur at 6:45.

It was another brisk start to the day, but clear skies suggest that once the Sun's all the way up, it will at least "feel" a little warmer. The anticipation of warmer climes ahead is heightened further because of the clocks being set ahead overnight. Poor Alice is all out of sorts with this time change, and because she is my canine alarm clock, she has begun the process of wreaking havoc on my sleep schedule. The very brief snow shower that greeted us first thing in the morning quickly gave way to a beautiful sunny day spent getting the house ready for Emma's return, napping, and enjoying many sustained visits to the front porch, where me and Alice spent a great deal of time watching the world go by in reflective silence just enjoying the Simple Pleasures of good company and fresh air. The Northeast is not famous for sunsets like the ones that take your breath away in the Southwest, but we're happy to take what we're given, and so we did.

Observation of the day:

There is no shame in doing nothing of great importance and finding a great sense of accomplishment in it.

Monday, 03/10/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:06 a.m., under clear skies and still air, and the temperature was 31°. The sunset will occur at 6:45.

Another brisk start to the day promises temperatures in the 50s as things progress ever so slowly toward the end of the winter season. Mondays are always special in the house because the girls have so much to catch up on, having been apart for 2 days, and their enthusiasm for each other's company never fails to recharge my own spiritual Hermit batteries. The forecast on my weather app suggests that every day will start off in the 30s, advance into the 40s and 50s, and retreat back to the 30s by bedtime. Also, there will be more Sun than clouds, suggesting that Winter is readying herself for departure until we meet again in December. Me and the girls will continue to keep her company while she packs, in between our daily naps, and try to enjoy as much of her as possible as these final days pass.

Observation of the day:

While it is true that taking two steps forward and one step back is a damnably slow pace, it is progress all the same.

Tuesday, 03/11/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:05 a.m., under partly cloudy skies and still air, and the temperature was 32°. The sunset will occur at 6:48.

Me and Alice were greeted by partly cloudy skies and a "warm" pre-dawn 32° air temperature. With a warm front having moved in overnight, the smell in the air was noticeably different; I consciously chose to exclude barometric pressure numbers throughout this project, but with so much time dedicated to being outdoors on Winter's terms, up close and personal in her environment, it was easy to notice the change in pressure and smell of moisture in the air. It is noteworthy to point out that the animal kingdom, outside of we Sapiens, instinctively understands the importance of keeping up with changes in the weather because their survival depends on it. Sapiens, on the other hand, are so busy fumbling with their electronic gadgets (like me and that damnable weather app gadget) that we have grown completely ignorant of our own instincts to learn how to coexist more peacefully with whatever she throws our way. Aside from having learned that the true antagonist of the Winter "play" of the season is not the temperature so much as it is the wind, what I have also discovered is that the so-called lower species, such as the winter birds, the mammals that don't hibernate, and even my own dogs are far better equipped to teach us everything we need to know about this season- if only we'd "listen" to them, and our own eyes ears and noses- than we'll ever get from an app on a cell phone.

Observation of the day:

That student of Winter is best who keeps the mouth shut and the eyes, ears, and nose wide open.

Wednesday, 03/12/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:00 a.m., under clear skies and still air, and the temperature was 38°. The sunset will occur at 6:49.

It was a beautiful start to the day, with pre-dawn temperatures just south of 40°, and you could smell in the air that the climate was changing all around us. We could hear the Crows going at it a few blocks to the southwest, and the Sparrows just a little to the north of us had already gotten started with their morning strategy meeting in the shrubs, presumably dividing up who was going to go into which areas in search of human leftovers from the night before. We started hearing Mourning Doves a few days ago, ever so slowly ramping up their volume, telling us that the spring Orchestra members are slowly making their way back to town, making ready for the cacophony of sound that will overtake the bitter cold silence of the last 3 months. I'm reminded of the Disney movie "Bambi" and the character "Friend Owl" as I chuckle quietly to myself about being surrounded by so much twitterpating. Me and the girls, still avoiding the muddy yard as much as possible, enjoyed quite a few trips to the porch throughout the day and lingered there a while as we watched the Setting Sun chasing the Western sky.

Observation of the day:

As Bob Dylan once magically sang, "The Times They Are A-Changin'"

Thursday, 03/13/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:02 a.m., under snowy skies and still air, and the temperature was 32°. The sunset will occur at 6:50.

Stepping into a snow shower as we went down into the yard this morning, clearly pleasing Alice and mildly entertaining me, I chuckled at Winter's dwindling influence over how we feel about her work. Having checked the forecast before even going down the steps, I knew that temperatures climbing well above freezing would follow a quick burst of snowflakes. I already knew that this day, and the next, would mark the last of her chilly days and that the worst of her work was all but behind us. Despite knowing that Alice is still trying to sort out human language and voice tones, I took the time to explain to her that the first official day of spring would be coming next week, knowing full well she already got the memo since she has been dropping handfuls of her winter coat for quite a while now. Me and the girls continued our extended stays on the porch during the day, enjoyed the beginnings of a beautiful sunset together, and watched with the humblest of respect as Winter quietly wound down her last couple of days before leaving town.

Observation of the day:

As it can sometimes be when you are watching a movie that you already know how it ends, so too is it that you can't help but sit through the end of winter until the final credit rolls up the screen.

Friday, 03/14/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:59 a.m., under clear skies and still air, and the temperature was 26°. The sunset will occur at 6:51. Another brisk morning greeted us as we went outside, but our spirits were high because we already knew that the day would end near 60°. The last full moon of the Winter season, also called the "Worm Moon" (because it marks the beginning of the worm migration closer to the surface), occurred at approximately 2:00 a.m. overnight. This year, because it was also a full lunar eclipse, the pre-dawn sky was all the more special. And as if to add icing on the cake, the Ides of March comes tomorrow, and this journal entry will be published the day before St. Patrick's Day. By Day's end, basking in the glow of the warm sun that we watched retreat to the Western horizon - the girls chewing on sticks, me talking meteorology- the three of us were pretty sure it was the best day ever. I didn't want to harsh their buzz, so I intentionally chose to skip over the news about next week's forecast and how little Winter was going to be making her presents known.

Observation of the day:

Change long-awaited is especially warmly greeted if it shows up early.

Saturday, 03/15/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:57 a.m., under partly cloudy skies and still air, and the temperature was 31°. The sunset will occur at 6:52.

Another pre-dawn full moon greeted us under another clear sky with temperatures right around freezing. Our time of coffee and quiet contemplation was especially pleasurable because quiet roads always accompany weekend mornings, so me and Alice just soaked up every moment of the time we had before the chaos of the day would commence. The girls had their annual checkup at the veterinarian this morning, and unsurprisingly, they are both healthy, happy, and ginormous. Emma's humans have an out-of-town gathering to attend, so the girls will be getting a sleepover pajama party. I enjoy these, most especially because they have each other to terrorize, and I get more time to work on this last entry of the week. We had our 2-hour nap, made several trips to the porch, and settled in for a long visit, with the setting sun at 65° temperatures. Even though the girls thought yesterday was the best day ever, they quickly decided- especially because of all the attention they got at the vet- that maybe today was the best day ever. Note: If reincarnation is really a thing, I want to come back as a Newfoundland. That is all.

Observation of the day:

In all things meaningful and special in life, perhaps the greatest of these is the least among them.

Weekly PostScript:

What a difference a week makes; where I was only a week ago lamenting the bitter nature of strong, cold winds, I find complete contentment in the exact same temperatures, surrounded by soft and gentle breezes. With a calendar week left to go before the Vernal equinox and the subsequent official end to the winter season, next week's forecast suggests that (with a few mild and brief exceptions ) Winter is basically over. Don't get me wrong... I've lived in the Northeast most of my life and have seen blizzards in April, so I'm not counting any chickens just yet, but it is fair to say the worst is behind us until 3 days before next Christmas. If we were keeping score, I would say Winter won because she chased us inside on more than one occasion, but we earned a participation trophy because we kept coming back for more, and I called that a pretty decent consolation prize.

Sunday, 03/02/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:19 a.m., under clear skies with a strong breeze, and the temperature was 11°, with a "feels-like" temperature of -4°. The sunset will occur at 5:36.

As if to remind us that she wasn't the least bit interested in gently fading away into the Spring, Winter greeted us with a pre-dawn arctic slap to the face with a windy 11° air and a wind chill of -4°. Well aware that she's still got 3 weeks to go, me and Alice well-versed in her frigid Windsong, humbly accepted the rules of the morning and took a quick u-turn to the house after biological needs were attended to. It's a funny thing about immersing yourself in Winter on her terms; the longer she tests your will, the easier it becomes to pick your battles. We did our Sunday chores, piled on the blankets for a snuggly midday nap, and enjoyed a beautiful view of Robin's egg-blue skies as they gave way to the Stars.

Observation of the day:

The secret to loving Winter is found not by appreciating her beauty but rather by understanding her relentless ferocity enough to know your limitations in the face of it.

Monday, 03/03/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:18 a.m., under clear skies with a strong breeze, and the temperature was 8°, with a "feels-like" temperature of -4°. The sunset will occur at 5:38.

By all accounts, the only real difference between yesterday and today was that morning temperatures were colder, and Emma was with us. Though not unheard of, it is rare enough to be noticeable when there are back-to-back days of almost exactly the same weather conditions. Now in the 11th week of this 13-week project, as I have said previously, cold temperatures are easily enough contented with, but the wind is the prevailing influence over every decision that is made about how much time will be spent outdoors and how much observation can be sensibly recorded when the wind permeates every unsealed window and burrows itself into your bones and very soul. The midday nap was exquisite, under multiple layers of blankets, and the girls were just as happy as I was to stay indoors and watch Winter do her work through the windows.

Observation of the day :

It's not so much that Winter is hard to love (although she sometimes can be) as it is that, sometimes, she just loves too damn hard.

Tuesday, 03/04/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:16 a.m., under partly cloudy skies; the air was still, and the temperature was 34°. The sunset will occur at 5:40.

As if she had read yesterday's observation of the day, Winter decided to cut us some slack and bring an equivalent heat wave of temperatures above freezing with no wind. Me and Alice were able to enjoy our coffee and quiet contemplation in the pre-dawn hours out on the porch rather than being chased back inside to await her sister's arrival at Doggie Daycare. It was a beautiful day... we took a few extra trips outside to enjoy the fresh air and spend some quality time chewing sticks on the porch. The sunset was well worth sitting through in large part because the wind decided not to chase us back inside. Winter may not be done with us yet, but she is at least gracious enough to give us a little respite occasionally so we might get a little taste in advance of what life will soon be like once she has departed for the year.

Observation of the day :

Through even the most challenging and difficult of times, the eyes of storms can sometimes bring both respite and newfound strength to endure the next wave that is surely coming.

Wednesday, 03/05/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:14 a.m., under partly cloudy skies; the air was still, and the temperature was 23°. The sunset will occur at 5:39.

Old hands at 20° temperatures now, me and Alice enjoyed our pre-dawn coffee out on the porch. The air was still, the roads were quiet, and even the wind chimes were quiet. I knew from my weather app that it would be milder over the next several days, and this meant we could expect soggy, muddy dirt that would go along with the continued melting of the snow and ice. As the day progressed, the temperatures climbed, and we took several trips to the porch (rather than out to the mud fields in the yard) and chewed on sticks while soaking up the fresh air and talking at length about the greater meaning of life. After a later-than-usual but all the same snugly and warm nap, we toddled back down to the porch to enjoy a pretty decent sunset while the growing bird population kept the girls' heads spinning furiously around on their necks.

Observation of the day :

Life really is what you make of it, but it is okay to let it make you from time to time.

Thursday, 03/06/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:13 a.m., under cloudy skies; the air was still, and the temperature was 51°. The sunset will occur at 5:41.

Right on cue, the morning temperature doubled from yesterday's, and we were greeted with a pre-dawn temperature of just a little over 50°. Despite being cloudy, the warm and still air made for a beautiful start to the day. Already knowing the forecast for the remainder of the week, me and the girls made the most of this day. We went out several times more than normal and sat on the porch as I watched them chewing sticks, and they pretended to be listening intently to me, thinking out loud while just enjoying the fresh air and the decent company. We made a point to get downstairs earlier than necessary to watch the sunset; as the days continue to grow longer, Emma's humans pick her up well before sunset is complete, so we try to get as much of it together as we can before she goes home.

Observation of the day :

Once you grow accustomed to the unpredictable nature of things, they don't seem so unpredictable after all.

Friday, 03/07/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:11 a.m., under partly cloudy skies and strong gusting winds; the temperature was 24° with a "feels like" temperature of 10°. The sunset will occur at 5:42.

What a difference a night's sleep makes, me and Alice went to bed after a prolonged stay on the porch in very comfortable weather conditions, only to wake up to howling winds and wind chill temperatures just above zero. We expected it, given that we already knew this day and the next would be mirror images of each other, so I didn't even bother to take the thermos downstairs because I knew we were going to do an immediate U-turn after Alice was done tending to her biological needs. I'm reminded of the expression "in like a lion, out like a lamb" and laughed a little at just how true that expression is, at least as it relates to this year's transition from late winter into early spring. I got a message from Emma's humans telling me she was getting a day off from Doggie Daycare, so by 6:30, we declared it an indoor day and settled into a slow-paced, low-key series of Adventures- Alice with the cats, me with the computer - and took an early and long nap. We went out at sunset, to say we did, but we watched the bulk of it from our warm perch upstairs and inside.

Observation of the day :

When there's no upside to immersing yourself in the raging fury of Winter's wrath, don't.

Saturday, 03/08/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:09 a.m., under clear skies and steady winds; the temperature was 30° with a "feels like" temperature of 22°. The sunset will occur at 5:43.

This morning's pre-dawn coffee and quiet contemplation time started calmly enough; it had warmed enough overnight from yesterday, alongside the wind velocity having decreased significantly, allowing for me and Alice to spend enough time on the porch to show that we had given it the old "College try," but once the wind started picking up again, we headed back upstairs. It was an easy enough decision to declare another indoor day because Saturdays are typically dedicated to putting the house back together in time for the girls' Monday reunion. To put a finer point on it, I have grown weary of the wind, especially when air temperatures are below freezing, and the simplest of excuses would have been enough to convince me that my indoor duties had to be a priority. I know what you're thinking, and you're not wrong- on this day, I just didn't feel like it.

Observation of the day :

Kenny Rogers' "Gambler" knew a thing or two because he had seen a thing or two.

Weekly PostScript:

The week could be summed up in four simple words: Bitter cold wind sucks. Perhaps the greatest learned lesson of the Hibernal Journal project can be found in the realization that air temperature is practically irrelevant, but wind velocity is the true measure of our capacity to endure the Winter season. To be sure, less sunlight puts a general pall over the mood of day-to-day life in cold weather, but added layers of clothing can make that easy enough to endure. Wind, on the other hand, relentless and unforgiving, sucks the life out of any real joy that might otherwise come from immersing yourself in the Winter season on her terms and in her environment. It occurs to me, as I bring this entry to a close that I could use a 100° day with 40 mph winds right about now, but as the saying goes: "Be careful what you wish for."

Born in coal mine country (Benham, Kentucky), my friend of 25 years was raised in a God-centric, Church-going Appalachian country home environment built upon Generations that held firmly to the principles of God, Family, and Country. And in that order.

Thirteen years my senior, we first crossed paths 25 years ago, and once the two of us realized we shared deep ancestral ties to the Appalachian country Folk legacy, it didn’t take long to establish a bond that felt a whole lot more like we were Kinfolk rather than internet friends. We shared a similar upbringing in church-based and God-centric homes; both of us come from Families with a deep appreciation for hard work, kindness and human decency, humility, grace, self-respect, and good manners. We also shared a great disdain for the taste of soap, which was introduced to us frequently in our younger years.

Bridging The “Two Men” In One

God called my friend home on February 22, 2025 (about a week ago as I write this), and I have spent this time trying to think about how best to share his whole story with both the people around him in his everyday life at home who knew him as Pete, as well as sharing it with the internet world that has known him as Vassar for well over 25 years. His family knows the decorated Vietnam Vet who served as a Captain in the army (Judge Advocate General), the loving husband, the dedicated father, grandfather, brother, and son. They know he was a teacher, a corporate man, and a number of other things in his work life over the years, that he loved books so much he built a business buying and selling them (after reading them), and that he was a self-made historian who drove them crazy sometimes with so many things he knew that nobody else had ever heard of. Not very many of the people he knew in the internet world could ever have possibly known these things. Now they will.

The internet world knows that Vassar published nearly 1700 articles on his website, that he published thousands more at various other websites around the internet, and if you add up all of his words between his essays and his sometimes ungodly long comments in response to other essays (and the nearly 200 draft posts at his website he never published), he has contributed countless millions of words to the national and international conversation over the span of his public writing career. His family doesn’t know much about this, but now they do.

Little Old Lady Quilting Circle Bitch Sessions

Sometime around 2008, I was invited to help set up a website for a number of people who had come together at the same website where I met Vassar. That website had a very successful 10-year run before the membership dwindled and people began to go their separate ways. In the internet world, website lifespans are dramatically lower than 10 years, but everyone is proud of their accomplishments.

Roughly 3 years after its inception, Vassar being one of a few contributing almost daily content, he reached out to me and asked if I would build him a website of his own where he could develop his content (within and outside the normal scope of topics) so that he might be able to put all of his work in one place to hand down to his children and grandchildren at some point in the future. I happily did as he asked and will continue to keep that promise I made to him all those years ago to maintain his website, “vassarbushmills.com,” until I can no longer do so.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, also at his request, I set up a website for him and a mutual friend that was part of the larger project mentioned above in order to create a place for veterans to come together and share their stories, experiences, and memories of the years they served and the things they experienced during their various deployments. He was very proud of the work that was done there, the people he met, and the joy so many of the members got out of sharing their own stories and listening to those of others. Not a veteran myself, serving only the function of managing and maintaining the functionality of the website, I was incredibly touched and deeply humbled by so many stories written by so many brave men and women who willingly risked life and limb in service to their country.

I reached out to him in 2018, not long after I had created a new website, initially named “Unwashed Philosophy,” because, given his extensive work in some of those areas over the years I thought he might have a little fun. Because the overall tone and tenor of his works are both educational and philosophical, I thought he might enjoy branching out. Neither of us could have imagined in the early days of that project that what would follow brought the two of us together for weekly 2-hour phone calls that would continue through the last 7 years of his life.

We collaborated on our first book, to which he contributed almost 50%, which ran over 65,000 words and was self-published on Amazon. After a rebrand of the original website and the development of a second book under the name Essential American Wisdom (a collection of long-form essays with a long-form closing argument, all of which spanned over 240 pages), it’s important for people to understand that if you could have been a fly on the wall, Vassar and I sounded like a couple of little old ladies sitting around a quilting circle, having very intense bitching sessions. I went on to self-publish a third nonfiction, inspired mainly by our countless discussions about Thomas Paine, his place in the historical record, and his influence in the work that led to an independent American Nation. The eternal teacher that he was, he insisted that I put that book together on my own, but he proofread and guided me through the review process so much that he is effectively everywhere in that pamphlet as if he was standing over my shoulder when I put it together.

If you asked her, his wonderful and loving bride having come into his office off and on over the years, she would surely quietly smile and say this is the best way to describe those weekly “meetings.”

Teacher & Taught

In our respective lives, Vassar and I found ourselves in the fronts of classrooms teaching adult students about a quite diverse range of topics. The sorts of things we taught are not so relevant here, but the dynamic of two teachers- with very different teaching styles- collaborating on novel-length books, long-form essays, and multi-thousand-word treatises and dissertations was something you would have had to see to fully understand. In all the years we spent doing this together, there was never one cross word between us. There was never any anger, frustration, yelling, or hang-ups on the other end of the line. We each let the other proselytize as long as they needed to to make a point, after which the other would ask questions for clarity, challenge an assertion here and there, and ultimately come to the realization that they had learned something they were so sure of but ultimately had wrong altogether or had misunderstood something along the way. Even though he was 13 years my senior, there were plenty of things I taught him, and he would publicly admit to that, but the things he taught me were, frequently, life-changing and affected the way I went about my own writing as the years went by.

My favorite example of this, at least the one I can state publicly, started back when I first came across him and his commentary at the website where we first crossed paths. It would be years before I told him this, but the one thing about him that always used to drive me nuts… I mean completely nuts… Is how long some of his material was. In the 2000s (and to some extent still true today), any content longer than 350 to 500 Words is a waste of time because readers rarely stay longer than the first couple of paragraphs. We both believe it is a generational thing, starting with the Millennials but even worse with the subsequent Generations and the Advent of cell phones, YouTube, TikTok, and the like because everyone has their chin on their chest and their thumb scrolling through their gadgets at lightning speed.

When we sat down and hammered out the outline of the first book, haggling over which one of us would be doing each of the chapters and in what order the overall book would flow, I brought up the issue of chapter length and word count and the other little pieces of minutia that goes into writing a book, and before I even broached the subject he had already told me no good book chapter is shorter than 3 to 5,000 words. Of course, when I started mentioning the length of some of his essays, suggesting that each chapter should be brief and concise, he quickly pointed out that he hasn’t even gotten warmed up a thousand words into something he wants to “teach” readers about on a topic to which he is quite emotionally attached.

Failing miserably at every attempt to negotiate him down on this issue, he told me to try and experiment. Literally a homework assignment, he told me to take one of his favorite essays that I had written (1,500 words initially, and ultimately the 2nd chapter) and force myself to add 2,000 words. I didn’t argue, although I certainly muttered under my breath more than once as I went through the process of forcing myself to add 2,000 words to an essay I was already perfectly content with, but when all was said and done, I had added 2,500 and spent so much time researching the topic further that I ended up feeling like I could have said more.

Humility, Grace, Self-Respect, And Good Manners

When I was 19 years old, I got a job as a bank teller. Located around the block from the White House, I was required to wear a suit and tie, and my first day of work put me in a classroom with a group of other newbies who would be learning how to do the job, deal with customers, and manage money. I took a seat and noticed a petite Vietnamese lady sitting quietly in a corner by herself, making no eye contact with any of us as we settled ourselves into our seats. At exactly 9:00 a.m., without looking at anyone or speaking to any of us, she walked up to the front of the room, got up on a step stool, wrote the word ”Tact” in big block letters, and returned to her seat where she quietly finished her coffee… A few minutes later.

When she returned to the front of the room, before introducing herself, she wrote under this word the following: “Is the ability to tell a man to go to hell and have him look forward to the walk.” Mind you, I was 19 years old and not yet mature enough to appreciate the deeper meaning, but by the time I left that job, moved out on my own, went back to college, married and had kids, and eventually crossed paths with Vassar all those years later, I knew in my bones how very true those words are.

I share this story here because, over the years the two of us collaborated on writing projects, and one or the other of us would bring my memory of that story up in conversation. He had always loved that story, especially because he appreciated its subtle genius and how much he had always tried to conduct himself that way without ever knowing such a quote existed.

We often laughed about how much of our respective writings, especially on matters of politics, Society, and culture, used tact as a gentle bludgeon in our comments, essays, and interactions around the internet and how much each of us would softly grin, quite proud of ourselves, at how well we could slap somebody down without knowing they had been slapped down until much later after they’d had enough time to think through what we might have said to them on the web.

He always preached to me that, even before we realized what our upbringings gave us, the four cornerstones of being a decent human being and productive contributing member of society would require of us some degree of humility, grace, self-respect, and good manners. We were taught that starting very young in life, it was strictly enforced, and after boot camp, it was deeply ingrained in him. I had the same upbringing, but while he was busy serving his country, I was busy being a rambunctious hippie teenager, so it took me a bit longer to fully appreciate how right he was. And trust me, he never missed an opportunity to remind me whenever he was right about something… But always in a tactful way.

Faith, Fellowship, Frivolity, And Fate

By design, and to best honor his memory, I have ensured that the telling of this Tale about my 25-year friendship with the man I only met once in person will exceed the word count of the chapter my friend Vassar “Pete” Bushmills made me rewrite in the first book the two of us wrote and published together. Over the span of our two and a half decades of knowing each other, teaching each other, learning from each other, and following along with the ebbs and flows of our respective lives, it is important that readers recognize just how rare and unlikely our story is.

In a world of 8 billion people, far too many of whom are in an all-fired hurry (as the two of us said all the time) to live their lives and go about their daily business, the nature of human connection today bears no resemblance to the way things were when we were born. Be it fate, destiny, or even a random accident, that the two of us were able to find a way to personify and perpetuate the “good old days” has been a gift from God that I will carry forward on his behalf and in his honor for the rest of my days.

No one knows beyond projection what happens when our bodies breathe our last breath, but with both of us being well-versed in Biblical scripture both in childhood and over the years that we have aged, I am as sure as I can be that if there is a Heaven, my best friend, Vassar has not only found his way there but is sitting in the middle of a circle of serene and gentle souls listening to him tell stories that never seem to end so much as they all blur together. I’m also sure that since everyone in the audience has an eternity to listen to them, they are all perfectly content to sit there and listen in rapt attention. Perhaps God, fully aware of Vassar’s dwindling capacity for storytelling, decided it was time to give my friend a new audience.

If I clean up my Act in time before it’s my turn to make the trip, once I get there, I’ll quietly pull up a chair and listen right alongside everyone else. He’ll smile softly, scold me for being late for the benefit of everyone else in the audience, and pick right up where he left off… Without even skipping a beat.

Sunday, 02/23/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:31 a.m., under cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 25°. The sunset will occur at 5:27.

We woke up this morning with temperatures in the mid-twenties, and if you are keeping track, it genuinely felt like a heat wave when we hit the front porch. The last day of week 9 started with a "feels-like" temperature of 2°, and the 23° temperature swing was palpable. Pre-dawn Sunday mornings, especially at 5:00 in the morning, are probably our favorite mornings; quiet roads, silent birds, and heavy moisture-laden clouds combine for an especially tranquil start to any day. We lingered on the porch over coffee, Alice snoring softly as I spoke to myself out loud about the to-do list in preparation for Emma's return, and spent the bulk of the day fervently avoiding any actions that remotely resembled physical labor beyond the bare necessities of putting the place back together before the sisters would have their Monday reunion that inevitably destroys any of the work that preceded it.

Observation of the day:

Strenuous physical labor is sometimes necessary, but a sense of urgency to perform it is not.

Monday, 02/24/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:30 a.m., under cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 25°. The sunset will occur at 5:28.

In many ways, it was a duplicate of yesterday. Weather-wise, it felt like a typical Sunday morning because "February vacation" in public schools officially got underway today. The roads were quiet, the air was still, and it was warm enough to linger on the porch and enjoy the peace and quiet not normally available on a Monday morning. Outdoor time with the girls, always good for a few belly laughs, was prolonged each of the times we went out so they could burn off a little steam and I could get some fresh air and time away from the computer. With the forecast promising warmer temperatures as the week progresses, we can smell in the air that the climate is slowly transitioning away from what we've been enduring for the last nine-plus weeks.

Observation of the day:

Change you can't control is better embraced than resisted.

Tuesday, 02/25/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:27 a.m., under cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 37°. The sunset will occur at 5:30.

Another overcast morning greeted us when we hit the front porch, but the incredibly warmer, more humid air was a pleasant change of pace. The weekly forecast had warned us that warmer temperatures were coming, but it said nothing about preparing for an almost overnight explosion of the full-throated bird population that was waiting for us atop the wire across the street from the house. We had heard the occasional crow in treetops near the house, but the full symphony of several different types of birds singing together was something to behold. As pleasant as it was to my ears as I listened to the early sounds of the fledgling spring season starting to wake up, most pleasing to my eyes was watching Alice snap her head up, down, left, and right as she tried to make sense of it all. Winter is by no means done with her work, but her generosity in giving us a sneak peek of what awaits us once she has finished her work for the season was not lost on either one of us.

Observation of the day:

Appreciating a thing you can't see yet know, all the same, is somewhere nearby, is made all the easier when you wait for it to find you.

Wednesday, 02/26/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:26 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 37°. The sunset will occur at 5:31.

Even as we found joy in the warmer temperatures of the last several days, the return of the big yellow orb in the sky and its accompanying warmth gave the girls plenty to be happy about. Temperatures weren't much more than 40°, but the Sun made it feel much warmer than that, and sunset was worth every second we spent watching it retreat into the Western skies. Yard time was frantic, nap time was deep and refreshing, and just about every aspect of the day tasted ever so much sweeter.

Observation of the day:

It's not how we spend our day that matters nearly so much as it is how we remember having spent it.

Thursday, 02/27/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:24 a.m., under snowy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 32°. The sunset will occur at 5:32.

As promised by the weather app, me and Alice were greeted with a mix of snow and rain when we opened the door and went out into the yard well before Sunrise. Because temperatures were right around freezing, given how accustomed we have become to much colder temperatures with strong winds, it actually felt a little balmy, comparatively speaking. We were perfectly content to have coffee on the porch and watch Winter's handiwork unfold as the darkness faded to light with the rising of the Sun. Needless to say, another indoor day was on the menu because of the sloppy conditions in the yard, but the snow that was supposed to stop at sunrise lingered well into mid-morning, offering huge snowflakes that melted almost immediately after hitting the ground. The girls had already opened the curtain so they could watch it and bark at every single dog that came and went with their humans up and down the sidewalk, but the whole experience made for great entertainment as I watched them split their time between barking at the outside world and dive bombing each other off and on throughout the day.

Observation of the day:

Of all the things that can be fairly said about Winter in the Northeast, she truly is a lot like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates.

Friday, 02/28/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:23 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 34°. The sunset will occur at 5:34.

It was a beautiful start to the day, being able to look at clear skies while the Sun was coming up behind us in the east. Temperatures were just enough above freezing that me and Alice were able to listen over coffee to the percussion sounds coming from water dripping off the roof of the porch onto her upside-down summertime miniature pool. The girls are getting a little bit more yard time each day now that the ice and snow have begun melting enough to allow for my safer travel out in the yard with them. Despite clouds having started to move in later in the day, there was a decent sunset for us to enjoy as we basked in the warmth of mid-40-degree temperatures.

Observation of the day:

While it is true that seasons come and go, and each of them brings with them very different flavors of Chaos, it is likewise true that understanding these transitions makes for a calm and humble embrace of them.

Saturday, 03/01/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:21 a.m., under clear skies with a slight breeze, and the temperature was 32°. The sunset will occur at 5:35.

Today is my 67th birthday, and Alice was so excited she simply would not allow me to sleep past 4:30 a.m. As much as I appreciated the face bath, I would have definitely much preferred being allowed to sleep in rather than being forced out of bed by unbridled canine joy for life in general and pre-dawn enthusiasm in particular. Alas, this was not the way she intended me to start the day. The forecast called for 50° temperatures and a mixture of snow and rain... A curious identity crisis of Mother Nature's Winter season. Knowing that the extended forecast for next week includes both 20° temperatures and 60° temperatures makes it obvious that she is finally ready to retire from the Northeast and move on to wherever it is she goes when her work here is done. We aren't getting ahead of ourselves because she has been known to come back, so it's not quite time to mothball the winter attire.

Observation of the day:

Birthdays may mark the passage of time, but they can never fully measure the relationship between the numbers as they climb and your shock at having survived so many yet still find yourself able to continue counting.

Weekly PostScript:

It has been a bittersweet week; I published last week's Journal entry very late Saturday night, and on Sunday morning, I received notice that my best friend of 2 1/2 decades had passed quietly and peacefully around 10:00 p.m. the night before. I spent this week staying faithful to the Hibernal Journal project (he would have fussed at me if I hadn't), but throughout the week I got lost in thought and reflection about our years together and how I wanted to celebrate his life and his memory for the benefit of myself, his friends and family, and the internet world of which - in his space - he was a well-known and outspoken figure. That this week's Journal entry will go live on my birthday, a week to the day since his passing, is a bit surreal, but at the same time, it seems perfectly timed to allow for him to be remembered publicly for each of my readers to know just how much of our friendship influenced all the writing we did together (two and a half books, countless essays, and 6 years of weekly 2-hour phone calls). It's going to be a long time before I'm not in a panic at 9:55 a.m. on a Thursday because I haven't gathered all the material I was supposed to before our weekly call.

R.I.P. My good friend Vassar "Pete" Bushmills.

Sunday, 02/16/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:41 a.m., under snowy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 22° with a "feels-like" temperature of 15°. The sunset will occur at 5:18.

As the weather app promised, me and Alice were greeted by a nice, thick, fresh, new layer of winter paint. Alice was quite pleased by what she saw when she stepped onto the porch and made sure to let me know how excited she was once we got into the yard. Lady Winter surely must have been proud of herself for having delivered us several more inches, knowing she would spend the rest of the day bringing us even more. I've always believed that if there has to be a Winter, there might as well be some snow to look at, even if it's only out your window- to make the whole experience a little bit more worthwhile. The two of us took several more trips Outdoors than necessary just because- since she had gone to all that trouble- the least we could do was show her some appreciation for her efforts.

Observation of the day:

Winter might be the season of death and the beginnings of rebirth, but she also brings with her levels of beauty and wonder that no other season can match.

Monday, 02/17/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:40 a.m., under cloudy skies, with strong winds, and the temperature was 22° with a "feels-like" temperature of 8°. The sunset will occur at 5:19.

As quickly as the peaceful serenity of quiet snowfall was visited upon us, Winter kicked all that to the curb and delivered us the first of what will be several days of dangerously strong winds and bitterly cold temperatures. Despite me and the girls having grown accustomed to many of Winter's twists and turns, we have also been made to understand that days will come (and eventually pass) where only acceptance of her capacity for rage and fury must humbly be embraced. There was no pre-dawn porch coffee, there were only quick visits to the yard, and the only Sunset worth watching was the one enjoyed out the westward-facing window.

Observation of the day:

As it is in life, so too is it in the love affair with Winter that you can't win every battle.

Tuesday, 02/18/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:38 a.m., under clear skies, with strong winds, and the temperature was 16° with a "feels-like" temperature of 1°. The sunset will occur at 5:21.

With stronger winds and colder temperatures than yesterday, me and the girls accepted that another indoor day would be on the menu. I did my writing, they did their grizzly bear fighting, and while the winds were gusting strongly enough to kick my computer offline, we took a long and glorious snuggly nap; it's an interesting thing to see a 200 + lb human and 2 100+ lb Newfoundlands fighting for space on a queen bed, but love always finds a way. And when love doesn't find a way, the human kicks the dogs off the bed.

Observation of the day:

It can be fairly said that some of the best things that we come across in life are not only those things that we weren't even looking for but the things we never considered we would ever need.

Wednesday, 02/19/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:37 a.m., under clear skies, with slight winds, and the temperature was 10° with a "feels-like" temperature of -7°. The sunset will occur at 5:22.

Combining an air temperature of 10° with a slight breeze that makes it feel like 7° below zero is the start of any day that should immediately send you back in the house if you're a normal person. Now in our 9th week of trying to learn how to love winter, me and Alice were actually quite pleased that it was warm enough to have coffee on the porch because the wind wasn't gusting at 45 mph like it had been for the previous two days. It was certainly cold, but comparatively speaking, it was comfortably cold, and we spent a little pre-sunrise time just enjoying each other's company and the deafening silence that Winter offered up to us in exchange for what she had just put us through over the last 48 hours. The trips outside for the girls to do their business lasted a little longer, the indoor play was a bit more chaotic, the midday nap was a bit more restful, and the sunset- under long overdue clear skies- was just a little bit sweeter.

Observation of the day:

Robert M. Pirsig is credited with this quote: “The only Zen you find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there.” He's not wrong, and I would add this applies equally to the Zen you find when you surrender yourself to the environment you're in rather than trying to change it into something it was never meant to be.

Thursday, 02/20/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:35 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 11° with a "feels-like" temperature of 1°. The sunset will occur at 5:23.

Today was basically a repeat of yesterday, with tolerably cold air temperatures but no wind to dampen the spirits enough to chase us back inside. We took our time going outside and coming back in; we had some quality porch time - especially as the sun was starting to go down - and the girls got plenty of exercise before and after our daily nap. Of all the things that can be said fondly about living the Hermit life, it can be argued that routine and repetition are two of the best ingredients, along with a Sprinkle of "no surprises" to make for the best of days. Despite, and maybe even because of, the chaos and calamity that comes with spending your days swimming in canine frivolity, it cannot be overstated to suggest that the best of these can often be those spent submerging yourself in "sameness."

Observation of the day:

Measuring the quality of life is often best accomplished by considering what didn't happen as opposed to what did.

Friday, 02/21/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:34 a.m., under clear skies and gusty winds, and the temperature was 20° with a "feels-like" temperature of 5°. The sunset will occur at 5:25.

The 48-hour break from Winter's wrath was short-lived, me and Alice were slapped in the face when we stepped out onto the front porch with a harsh reminder that she was still in town and had plenty of unfinished Business to attend to before she was going to be going anywhere. It was another one of those " hurry up, we're doing coffee inside today" mornings, and both of us were perfectly okay with that. Each of the trips outside over the course of the day was brief and singly focused on one objective- tending to biological needs and rushing back inside to get away from the bitterly cold wind. With nine weeks of this under our belts now, having proven we can take her best shot and keep her company while she does her death and rebirth work, the hardest lesson we have had to learn is that it's not the temperature of her air that runs us off so much as it is the velocity at which she spreads it around and circulates it into our bones and through every crack of our single pain windows.

Observation of the day:

As it is in chess, when you know before mid-game you are doomed, so too is it true With winter that there is no shame in resigning once you figure out there's no chance of winning.

Saturday, 02/22/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:32 a.m., under clear skies and slight winds, and the temperature was 15° with a "feels-like" temperature of 2°. The sunset will occur at 5:26.

Another out-and-in morning, coffee and quiet contemplation taking place indoors, and some banter with Alice about the challenges of building a loving relationship with a season not at all concerned with our feelings is how we began our weekend. My weather app tells us to expect temperatures to climb up to around freezing by sunset when the skies will be clear. Looking ahead at the 10-day forecast, it appears that the week ahead will be significantly warmer with several days of rain somewhere in the middle, which means the snow will be starting to melt, the ground will be a muddy mess, and the winter season might be on her way out the door for the year. As we watched the sunset, basking in the warmth of the fading Sun and the lack of winds, I told Alice that it would be unwise to assume the worst was behind us; here in the Northeast, we've had blizzards as late as April. It is far too early to get ahead of ourselves.

Observation of the day:

It is in the remembering of the best of days that we find the courage and strength to face the ones we are well aware might be the worst of them.

Weekly PostScript:

It is fair to say that week 9 was a roller coaster ride; at times, it was mild. At others, it was fierce and turbulent, but most of all me and the girls got healthy doses of everything Winter had in her arsenal. Perhaps the greatest of the lessons we learned this week was coming to understand that air temperatures below zero can be defended against, but accompanying high-velocity winds are the Kryptonite that sends the bravest of us running for cover. I mentioned last week that Winter was showing early signs of gathering herself up in preparation for moving on and leaving us in peace for the next 9 months. I failed to mention that it was because the girls had begun ridding themselves of their winter coats in small piles that have now begun to come off in huge clumps. As happy as I am with my weather app, the girls are far better- without having to use words- to let me know that "the times they be a changin'", and Punxsutawney Phil might have gotten this year's forecast wrong.

Sunday, 02/09/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:51 a.m., under snowy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 24° with a "feels-like" temperature of 15°. The sunset will occur at 5:09.

As the weather app had promised, Mother Nature dropped a few inches of fresh snow overnight, with the forecast promising more over the course of the upcoming week. Alice was beside herself at 4:30 a.m. When she hit the top step of the front porch and practically dragged me into the yard... Eating as much of the fresh snow as she could put in her mouth while she was tending to her biological affairs. There is just no way to avoid finding your inner child while watching your 100 lb puppy, jumping and playing and rolling around in it in the very same way you did when you were a kid. We took several trips out into the yard as the day progressed, spending the better part of an hour under Bruce as Alice dug, rolled, flailed, and did her best 100 lb Tigger moves (pogo-sticking like a crazy person) and generally burned off so much pent up energy that only a 2-hour nap would do. The skies were perfectly clear in time for sunset, which the two of us watched until it was almost completely dark, quite sure it was one of the best winter days we have had since she started doing her work a month and a half ago.

Observation of the day:

Happiness can often be just as readily found by observing it in another as when finding it within yourself.

Monday, 02/10/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:51 a.m., under cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 24°. The sunset will occur at 5:10.

After a weekend apart, the girls picked up right where they left off on Friday. They are always so happy to see each other in the morning, and once you get used to the sounds they make and the chaotic flurry of the first hour of twin sisters catching each other up on everything that has transpired since the last time they were together, we settled right back into our daily routine. It really is like Doggie Daycare; me and Alice get up every morning, go outside, and sit together over coffee Before Sunrise so we can get back inside quickly enough for her to have breakfast before I go back outside and wait for Emma to be dropped off at "school." there are trips outside (recess), nap time /quiet times, mostly healthy snacks throughout the day, and the final walk outside one last time to wait for puppy pick up. Our routines and our daily lives together combine for a pretty amazing life... Once you acclimate to colder temperatures and endless chaotic puppy canine enthusiasm, you discover that winter ain't so bad after all.

Observation of the day:

While true that a Hermit life is better - lived in the comfort of routine and repetition, the salt and pepper sprinkled over it laced with canine calamity makes every bit of it taste that much better.

Tuesday, 02/11/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:48 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 6°. The sunset will occur at 5:12.

Like a cat torturing a catnip-laced stuffed mouse, Winter served up an icy cold greeting for me and Alice on the heels of several relatively warm days. When we got outside this morning, the air was thankfully still, so we didn't have to contend with wind-chill temperatures, but Alice did her business, grabbed the leash with her teeth, and pulled me back toward the house and up the steps to the door as soon as she was finished. If it is too cold for a dog built for this sort of weather, it seems to me that no human in his right mind should argue with her. I couldn't help but laugh. Once we got back in the house, she ran to the top step and looked down at me as if to say, "Could you hurry up with the whole thing of taking your hat and coat off? I'm starving, and I know you're dying for your first sip of coffee, so let's pick up the pace here!"I did as I was told, feeding her and the cats first, of course, and we waited for Emma. It was clearly an indoor day, and the three of us entertained ourselves, took our nap on time, and otherwise just enjoyed each other's company.

Observation of the day:

There is no shame in choosing to stay indoors on days you could be outside; "slipper" days need love, too.

Wednesday, 02/12/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:47 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 14°. The sunset will occur at 5:13.

Miss Alice must be going through a growth spurt; for the first time in weeks, I was woken up by the alarm rather than the canine face bath, and when I threw off the covers and sat up in bed, I looked over at her, and she was still sound asleep. I shuffled into the kitchen, hit "GO" on the coffee pot, and came back into the bedroom to see her lying on the floor just inside the door. All I could think of was "the lazy teenager" speech I used to get when I was one, and I couldn't help myself when I started making fun of her about clearly having trouble finding the energy to start her day. When we finally hit the front porch, greeted with 14° weather, I figured out that she probably already knew it was cold and didn't see any reason why she needed to be in a hurry. We have learned, along with Emma, that temperatures below 10 are less worth getting excited about than temperatures over 20, so we knew before Sunrise that it was probably going to be another indoor day, and there was no real reason to feel hurried about anything. She wasn't wrong; once Emma got here, and the energy was burned off after about an hour, we settled into a quiet day filled with naps, occasional treats, and a few brief visits to the yard. We had our Sunset routine, but otherwise, we spent the day in the best low-key manner we could muster.

Observation of the day :

You can't be considered lazy if having chosen to spend the entire day doing nothing was entirely by design.

Thursday, 02/13/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:45 a.m., under wintry mix skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 30°. The sunset will occur at 5:14.

Back to the tongue, ear, and face bath morning alarm clock, I was woken up a little after 5:00 a.m. To find that the promise of snow, sleet, and freezing rain that the weather app had promised last night had been lived up to once we hit the front porch. Admittedly, it was a little disappointing that there wasn't a thicker new layer of winter paint, but the girls were still quite happy with even more snow being on the ground. As the snow turned over to rain during the course of the afternoon, things became a little more sloppy and slushy, but it did not bother them in the least. Temperatures got back down south of freezing by bedtime, barely, but me and Alice agreed it had been a perfect day.

Observation of the day:

There are always messes in life that we make for ourselves or are thrust upon us, but the best of these are the ones that are cleaned up by somebody else- Mother Nature's Winter, in this case, the longer she takes to get it done, the more time we have to enjoy watching her do it.

Friday, 02/14/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:44 a.m., under clear skies and strong winds, and the temperature was 25° with a "feels-like" temperature of 10°. The sunset will occur at 5:15.

It was gorgeous stepping out into the yard this morning because the skies were perfectly clear, and the full moon was still pretty high above the horizon. There were plenty of stars in the sky because sunrise was still nearly 2 hours away, but the wind was absolutely brutal. Me and Alice have learned how to find joy and happiness in Winter's embrace all the way down to the slight breezes and 10° temperatures, but when she wraps us up with 25° and sets her fan to 35 MPH, she's a little harder to love. The forecast warned us that we were in for a blustery, cold, and challenging day with winds gusting as high as 45 MPH. Needless to say, me and the girls spent the day inside once Emma got here. We took our four normal trips outdoors, heading back inside as quickly as we could, resigning ourselves to the fact that we were outmatched and out-gunned and that it would be wise to steer clear of nature's ferocity.

Observation of the day:

As the saying goes, "Sometimes you are the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug," and those who live longest are the ones who figure out how best to pick their battles.

Saturday, 02/15/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:43 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 12°. The sunset will occur at 5:17.

I'm pretty sure Alice's watch is running fast because somehow she concluded that my 4:15 was apparently her 5:30 a.m., but I quickly disabused her of that notion, rolled over, and woke up at 6:00 a.m. for the day. It turned out to have been a great idea to "sleep in"; when we hit the front porch, the lightening, and pale blue skies were perfectly clear, and the fading full moon was still very high in the Western sky, retreating from the rising Sun in the East. With the air being perfectly still, we were able to enjoy coffee on the porch- 12° is not for the faint-hearted, but sufficient layers make it pleasurable all the same- and we discussed plans for the weekend ahead. My weather app warned me that a storm of snow, sleet, and freezing rain would consume our entire weekend; I forewarned her that our "calm before the storm" time was at hand and that she could plan on the rest of the weekend being effectively an indoor weekend. As promised, the weather started going south right around sunset, but as we have learned about her these past weeks, there is a certain sort of serenity in the harshness of winter weather. She may not be easy to love, but once you learn to appreciate her purpose, she's impossible not to.

Observation of the day:

As it is with harsh Winter weather, so, too, is it in life that surviving what you can't control teaches you to better appreciate the things you can.

Weekly PostScript:

The week ended as it began; we went to bed as the snow picked up, and we will wake up with new layers of Winter paint on the ground tomorrow. It is worth noting that getting one or two minutes more of daylight on either end of sunrise or sunset goes easily unnoticed because you don't notice it a day at a time nearly as much as you do a week at a time. Now that 2/3 of Winter has elapsed, it is quite noticeable how much more Daylight there is now than there was right before Christmas. On the one hand, this reality makes for increasing enthusiasm about spring being almost here. On the other hand, now that she is starting to drop subtle hints that she will be leaving soon, I'm already starting to feel like I might actually miss her beauty every bit as much as I'll miss just how fierce and unforgiving she can sometimes be.

Sunday, 02/02/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:59 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 2° with a "feels-like" temperature of -5°. The sunset will occur at 5:00.

It was one of those mornings; with a feels-like temperature below 0°, the girls scrambled to the yard to do their business, and we came right back inside to attend to the coffee routine before breakfast was served. The day progressed nicely, with temperatures making it to 20° by early afternoon. There was no sunset to watch because clouds had moved in, but snowfall started right around bedtime, so the three of us had the chance to watch it for a little while before heading upstairs for the night. Because of the earlier temperatures, each of the outdoor sessions with the girls consisted of biological processes followed by 5-minute wrestling matches before heading back inside, making it more or less just like every other day these last couple of weeks.

Observation of the day:

Spontaneity might be the spice of life, certainly in our youth, but no shame exists wherever reveling in sameness and routine becomes normal once you've aged enough to understand why.

Monday, 02/03/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:58 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 21°. The sunset will occur at 5:01.

It made it above freezing on Emma's last day staying with us while her humans were on vacation. It was a beautiful day, and we spent some quality time hanging out under Bruce, just enjoying each other's company- the girls violently and me peacefully- and we squeezed in an amazing extended nap. Watching the cars go by and people coming and going in low 30° temperatures is not a bad way to spend your day if you can get away with it. Hanging out with Bruce, sitting out on the veranda, is a great spot because we are far enough off the road that we don't have to engage humanoids directly (it's impossible to miss the girls, but I'm practically invisible), and that's just the way I like it. There is no chance of enjoying any sense of "quiet," but "peace" wraps itself around you like your most favored blanket filled with holes you can't bring yourself to throw away.

Observation of the day:

Once you come to appreciate, at face value, everything that's going on around you and lose all sense of what you think and how you feel about it you begin to realize just how insignificant you really are in the general scheme of things.

Tuesday, 02/04/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:57 a.m., under clear skies, with a gentle breeze, and the temperature was 33°, making it feel like 27°. The sunset will occur at 5:02.

Me and Alice were out early this morning, a little earlier than usual, and it is always nice to be greeted by silent roads and quiet distant highways. Emma was dropped off at her normal time, but you would have thought they hadn't seen each other in weeks; the total thrill and happiness those two had when they'd been apart for only a short 15 hours was something to behold. It was a typical day: frequent trips outside for brief grizzly bear dive-bombing sessions and a glorious midday nap. One of the perks to Sunset occurring a little bit later each day, especially in the throws of a heat wave in the thirties (as opposed to near zero), makes the sunset viewing experience for the three of us all the more appreciated and enjoyed.

Observation of the day:

Even when a day isn't especially special or out of the ordinary, the company you keep when you're not doing anything important makes all the difference in how memorable it might become.

Wednesday, 02/05/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:56 a.m., under clear skies, with a gentle breeze, and the temperature was 10°, making it feel like -2°. The sunset will occur at 5:04.

When me and Alice opened the front door and were slapped in the face with two-degree weather (this was not our first rodeo), we did what any mammal with a deep and humble respect for Mother Nature's winter season would do. Alice tended to her business, and we ran back inside so I could drink my coffee in the house... As my grandmother used to say when I was growing up, "I may be dumb, but I ain't stupid." We have nothing to prove to Nature anymore; me and Alice can take Winter's best shots, but, as Kenny Rogers reminds us, we have humbly been taught by her wrath to "know when to walk away and know when to run. " Winter always wins. It warmed up enough by late afternoon that the three of us were able to spend some time enjoying the sunset, and we decided between us that it was a fair compromise to leave her to her business during the day in exchange for being allowed to watch her wind down her work for the evening.

Observation of the day:

Testing Winter is a losing proposition, but once you come to understand her dialect, you can at least figure out ways to work around her unforeseen ferocity.

Thursday, 02/06/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:54 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 4°. The sunset will occur at 5:06.

It was another bitter cold start to the day, and, like yesterday, we did a quick loop for Alice to take care of business, and we came right back inside for our quality time of coffee and quiet contemplation. The girls were especially animated, chasing each other around and onto the bed and then back off the bed, rinse, and repeat for hours. It occurred to me that in approximately 3 weeks, the three of us will have been together like this for an entire year. And in all that time, across all those Seasons, only two things have changed: they don't go to the bathroom in the house anymore, and they've each gained over 90 lbs. Yeah... Beatrice has a few scars, I have a few scars, the floor and a couple of walls and a slipper or two have a few scars, but no greater love can be found than the love that has flourished between the three of us and the joy we each bring to the others because we are together.

Observation of the day:

Those days you spend with the people you love and do nothing are quite often the best of the days you spend together.

Friday, 02/07/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:51 a.m., under mostly cloudy skies, there was a slight breeze, and the temperature was 25°. The sunset will occur at 5:07.

If I were to describe this day with one word, it would be accurate to suggest that it was a whirlwind. Me and Alice woke up to a 25° pre-sunrise morning, warm enough by far to stay on the porch for our coffee session and enjoy the warmer temperatures and Cemetery-quiet roads and highways. She had decided she was tired of waking up at 5:30, wanted a change of pace, and woke me up at 4:15. It's not the sort of thing you can easily refuse when you are woken up with an ear bath and an eye bath and two ginormous front paws working their way on to your chest insisting that you get up and start your day. As true as it is that I'm the one with opposable thumbs, the magnitude of her presence (and over-the-moon enthusiasm for life) ] makes her impossible to ignore. A couple of hours after Emma arrived, Katie (oldest granddaughter) arrived and took me to breakfast. We had a wonderful visit and recharged our "I haven't seen you in forever" batteries to overflowing. I came home, took the girls out, and made it to bed just in time for our regularly scheduled nap. Right after we woke up, Jillian (youngest granddaughter) called to tell me she was on her way to my house as she was getting out of school. We likewise had a wonderful visit... I see Katie less frequently than Jillian, but it's still never enough for any of us, and each of us is better for the time we do get to enjoy with each other. I accomplished none of what I had planned at 4:15 to do over the course of the day, but quality time with my granddaughters? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Observation of the day:

The best-laid plans are worth failing to accomplish if you're in the right company.

Saturday, 02/08/2025:

Sunrise was at 6:50 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 32°. The sunset will occur at 5:08.

Another Saturday, another long list of chores needing to be attended to; during the week, it's damaged control and Shetland pony entertainment, and weekends are committed to putting the place back together in time for the girls to do it all over again on Monday. For me and Alice, the routine is the same 7 days a week- she wakes me up when she's ready for me to be up, we have coffee on the porch (temperatures permitting), and we discuss plans for the day ahead. We nap every afternoon, eat dinner together every evening, and sit together on the porch before bedtime, discussing the day's accomplishments and what things we might tackle the following day. I told her that the week ahead was going to be amazing for her, pointing out that the snowflakes we were enjoying at that moment were just the beginning of what promised to be upwards of 8 inches of snow by the end of Sunday. I promised her, as well, that much of the upcoming week was going to bring us more and more as the days progressed that her and Emma were going to be getting a great deal more Bruce time out on the veranda and that she better rest up because Mother Nature was about to take us on a wild ride.

Observation of the day:

You know Winter is winning you over when you're busting at the seams with excitement over the mess she's about to make in your daily routine, and you can't wait for it to come.

Weekly PostScript:

Punxsutawney Phil made his annual appearance this week in Pennsylvania and told us there would be six more weeks of Winter. This is an amazing annual affair that has been going on since 1887, and despite efforts by the animal rights crowd to bring it to an end, it is an enduring tradition that brings with it an opportunity to gather together on Winter's terms (on her home turf) and celebrate. From a calendar perspective, regardless of whether Phil sees his shadow or not, there will always be six weeks of winter left after he's made his appearance. The good news for me and the girls this year is that because he saw his shadow, there is a better-than-even chance of colder and more snowy weather ahead. I ain't going to lie... When I first decided to undertake this Winter Journal, I was on the fence about whether you can ever really learn to love the winter season. We are only halfway through the season, and I have fallen for her hook, line, and sinker. I never expected that. The secret? Comply with her dress code, and the two of you will get along swimmingly.

Sunday, 01/26/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:06 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 15°. The sunset will occur at 4:51.

Although it was a chilly start to the day, temperatures ended up being in the upper 30s. Me and the girls had some quality time out on the veranda under Bruce's ever-watchful eyes. It is impossible to get your fill watching the sisters terrorize and brutalize each other, never seeming to run out of energy, only to collapse into a tangled pile of arms and legs and Tails up on Beatrice so they can rest up, recharge and do it all over again a few hours later.

Observation of the day:

The brief periods of Winter's relent, before getting back to her bitter cold business, not only gives us a taste of a warmer future not far off, but reminds us to miss no opportunity to savor each moment when it comes.

Monday, 01/27/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:06 a.m., under clear skies, , there was a slight breeze, and the temperature was 21°. The sunset will occur at 4:52.

The day ended up being quite windy, but with temperatures finally breaking into the 40s, it was actually a pretty nice day as midwinter days in the Northeast go. Me and the girls hung out with Bruce for over an hour late in the afternoon and enjoyed an overcast sunset. Our bedtime porch visit quickly reminded us that winter was a long way from over; temperatures had dropped back to freezing, giving the human among us every reason to quit while we were ahead and let Winter take back the night.

Observation of the day:

Those most likely to celebrate rapid change are typically least directly affected by it.

Tuesday, 01/28/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:04 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, there was a light breeze, and the temperature was 32°. The sunset will occur at 4:53.

Me and the girls noticed, over coffee, that once temperatures are in the 30s, pre-Sunrise mornings are actually refreshing and invigorating. Of course, the dogs are built for this weather, and I have to add a few layers to keep it even, but after 8 hours of being inside a heated house, hitting the yard while the streets are still quiet is a damn fine way to start the day. We spent another good hour under Bruce, watching the sunset behind clouds that promised overnight snow ahead, but we were actually quite excited to know a fresh layer of Winter's paint was on its way to bring with it a whole new round of wrestling, roughhousing, and otherwise terrorizing each other while I would have to hold on to them for dear life.

Observation of the day:

A weak shy of halfway through the winter season, knowing all too well what February usually brings to the Northeast, I'm grateful - in advance - that Winter has been generous and kind, comparatively speaking. To say otherwise is to DARE her to work harder.

Wednesday, 01/29/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:03 a.m., under cloudy skies, there was a light breeze, and the temperature was 20°. The sunset will occur at 4:55.

Me and the girls were greeted with about two inches of fresh snow cover when we went out the front door about 2 hours Before Sunrise. As expected, they were quite pleased with this development and took every opportunity to destroy each other in Celebration. The featured image for this week's journal entry shows them in action as they celebrate the beauty and wonder of all of Nature's creation. The winds picked up in the late afternoon as we sat once more under Bruce to enjoy the setting sun, with temperatures still above freezing when it got dark. Convincing the girls it was time to go in was not without its difficulty.

Observation of the day:

The love-hate relationship humans have with Mother Nature's Winter season is a little unfair to Nature and a lot short-sighted among humans; lamenting her temperatures while rolling around and building stuff with her bounty belies are public disdain for her while we are deriving great joy from her work.

Thursday, 01/30/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:02 a.m., under clear skies, with a strong breeze, and the temperature was 16°, making it feel like 2°. The sunset will occur at 4:56.

Winter was back in all her bitter-cold glory as if to remind us who is in charge. I had to go to the store today, and the wind chill temperatures were brutal, even with the clear, sunny skies. Having to take the bus into town and back again always takes up at least 3 hours of the day, so needless to say the girls were incredibly pleased to see me when I got back home. A trip out to the yard for them to burn off a little more Steam was quickly followed by a late but glorious afternoon nap. We got up in plenty of time to watch the sunset together, as we do practically every day, and our bedtime porch visit consisted of discussing the simple beauty of the quiet roads and mesmerizing frigid temperatures.

Observation of the day:

However unnecessarily complicated we Sapiens sometimes make our lives, it can never be overstated to suggest that the simplest things inevitably make them much more worth living.

Friday, 01/31/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:01 a.m., under cloudy skies, with a gentle breeze, and the temperature was 25°. The sunset will occur at 4:57.

It was a calm and easy start to the day. We knew from the forecast that some combination of rain and snow would dictate how much time we spent in the yard, which, as it turned out, we did not do very much of. The girls got a decent amount of grizzly bear dive bombing in, but each session was short-lived, after which we would get up on the porch and watch the world go by. During our pre-bedtime review of the day and potential plans for the next, I pointed out that there is something soft and gentle about the sounds of rain dripping down the gutter while fluffy flakes of snow floated around in the air. It's the sort of ambiance you only find when there are no cars on the road and the world around you is wise enough to stay indoors and leave Winter be so she can attend to her affairs.

Observation of the day:

There is no better way to understand the deafening silence of Winter's embrace than to be quiet and still long enough to hear what she is saying to you.

Saturday, 02/01/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:00 a.m., under snowy skies, with a gentle breeze, and the temperature was 29°. The sunset will occur at 4:58.

Me and the girls were greeted by a fresh new layer of snow when we hit the yard a couple of hours before sunrise. It had continued to rain and snow overnight, but by the time we got out there in the morning, temperatures had fallen below freezing, which gave us a crusty, crunchy surface to work with as the girls tended to their biological affairs. By midday, the winds picked up, bringing with them Sub-Zero wind chill temperatures that made quality yard time a bit challenging to enjoy. By the time we gathered for our daily bedtime confab, temperatures were in the single digits, and the three of us were content with a quick return to the indoors once the canine waste disposal business had been attended to.

Observation of the day:

As it is with human-to-human relationships, it is healthy and productive to engage in brief timeouts from your love affair with Winter to pause and reflect (and thaw your bones) and get some quality "me" time; her feelings won't be hurt, and you will miss her more quickly than you might think.

Weekly PostScript:

As of the date this entry is published, we are effectively halfway through the Winter season in the Northeast. Sunrise comes earlier by a minute or two each day, and sunset comes later by a minute or two each day as well. There have been warm days, cold days, windy days, sunny days, rainy days, and snowy days... Everything you would expect to occur at this time of year. Yet for all of Nature's mood swings, there have been no surprises, and we haven't encountered anything we couldn't handle or find some way to enjoy. Thus far in the journey of assembling this Journal, it appears to be true that forcing yourself outside of your seasonal comfort zone has the effect of teaching you life lessons you might not otherwise have learned.

Sunday, 01/19/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:11 a.m., under mostly clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 31° under a winter storm warning that promised some amount of snow accumulation. The sunset will occur at 4:42.

It was relatively mild for a mid-January day. The sun was warm, and the snowstorm didn't move into the area until late afternoon, so me and Alice had plenty of opportunity for fresh air and outdoor time. Plenty of much-needed housework was accomplished, and we had plenty of opportunity to sit on the porch and be pelted by Frosty little snow crystals as the storm began to move in after dark. Once she was out in the snow, like even the most enthusiastic of young human children, Alice fought tooth and nail to resist coming in the house once I had had enough of the sharp wind. I didn't want to go in either, but there's a fine line between youthful enthusiasm and hypothermic dumbassery.

Observation of the day:

As with many things in life, feelings about inclement weather are relative; where it might be "too much" for the underprepared, there is never enough of it for those seeking to completely immerse themselves in it.

Monday, 01/20/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:10 a.m., under mostly clear skies, winds were just under 20 miles an hour, and the temperature was 14°, making it feel like two below zero. The sunset will occur at 4:43.

It was a typical late January day. Temperatures briefly made it to the low 20s, but it was otherwise in the teens for much of the day. The snow cover provided plenty of opportunity for Alice to get some exercise. She rolled around in it, ate as much of it as she could, jumped up and down, and flailed all around as if it were the greatest moment in her life. In the hours after sunset, the temperature dropped dramatically, down into the single digits, and our last visit to the porch at bedtime was not a lengthy stay; it's an amazing thing to watch a dog built for this sort of weather to be so hypersensitive to the sounds and smells that only her superior senses can detect. With the streets quiet, distant Highway sounds subdued by the intensely cold air, she was "busier" than she had been all day, and I just relaxed and enjoyed watching her snap her head back and forth, look all around, and randomly bark at things that only she even knew was out there in the dark somewhere.

Observation of the day:

Before you convince yourself you have come to appreciate and admire the harsh extremes of short days and frigid temperatures, take pause and observe closely the dynamics of the relationship between your dog and the winter season; we have become far too civilized to appreciate the depth and beauty of the relationship between the animal kingdom (beyond sapiens) and the natural world in which they live and thrive.

Tuesday, 01/21/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:10 a.m., under mostly clear skies and light winds, and the temperature was -2°. The sunset will occur at 4:44.

Today was Emma's first day back with us after having been separated because of my COVID-19 journey to hell and back again. Mostly recovered now, although not yet having fully regained my strength, it was heartwarming to have her back and just enjoy watching the two of them clearly happy to be with each other again after 10 days apart. We spent more time indoors because it was so bitter cold, but the time we did spend together out in the yard as they picked right up where they left off, standing up on their hind legs and dive-bombing each other like two grizzly bears in the woods made the air temperatures seem like an afterthought.

Observation of the day:

The more readily we let go of the need to believe we must always be in control of ourselves and our surroundings, the more quickly we come to appreciate the beauty and wonder of the smallest of things.

Wednesday, 01/22/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:09 a.m., under mostly clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was -7°. The sunset will occur at 4:46.

With just over a week to go before February gets underway, 7° below zero at sunrise is not all that uncommon. Having said that, it does not mean that any real joy can be found in sitting on the porch over coffee with your best friend just to say you did. Me and Alice went out, as we do every morning, so she could attend to her biological needs, but she beat me back to the porch, perfectly content to go right back in. Like me, she had decided coffee in the house was a perfectly acceptable way to start our day. Me and the girls sat on the porch to enjoy the sunset together, temperatures having just barely climbed above 20°, and the three of us agreed it had been wise to choose the indoors as the better venue for the day's activities.

Observation of the day:

It is the wiser man that understands winter always wins, and the prideful one likely to lose fingers and toes trying to prove otherwise.

Thursday, 01/23/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:08 a.m., under cloudy skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 14°. The sunset will occur at 4:47.

Comparatively speaking, today marked the beginning of a stretch of days that will feel like a heatwave. Temperatures will make it well into the twenties and 30s, with plenty of sunshine over the next several days. Emma stayed with us last night for the first of what will be a 10-day sister sleepover. Her humans will be vacationing in Las Vegas, and the three of us plan to do what we always do: romp and wrestle, torture the cats, take plenty of naps, eat like fat kids on Halloween night, and watch the sun rise and set together as the days pass.

Observation of the day:

The greatest of days can sometimes be those in which the least amount of effort is invested in deriving any joy from them.

Friday, 01/24/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:07 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 6°. The sunset will occur at 4:48.

My time on the porch with the girls before sunrise is the first of several "favorite" parts of the day. The roads are quiet, the sidewalks are empty, and the natural world of which we are tiny parts is calm and still. As I remind the girls every morning, stolen from a popular TV series(Stranger Things), "mornings are for coffee and quiet contemplation."My Paperboy, at least 10 years my senior, typically arrives while we are sitting on the porch having coffee together sometime around 6:00 a.m. This morning, there was a replacement driver I had never seen before, and he came to a skidding stop in front of the house, jumped out of the car, and sprinted toward the porch before my brain(and the brains of Alice and Emma) had a chance to process what was going on. Before I understood what was happening, the girls were on their feet barking like crazy people and scared the poor guy half to death as he jumped back, fearing for his poor life. While I appreciate that it might be impolite to laugh at the panic and fear of another, I cannot bring myself to apologize for my inability to control my laughter, trying to choke it down as I explained to the poor guy that the girls were harmless and that he could just throw the paper up on the porch, and that I would bring it inside after he left. It took me a good 10 minutes to stop giggling as I thought about how long it was going to take him to get his heart rate back down once he had gotten back in the car and driven off.

Observation of the day:

While order, routine, and repetition might bring comfort to creatures of habit, don't let these things keep you from relishing those occasions when you are presented with the opportunity to swan dive out of your comfort zone should they arise.

Saturday, 01/25/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:07 a.m., under clear skies, the air was still, and the temperature was 0°. The sunset will occur at 4:49.

Me and the girls split our day between frequent but short stays in the yard and napping on the floor next to me while I caught up on a few writing projects that I had been putting off but really needed to get caught up with. I was woken up at 2:30 a.m. because Alice felt it was a perfectly good time to start the day. I disagreed and told her to go back to bed. Then it was Emma at 3:30 a.m., and then both of them at 4:30, which ultimately convinced me my options had run their course. I assured them there would be a long and early nap in our future while they were tending to their biological affairs, and I kept that promise about 6 hours later. I worked through my to-do list well enough that we were able to share the sunset, after which I had my dinner, and they had theirs. We watched a movie together, took our final trip to the yard and the porch, and ended the day discussing how many things we might be able to get away with not doing when we got up the next morning.

Observation of the day:

While there might be such things as Fast Lanes and Slow Lanes in our sometimes busy and chaotic lives, it is most often the one-lane dirt road that takes us most quickly to serenity and inner peace.

Weekly PostScript:

The subtlety and nuance of Mother Nature, especially during her winter season, are easily overlooked because of the bitterly cold weather extremes and all the ways we change our routines to account for them. The rate at which minutes are added to the beginning and end of the days go by easily unnoticed. Sunrise comes earlier, only a minute or two at a time, while sunset comes later each day by handfuls of minutes. While there may be no subtlety in Sub-Zero wind chills or nuance that comes with one or two minutes more of daylight, perhaps the most extraordinary beauty of Winter's evolution is her defiant unpredictability. There is no small amount of beauty and wonder in that.

As I set out to tell this story, I'm struck by the idea that it started 25 years ago. When it all began, the internet and social media and the dynamics of human interaction couldn't have been more different than they are today. Google's "blogger" was in its infancy, Twitter and Facebook wouldn't begin operations for several more years, and email was just starting to become a"thing" as message boards were in the early days of figuring themselves out.

In '99 or early '00, I came across an up-and-coming National political blog and created an account under the pseudonym Haystack, which I carried with me for many years. The general idea of the format back in those days was such that editors would post content, and readers were allowed to comment on the entries as well as speak amongst themselves in ongoing dialogue about whatever the story might have been associated with. News and blogs don't work that way anymore, more's the pity, but it was a great way for people to connect and interact with each other directly as part of a larger ongoing National conversation.

After about a year or so, I was invited to become a contributing editor, allowing me to post my own content. I quickly found myself interacting with a lot of people from all over the country, and I made a lot of new "friends" that I would otherwise never have crossed paths with if it weren't for the internet. As it is with most good things, it didn't last; management got too far over its skis, and Twitter and Facebook began growing in popularity (and heightened notoriety for so-called "thought" leaders), and management started purging those elements of the readership with whom they had grown tired of debating.

I had known and interacted with "Vassar" and a number of others for a very long time, and after there had been a very large Purge of readership, I offered to build a website for them where they could continue telling their stories and maintaining their own community. Not long after that project began, I resigned from the larger website and went to work helping those guys get up on their own two feet, so to speak. In that window of time, Vassar asked me to build a website where he could put all of his writings in one place, and vassarbushmills.com was born.

As I write this, reviewing his entire body of work, I'm wearing a self-satisfied smile as I report here that he has written nearly 2,000 entries (well more than half of which are between 2000 and 7000 words) since the spring of 2011 and has written just as much, if not more, over at the website (now archived) where all of this began. It is a true Testament to the man's persistence and tenacity, along with just how much he has had to say over the course of his now-80 rich and well-lived years.

Now that I am at just under 500 words, this is where the story of our unlikely Boomer bromance begins.

Vassar and I stayed in touch by email between 2008 and 2018. I maintained his website, we collaborated from time to time on essays, cross-posted each other's work on our respective websites, and otherwise did our own thing. We shared each other's life stories and learned we were both descended from Appalachian people: him from Kentucky coal miners and me from Pig farmers in and around the Harpers Ferry end of Maryland and West Virginia.

Thirteen years my senior, he had already gotten his law degree and served as a Jag during the Vietnam War by the time I was 10. Despite both of us being "boomers," he was from the early half of the generation, and I came from the latter half, and even though we couldn't have been more different socially and culturally, our shared experience being raised in God Centric Church going Backwoods country people allowed us to share identical World Views.

Inspired by my oldest granddaughter in 2017, I decided to start a little side project, taking a closer look at the world of wisdom and philosophy. I set up a website (Unwashed Philosophy) and started doing precisely that. It wasn't long before I invited Vassar, given his range of writing on the subjects of Natural Law, History, and "How Things Work," to join in wherever he might think he'd like to contribute to the project.

At the start of 2019, I told Vassar I wanted to write a book. Having survived my third stroke and engineering a series of workarounds to be able to read and write despite my visual losses, I told him I intended to do a nonfiction about how America came to be, a commentary on the mess we had made of the country in the days after the founding, and some discussion about what I thought we needed to do to make things better before it was too late.

He didn't tell me he hated it, so when I asked him if he would partner with me, taking on some of the chapters I thought best suited his talents and interests, he accepted and, over the course of the subsequent nearly 6 years, we have remained in Daily contact by email and weekly 2-hour phone calls that have become akin to little old lady bitch sessions sitting around and knitting circle.

We went on to publish that first book in time to be in circulation before the 2020 presidential election. We got the band back together to write a follow-up collection of essays after Joe Biden's first hundred days. In time for the run-up to the 2024 elections, with weekly consult from Vassar, I wrote and published what is equivalently Thomas Paine's Common Sense Rebooted into modern-day context as it relates to the tug of war between globalism and the sovereignty of the "some several independent democratic nations."

Our weekly phone calls continued through the Christmas and New Year's seasons of 2024 into 2025. In the fall of 2024, Vassar was hospitalized with pneumonia, and I spoke with him by telephone... Or should I say listen to him muttering and complaining... About having to be in the hospital when he felt perfectly fine and just wanted to go the hell home where he could get some "peace and quiet." Laughing with him by telephone, encouraging him to let these caregivers do their jobs in peace, he promised to behave and was sent home a few days later.

None of us could have known at the time just how much of a toll the pneumonia ultimately had on his body, despite the pulmonary therapy he received after he got home from the hospital. He responded very well, initially, to the treatment, but the pace of his decline began to quicken dramatically not long after his 80th birthday, and - in what feels like the blink of an eye - my mentor, best friend, and confidant of two and a half decades finds himself receiving in-home hospice Healthcare as the final stages of dementia and Alzheimer's work their way through his body and his mind until he is called back home to his maker.

Over all the years that we have been friends, the two of us only met in person once. A group of us met in Pennsylvania to discuss the plans for launching that website I mentioned earlier, and across all of the years that have transpired since, our friendship and mutual respect remained steadfast as the world came and went around us. Even now, speaking with his wonderful wife weekly because he is no longer communicative, she provides me with the gift of holding on to the connection while I give her the opportunity to know her husband as the internet knew him and all the things he taught us and all the lives he touched and made a little better along the way.

If my friend Vassar could read what I've written here, let me assure you that he would first read me the Riot Act for all the things I left out (as wordy as I am known to be, I got nothin' on this guy), and then he would bitch at me - again - for being terrible itself promotion by leaving out all the things about the two and a half books we wrote together that people should be reminded of. And for as long as the good Lord keeps Vassar with us, I will continue to hear his voice in my ear as it gives me the what for about something I could have said differently or should have added to whatever story I'm working on when he sneaks into my head and cuffs me behind the ear.

In the poem "To a Mouse" by Robert Burns (1785), we find the origins of the expression "best-laid plans of mice and men." The human apology to a fellow mortal who just happens to be a mouse is heartwarming, something we don't see much in the modern world anymore, but it is nonetheless touching. I mentioned it here at the beginning of this journal entry to explain my absence and the disruption to what had just settled in quite nicely as my "protocol" for how I intended this series to unfold: COVID-19 decided to make me change my plans.

Initially intended for publication last Sunday (Jan. 12, 2025), it would have consisted of entries covering the period between January 5th and January 11th, 2025, but those so-called"best-laid plans" were thrown out the window on the 9th. Now, if you've never had this gift that keeps on giving called COVID-19, consider yourself fortunate, but if you have visited the COVID-19 circles of hell or had them visited upon you, you can appreciate just how little anything matters but surviving and that there was no way I wasn't going to get kicked out of everything I had planned. It would be easy enough to moan, groan, whine, and complain, but it would also be redundant; if you've had it, there's nothing new I can tell you that you don't already know, and if you haven't... You just wouldn't understand. I could bitch about having now had it twice even though I live a solitary reclusive life, but it's just not a good look for me, and I choose to just dust my ass off and get back on the horse, clean up after myself, and ride on. What follows is an abridged version of the Hibernal Journal, Weeks 3 & 4 (Jan. 5 thru 18.

Sunrise on the 5th was 7:12 a.m. and has not changed for 2 weeks. Sunset, however, changed from 4:26 on the 5th to 4:40 p.m. on the 18th, adding 14 precious minutes of sunlight to each day.

Week 3:

Sunday was the warmest day of the week, with temperatures reaching the low 20s. As the week progressed, Winter dug in her heels, gifting us with high winds that made it feel near 0°. The full range of "crazy cold," "stupid cold," and "AYFKM? cold" (my personal fave) was thrown at us, and reasonable people would have just stayed indoors and waited out the winter until spring. Me and the girls are not reasonable people. We went outdoors for the same amount of time as we always do, split between the two of them wrestling on their hindquarters like wild bears in the wilderness and the three of us hanging out on the porch basking in the winter sun. It's worth noting that Newfoundlands have double coats, whereas humans do not, and if it weren't for double Arctic long johns under quilted long johns, this endeavor would have been relegated to watching winter through a window. As much as I might complain about them, I have to give props to A-zon for keeping me alive and protecting my digits from frostbite so I could even attempt this hibernal journal endeavor.

Observations of the week:

If we are honest with ourselves, the courting phase of any budding love affair, winter in this case, is but an anesthetic to dull the pain that follows your commitment to the effort to make it work. While it is true that she can be harsh, bitter cold, and unforgiving, it is impossible to escape loving the depth and breadth of the range of colors on Winter's Palette, for these things are truly breathtaking. Winter weather in the Northeast, while challenging to appreciate at times, offers the single greatest opportunity to discover the depths of your tenacity; life is not meant to be easy, and if we never challenge ourselves to go beyond our presumed limits, we can never look over our shoulders to appreciate all the challenges we overcame.

Week 4:

As it was in the bad old days of the pandemic era, I was relegated to "shelter in place" status, which, for me, was just another day in my life as a Hermit. Between the shivers and the sweats, the complete lack of appetite, or even the slightest hint of Senses of taste or smell, Alice and I were effectively bedridden from the previous Thursday all the way up until Saturday morning (January 18th). Emma was kept home, primarily to prevent her humans from Catching my plague, and Alice and I went outside three or four times per day so she could attend to her business and I could breathe in fresh air rather than the sickness air that always pervades the smell of your home when you're locked inside behind closed windows and doors breathing recirculated death air. Independent of my recovery status on any given day, disregarding my complete lack of energy, strength, or stamina, I dragged the two of us down to the porch for sunset every afternoon/ evening. Staying committed to the plan of being up close and personal with winter on her terms, I made myself appreciate the beauty and wonder of sunsetting Skies and Moon Rising Stars, and while it might not have cured my illness, it surely lightened my spirits. The featured image I have selected for this entry was one such inspirational moment during week 4; the first New Moon Rising in the winter sky just happened to be positioned directly above a chimney across the street from my house, and its curious position at the top of a chimney was too good to pass up.

Observations of the week:

A Fresh coat of white paint was applied to my neighborhood at the close of calendar week number three. Week number four will likewise bring a newer, forecasted to be much thicker, coat of the fluffy stuff and will mark the return of my temporarily interrupted protocol for these journal entries. I'm fondly reminded of the expression "never disappoints" as it relates to Winter because she truly never does; Winter does what she always does, year in and year out ad infinitum, and the only way we can be disappointed by her is rooted in the idea that we could have ever expected anything different from her then she has been giving us for millions of years.

Sunday, 12/29/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:17 a.m., the skies were completely obscured by a dense and heavy fog, the air was still, and the temperature was 34°. The sunset will occur at 4:19.

It was quite an interesting weather day; there was so much moisture in the air that it felt like me and Alice were sitting in a 40° sauna. It was supposed to rain, according to the forecast, but all of the moisture on the ground and the streets and sidewalks seemed to be more the result of the cloud cover leaking water droplets. The two of us went out on the porch a number of times, across the span of several hours, but the ground was too soggy to hang out with Bruce... I simply wasn't feeling the whole mud tracking through the house mess had we decided to go that route. A casual Observer might suggest that Mother Nature was in a foul mood. Still, we decided to take the high road and imagine she was in a perfectly fine mood and chose the"kinder, gentler"method to moisturize the winter-hardy perennials as well as softening up the soil for the birds and the mammals still bold enough to forage while the opportunity had presented itself.

Observation of the day: Mood swings, and emotional roller coaster rides, are not the products of humankind rather they are the result of what got us here.

Monday, 12/30/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:18 a.m., under a steady rain with no breeze, and the temperature was 47°. The sunset will occur at 4:20.

Beyond the steps of the front porch, a steady rain is a deal breaker for any serious amount of outdoor activity. Me and Alice decided (especially because Emma was still at home on Christmas break with her nights and weekends family) that it was a perfectly good day to do some overdue house cleaning and a few interior design changes. We got quite a bit more accomplished than I had originally expected. After a late (and glorious) nap, we were able to sit together on the porch and share a sunset under partly cloudy skies with a light enough breeze that Mother Nature could sing to us through the wind chimes as we basked in the glow of an incredibly atypical warm temperature hovering beautifully around 55°.

Observation of the day: The secret to a loving relationship with Nature lies not in what you prepare yourself to expect from her; rather, it can be found in all the things she gives you that you are so sure she'd never do.

Tuesday, 12/31/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:17 a.m., the skies were clear, there was a gentle breeze, and the temperature was 34°. The sunset will occur at 4:20.

Emma joined us today, which me and Alice had not planned for, but with temperatures expected to be in the 40s, with lots of sun, we just rolled with it and spent the last day of 2024 doing what we always do: A whole lot of everything and nothing; they played, I wrote. At roughly mid-morning, we had another surprise when my son, his girl, and their two kids came to visit for a couple of hours, giving Alice and Emma some playtime (and human chew toys other than yours truly) to burn off a little energy. The humans took me to lunch, and we left the girls behind... Taking two 100 lb puppies to an eat in restaurant isn't allowed in most places, although for the life of me I can't imagine why. They brought me back home in time for me and the girls to stay mostly on schedule with our daily nap routine, and when we got up I took them out to the veranda so they could terrorize and torture each other under Bruce's ever-watchful eye until sunset, after which Emma got picked up and taken home.

Observation of the day: The best part about nature, winter in particular, is that you can run and hide from her, blaming your absence from her on any number of human excuses all you want, but no matter where you go, she's still right there waiting for you.

Wednesday, 01/01/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:17 a.m., under a steady rain, with a light breeze, and the temperature was 42°. The sunset will occur at 4:22.

Being the first day of a new year, and the forecast promising another rainy day, Alice and I enjoyed a gloriously peaceful and quiet start to the new year on the porch over coffee, with the only sound being the wind chimes, the steady beat of raindrops on the metal tub next to us on the ground, and my voice; there were no cars, no sirens, no helicopters flying overhead, and it felt a little like we were the only living creatures on the planet. The weather promised us another indoor activity day that we filled with more cleaning, rearranging, and organizing our shared living space. We took an amazing nap... The two of us curled up together on Beatrice with Georgie in tow, and did what all self-respecting Hermits would do on a day like this- only what we wanted to, and only for as long as it took to finish without breaking a sweat.

Observation of the day: Jammies, slippers, grilled cheese sandwiches, and tomato soup are, I'm as sure as I can be, the four best things about being alive.

Thursday, 01/02/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:18 a.m., under a mix of clouds and sun, air temperature was in the low 30s, with a wind advisory promising gusts up to 30 mph. Sunset will occur at 4:23.

It was not only ridiculously cold (because it was so windy I almost got blown over quite a few times), it was also Bank day which required my having to go out and mingle with Humanity. I left the house in a decent enough mood, albeit put out by the combination of cold air and incredibly strong winds, but I am more than sufficiently equipped with the necessary attire to contend with these conditions. I made it through the bank part of the trip without difficulty, enjoyed a meal in solitude in a quiet corner of my favorite coffee shop, and grabbed a few items at the local grocery store before making it back home relatively unscathed and just in time to cuddle up with the girls for the midday nap. When we woke up, I saw that my computer screen was dark and, assuming there had been a power glitch because of the wind, I didn't bother sitting down to restart the system until after sunset when Emma went home. Much to my dismay I discovered that my monitor had not just turned itself off, it had finally taken its final Swan dive off this Mortal coil and left behind a panicked half-blind hermit frantically scrambling to figure out how in the bloody hell I was going to continue my efforts on this hibernal journal Journey I have just barely started putting together. I ultimately figured out how to proceed and get back on track, but decided getting into bed on time was more important (it was cold in this drafty old house and I wanted to get under the blankies) so I will pick up the story in the morning.

Observation of the day: Bad days come to us all; before we begin a temper tantrum, throwing things against the wall and stomping our feet like 2-year-olds, the wisest among us understand thatit is important to look around and make sure no one sees you doing it.

Friday, 01/03/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:17 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, with moderate winds and air temperatures at 24°, making it feel like 10°. Sunset will occur at 4:24.

Alice and Emma entertained each other while I worked on transitioning my office equipment from my desk to a surface next to my big-screen TV, where I was able to connect my computer and pick up the pieces from the wind damage that wreaked havoc on my setup for being able to dictate into a microphone, highlight the text, and listen back in my headphones so I can continue doing the voodoo that I do. Being as cold as it was, we continued our routine of going out multiple times for shorter stretches that allowed them to wrestle with each other and burn off some steam before scrambling back inside, where they could power nap, and I could continue scratching my way back to productivity. Like we had done on Thursday, we sat together and watched the sunset, all three of us, and waited for Emma's human to come pick her up for the weekend. Me and Alice started binge-watching a new movie series, I did a little more work recovering the journal commentary, and we called it a day later than normal but ready to go first thing in the morning, finishing up the work on this week's collection of entries.

Observation of the day: A restless mind makes for a strange bedfellow.

Saturday, 01/04/2025:

Sunrise was at 7:18 a.m., under partly cloudy skies, with continued strong winds and air temperatures at 31°, resulting in a wind chill of 10°. Sunset will occur at 4:24.

The winds calmed down as the day progressed, but temperatures never made it out of the twenties. Me and Alice continued our progress with indoor affairs, but we had plenty of time and opportunity to sit with the wind chimes and enjoy what little warmth there was during our rest breaks, getting some fresh air. With the help of a bit of duct tape and some baling twine, I successfully stood up the temporary office so I could finish this week's journal entry on time. The featured image for this week's release is a picture I took of the First new moon of 2025. Mother Nature, in all her winter glory, even with the roller coaster ride of weather conditions she threw at us this week, never feels to inspire. The deep blue sky she gave us just after sunset, as the moon and North Star were hot on the heels of the sun, froze me in place, figuratively and literally.

Observation of the day: The more time you spend with Mother Nature, and her winter season of death and rebirth, the more obvious it becomes that it's all the things you can't see that truly give you vision.

Weekly PostScript:

The weather was all over the map this week, and when it hit the 50s, I was tempted to think I picked the one year that the winter in the Northeast would be breaking records for being one of the mildest in recent history. Sustained winds, coupled with temperatures that dug their heels in somewhere around the low to mid-20s, very quickly disabuse me of that notion.

If Mother Nature could speak English, I'm pretty sure she would tell me she had only given me the 50s, so I would get cocky just long enough for her to slap me in the forehead with a reality check. The forecast for the coming week tells us there will be record-cold temperatures in large swaths of the northern half of the US.

It occurs to me that this is the only English she needs to speak, and it's on me to listen; this Journal is intended to meet winter on her terms, find the beauty and wonder of the season of death and rebirth, and learn to love and appreciate her work. Given the forecast ahead, I get the feeling she's just getting started.

Sunday, 12/22/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:14 a.m., the skies were clear, and the air temperature was 1° with a wind chill that made it feel like 11 below. The sunset will occur at 4:15.

Emma spent the night- sister sleepover- and we went out before Sun up, but it was too cold to stick around for Sunrise, so we scrambled back in and had coffee in the office. We went back out at 10:00, but it was still too cold, and 5 minutes of horseplay later, we were back inside.

Observation of the day: Sometimes, the beauty and wonder of Nature's creations can be just as well appreciated through a window every bit as much as when you are outside being cloaked in her shroud of intemperance.

Monday, 12/23/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:16 a.m., the skies were clear, and the air temperature was 3° with a wind chill that made it feel like two below. The sunset will occur at 4:15.

Emma spent the night again last night; morning routines don't change with her here, but they are certainly more lively. On a normal day, Alice and the cats eat breakfast together, but when Emma is here, I feed the cats in the kitchen and the canines in the office. As the day progressed, temperatures climbing to the low 20s by the afternoon, I gave the girls some "yard time" in their play area where they were tied to 30 ft long plastic coated Steel cables under the now naked Bruce (the Magnificent maple tree that towers over the homemade veranda). The three of us, under the watchful eye of Bruce, spent a good hour out there as I watched the girls do what puppy sisters do, which is to say I watched 200 lb wild bears standing up on two legs pounding into each other until they completely drained all of that built up energy from having been relegated to indoor play over the two days prior.

Observation of the day: It's fascinating that even brief moments of warmth from the Sun, independent of the air temperature, seem to animate the body and recharge the spiritual batteries; the dogs were as excited as I was, and this suggests every other form of life is as well.

Tuesday, 12/24/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:15 a.m., it was snowing, and the air temperature was 22° with a light breeze that made it feel like 20°. The sunset will occur at 4:16.

As the Sun was breaching the horizon, big snowflakes started falling and quickly covered the streets. It stopped snowing sometime around 9:00 a.m. But Mother Nature's Fresh coat of white paint was just enough to get Alice and Emma rolling in it, eating it, and dive-bombing each other on top of it. The skies were clear by sunset, but the air temperatures allowed the snow to survive the day and give the girls endless Joy. Watching them reminded me of the Endless Joy snow gave me as a child, and it warmed my heart to dwell, briefly and vicariously, in their enthusiasm.

Observation of the day: While it might be necessary to put your childish ways behind you as you age, no better life can be lived than the one that sneaks pieces of it into adulthood from time to time.

Wednesday, 12/25/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:16 a.m., the skies were clear, and the air temperature was 12° with no wind. The sunset will occur at 4:16.

Alice and I were on the porch 2 hours before Sunrise. Being Christmas morning, it wasn't the cold air that slapped us in the face when we opened the front door; it was the complete silence. No one was on the road, no distant highway was humming, and the only thing we could hear was the air exhaust system on the hospital's roof three blocks to the north. While the expression "deafening silence" might be a bit long in the tooth, it nonetheless perfectly describes what shared our space with us, this morning over coffee. When coffee was done I left Alice behind and did breakfast and presents over at Emma's house, bringing Emma with me for another sleepover while her humans did their Christmas traveling for Christmas dinner at the in-laws. With the band back together for a reunion tour, there was fun and frivolity under Bruce out on the veranda to spend the remainder of the day doing what we always do: Livin', lovin', thrillin', and chillin'.

Observation of the day: Life in the fast lane, especially during the holiday season, is vastly overrated; the simplest of Hermit pleasures make for the warmest and most fulfilling life.

Thursday, 12/26/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:16 a.m., the skies were clear, the air was still, and the air temperature was 13° . The sunset will occur at 4:17.

Me and the girls (Emma stayed the night again) were on the porch before 6:00, and sadly, the icy-aired silence had been replaced once more with the hums of highways filled with people hastily moving past the holiday. Worthy of note is how much less cold it feels the longer you spend time outdoors hangin' out with Mother Nature on her terms. While it might have been a shock to the system when the first frost fell in October, the formation of ice crystals on the mustache and beard while talking through plans for the day with the girls now feels exactly like the right way to start the day.

Observation of the day: The longer you let Nature's Winter do all the talking, the easier it becomes to recognize the relative insignificance of your role in her work.

Friday, 12/27/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:16 a.m., the skies were clear, the temperature was 12°, and the air was still. The sunset will occur at 4:18.

Temperatures did not make it into the twenties until afternoon, so I took advantage of the opportunity to do a little housework, squeeze in the midday nap, and then head to the park with Alice mid-afternoon. Compared to temperatures earlier in the week, it was a veritable heat wave; the Sun was shining, the skies were mostly clear, and the park was relatively empty, which gave us plenty of time to do a couple of laps around and let Alice flush out the sparrows hiding in the bushes. We had not been to the park for quite a while, but she picked up where she had left off the last time we were there and had the time of her life. We sat quietly in awe for a long while, watching the Sun slowly make its way down to the horizon and the picture I took as I watched her, mesmerized until the sun was almost down.

Observation of the day: You know you are doing it right when nobody wants to call it a day and go home.

Saturday, 12/28/2024:

Sunrise was at 7:17 a.m., the skies were cloudy, and the air temperature was 26° with no wind. The sunset will occur at 4:19.

Me and Alice had big plans to spend some more time at the park, making the mistake of believing the weather man about the forecast suggesting there would be no rain until Sunday. He lied. He had the forecasted temperatures right, though, promising a high around 40°- quite a divergence from the Sub-Zero temperatures at the beginning of this week. Winter has made it abundantly clear that flexibility is imperative for survival, and if she's taught us nothing else about herself during this week of class, learning how to put our arms around her and pull her in close so we can understand and love her for all she provides to the subsequent seasons is going to require a great deal of humility if we want to pass this class.

Observation of the day: Dark gray skies and air warm enough to melt the snow cover might feel dreary and depressing, but the worms and the birds who winter over would strongly disagree.

Weekly PostScript:

As the first week of this journal unfolded, I determined to increase the amount of time we are outdoors during daylight hours; while it is true that the Sun was only up for approximately 9 hours each of the days this first week, me and the girls were outside nearly a third of that time across the span of the day (Sub-Zero wind chills notwithstanding). I think it would be cheating to include pre-dawn and post-sunset time spent on the front porch, and I will keep track of this time as the season progresses- nature is, after all, doing her thing every bit as much in the daylight as she is after dark.

On Sat, Dec 21, 2024, at 4:21 AM, the winter solstice occurred in the northern hemisphere. Alice and I rolled out of bed about 40 minutes later and ran(okay, that's a lie... No running is allowed before coffee) to make our way out into the yard as quickly as we could. Like two kids scrambling to get to the Christmas tree first, we were greeted with the greatest gift from nature we could hope for to start off the winter season: a fresh layer of snow had been left for us to appreciate and enjoy, and be reminded that there is an endless abundance of beauty and wonder in all of Nature's creations, if one is willing to embrace them with a positive perspective.

The temperatures were in the low 20s Fahrenheit, the skies were cloudy, and there was but a whisper of a breeze, just enough to move the wind chimes around ever so softly, contrasting with the otherwise silent Street several feet away. We had our morning coffee, as we do every day, and made plans to come back outside a little more than 2 hours later to share the Sunrise's first kiss on the mouth of the fledgling hibernal season. The local forecast promised a high of 27 and a low of 8°, which is to say that Winter is back, and she ain't gonna be messin' around.

To properly set the tone for the series that begins with this essay, I think it's important to start with some background information about the least popular but most awe-inspiring season of the year. The Google AI Bot tells us that " The "hibernal solstice" is another term for the "winter solstice," which is the day with the shortest period of daylight and longest night of the year, occurring when the Earth's axis is tilted furthest away from the sun; essentially marking the start of winter in the Northern Hemisphere."

If you dig a little deeper, you will discover that there is a rich history of celebrations that have taken place to commemorate the shortest day of the year. Once more, from our AI bot, we are told these rituals and celebrations go back as far as the Neolithic Age (10000 BC) at places such as Newgrange, Ireland, Stonehenge, Iran, Scandinavia, and Peru, to name a few. Further, "Cultures around the world have long celebrated the winter solstice with feasts and holidays, and fire and light are traditional symbols."

It's instructive to consider just how much appreciation we have lost by civilizing our species, spoiling ourselves with boots, hats, gloves, mittens, and heavy coats... And heated living spaces with windows and doors, along with heated motorized vehicles such as we have, that we have taught ourselves to piss and moan and complain about winter and cold weather that we have come to consider our disdain for winter to be normal. I don't judge, however, because I am no different, or at least I wasn't until I decided to flip my opinion of winter seasons around into one of respect and appreciation.

Our ancestors honored the winter solstice "as a representation of new beginnings as people welcome in the next season." They understood that each new day ahead would see more daylight than the day before, that the days would be getting longer, and that the Sun would provide more warmth, giving them hope and new things to look forward to. I suggest we could learn a thing or two from our ancestors that we have allowed ourselves to forget over the Millennia since those earliest days. The Hibernal Journal, intending to see the glass is half full rather than half empty, starts off today with the greatest appreciation of knowing that each of the 90 days before the vernal equinox will be spent loving on the season long- underappreciated but, by its very nature, designed to offer hope and promise for incredible days yet ahead.

One year ago today, these two young ladies took their first breaths somewhere in upstate New York. Two and a half months later, they came into my life, and there is not one single microscopic thing that has not been flipped upside down, spun around in dizzying circles, and completely undone in my life as I knew it before they arrived if you don't know how this all started, this is a good first place to go to appreciate everything that follows in this entry.

The first thing to point out is that this picture has not been modified, photoshopped, or edited in any way... But, as your rearview mirror warns you, they are larger than they appear.

My frequently mentioned friend for life and adopted baby sister stopped by for a quick visit and brief exchange of Christmas gifts, intending to take advantage of an opportunity for her to meet the girls in person for the first time. She's had plenty of pictures and video clips sent to her, but it was her first face-to-face and, as it is with everyone else who meets them for the first time, she was quick to point out that photos and video clips do not do justice to how ginormous these dogs are. She simply had to take a picture, and I asked her to wait until I could sit between them before she could finally capture what I had used as the featured image for this entry.

Looking at this picture now, as I write this, I'm struck by how much bigger they appear compared to my physical size. It's a little misleading because I'm sitting behind and between them, so I'm a foot or two deeper in the background. Still... These dogs are fucking huge compared to what they looked like the day we first met. What strikes me most of all, knowing that Newfoundlands aren't considered full-grown until they reach the age of two, is that I'm only halfway toward the end goal of them being fully grown. Each is already about 100 lb, and they are statistically 30 to 50 lb short of where they will be a year from now. Only a lover of giant Molasser breeds can fully appreciate what a beautiful and glorious reality that is.

Readers who have been with me for a while are all too excruciatingly painfully aware of what I went through back in October of 2023 when I lost what I considered my canine soulmate, Daisy after she lost her fight with cancer.

The ensuing 4 months, sure as I could be that I could never have another dog in my life because I didn't have the strength to endure that pain ever again, were filled with an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss that every pet owner - of any species or breed - knows all too well. I wrote at the time that the absence of her was everywhere I looked, and I simply did not want to ever go through that again... I felt as if I couldn't muster the strength or the courage even to consider trying. But, in early February 2024, my daughter sent me a text demanding that I drop everything I was doing and click on a link she sent me, and all of that changed.

It has been 10 months (and 90 lb each) since this picture was taken, and everything I own has been destroyed. Reflecting on the time since that day we first met, as I work my way to the close of this birthday celebration with my girls Alice and Emma, I realize that the gaping hole in my chest hasn't been simply filled once more; it is bursting at the seams and overflowing with a level of love, respect, admiration, and - most of all - gratitude for being honored with the gift of having to be responsible for these two magnificent creatures.

I published a poem roughly 3 months ago, unashamedly admitting that I suck at poetry, in which I pointed out the journey of Chaos and mayhem that these ladies brought with them as they came in, and took over, the life I thought I had been relegated to living. It's worth a read. If for no other reason than understanding how far these two have taken me down the happier path of a fulfilling and satisfying life, I think it would be worth a quick read.

Sitting on the porch this morning, talking over coffee with Miss Alice as I have done since she took over my life (singing her the Happy Birthday song with my made to be used only in the shower voice), I realized that my relationship with the girls makes me the thorn between two roses rather than the rose between two thorns. I chuckled, each of us engaged in direct eye contact as I pointed out that my life purpose is to pay all the bills so they can allow me to share space in what is effectively their house.

They let me sit in the desk chair, they let me use the computer, and they even let me sleep on my bed, although they much prefer it when I lay with them on the floor. They let me refuse them human food only so long as I make sure they get their puppy food and albacore tuna first. They do not let me out of their sight. They do not like it when I leave the house without them. They have reluctantly accepted the presence of two cats only so long as I keep my scolding of them when they chase after the cats to a dull roar. And I'm pretty sure their two favorite things are when I bark at them like a dog and roll around on the ground and wrestle with them - especially in the snow - and make no fuss about waking me up when they've decided I have slept long enough. And you know what?

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy birthday, Alice and Emma, and buckle up, ladies... We are just barely getting started!

[Author's note: I have been publishing some version of this since the holiday season of 2009. This year's entry is the 15th anniversary, and despite all the reasons I might have invented to stop doing this over the years, I find myself only more sure than ever that this is precisely what I should be doing. The world was a dramatically different place back then, but unfortunately, the ways in which we treat our brothers and sisters have only gotten harsher and more cold. Accordingly, this essay has been nuanced over the years to stay aligned with current events. The message it intends to convey, however, is timeless.]

This year, 2024, the world is especially troubled. The election season that is finally behind us has been one of the most divisive and rancorous in recent memory, and the rhetoric hurled by each side has made it clear that few people have any serious interest in coming together as a nation and a people.

While the COVID-19 pandemic might finally be behind us, and associated worldwide hysteria has finally backed away from the cliff's edge, distrust in government officials has skyrocketed. As we continue finding out more about the extent to which lockdowns, school and business closures, and large-scale firings of those unwilling to comply with mandates, we are learning that governmental usurpations of our rights were illegal and served only to give our leaders more power while accomplishing very little to keep the citizens healthy and safe.

While we were busying ourselves with the challenges of COVID-19, allocating more resources than we even had at our disposal, three entirely different pandemic storms were simultaneously forming all around the world; violence, addiction, and homelessness. One of these problems is excruciatingly difficult to solve, but trying to contend with all three at the same time, made more or less impossible with the added layer of planet-wide Mass migration on a scale never before seen, is bringing the global population to its knees.

Our species is wired to collaborate, cooperate, and commune with each other in pursuit of the shared interest of our mutual survival. Unfortunately, our world is currently drowning in crime and violence amongst and between each other at such stunningly high rates, with unspeakable levels of hatred, anger, and vitriol, that it is a wonder we have not already driven ourselves over the cliff of extinction and wiped our species from the face of the Earth. We can do better than this. The human race can do better than this, and we owe it to ourselves and our subsequent Generations to start turning things around before it's too late.

As the 2024 holiday season kicks into high gear and brings with it the onset of family traditions, it's a good time to pause and reflect and remind ourselves, for just a moment, what the point of all this "stuff" really is or at least what is intended to be gained or realized or enjoyed as you go about your particular traditions for celebrating it.

No matter where you go or what you do, at this time of year, you cannot avoid the marketing and advertising "blitzkrieg" that has transformed the Christmas season into some horribly disfigured mutation of the original point of the holiday. Thanks in large part to the political correctness movement and this idea that public displays of religion and faith, most especially Christian religion and faith (this year, sadly having to add Jewish religion and faith to that list), are now considered offensive to the smaller numbers of non-believers demanding that these things should be constrained or removed from public purview altogether. Yet, as this unwinnable cultural Civil War rages on, there are vast numbers of innocent bystanders out there around the world silently suffering through a sense of sadness or anguish or heartbreak or loss that those cultural Civil warriors could scarcely comprehend, let alone personally endure or overcome.

Each of us – from every faith and lack thereof – would be well-served by the reminder that, for some, the Christmas holiday season is not necessarily a happy or joyous time of year. It should inspire you to pause long enough to see beyond the gadgets and baubles and trinkets and consider the lives and circumstances of our less fortunate brothers and sisters around the world. It should encourage you, as well, to be just a little more humble, a little more generous, and a whole lot more kind… not just to your friends, families, and loved ones, but to the nameless and unfamiliar faces of “your tired, your poor, your huddled masses” that you encounter as you walk freely about the cabins of your everyday lives.

While many of us are busy with family and friends, parties, school vacations, festivals, parades, shopping malls, and fancy-wrapped packages, there are far too many among us who are barely holding on by a tattered and unraveling thread. For some, this is perhaps the worst time of the year. Overwhelming feelings of isolation, sadness, and devastating loss can be renewed or heightened.

Also, this time of year can deepen feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, and despair. Many are without family, friends, or loved ones to share the season with. Some have been abandoned, forgotten, or pushed aside. Some have chosen to give up on the world altogether, giving up on themselves and everything they once were.

This year, people are huddled in a cardboard box under a bridge or curled up in a dark alley far away from anyone they have ever known, loved, or cared about. There are people, too, sitting in a dark room somewhere, staring at the pistol in their hands and thinking about their future—and wondering just how much more of it they can bear to envision.

There are brothers and sisters out there who, having lost their jobs or their homes (or both), find themselves angry and bitter and resentful of a God or a Government or a peer or a loved one who could have helped make a difference in their lives that chose not to.

It is during this season, under the banner of "faith, fellowship, peace on earth, and goodwill toward men, that I encourage you to keep whoever fits any of these descriptions in your own life, especially close in your thoughts and prayers as you move through your own Holiday season traditions. I also encourage you to look beyond your own lives... if only for a few moments... and consider reaching out and connecting to some of the random strangers you encounter over the days and weeks ahead. A smile, a warm wish, a handshake... even a kind and simple gesture... might just save someone's life or completely turn it around and point toward a new and better path.

Christmas is meant to be a time of reverence and remembrance and showing goodwill toward men. It is meant to be a celebration of life, a renewal of faith and fellowship, and an expression of love and generosity toward others. It’s not about trees and sleighs and stringed popcorn. It’s not about Target and Macy’s and festivals of lights. And it most certainly is not about diamonds and baubles and ordering online.

As Christ’s birthday passes and the dawn of the new year celebration breaks, helping a loved one, or even a total stranger, or even an estranged or forgotten friend or family member to get through another day should be at the very top of the list of “resolutions” you will NOT break as you stride happily forward into the new year.

I did not plagiarize from the play or the movie "On Golden Pond" because there is no such thing as a Golden Pond in New Hampshire. The movie was primarily filmed at various locations on Squam Lake (which does exist), located about an hour and a half north of where this story took place. If you have been following along with my recent entries, what follows should start to connect a few dots, and maybe, just maybe, you will start to understand- by the time you're done reading this one- what any of this has to do with where I'm heading next with my storytelling over the period between the hibernal equinox and the first day of spring, a little over 90 days later.

When my first wife and I separated, I landed at my brother's front door. It would take a few days, but he knew of just the right place for me to stay longer term so I could have some time to myself to sort things out and get my shit together. He told me about a place a very close friend of his own that was right on a little pond that just happened to be available for rent and might be exactly what the doctor ordered. I knew his friend pretty well; they had been very close for a great many years, and I was well aware of his "eccentricities," so I was all in.

I think I have pretty well established that I am a country boy at heart, but having grown up in a neighborhood where the houses were so close together, you pretty much knew everything that goes on in every other house within sight. And even during the years after I grew up and moved out, with a couple of brief exceptions, almost everywhere I lived was similar to this so-called "close-knit community" thing that everybody likes to rave about. All the years that have transpired since I lived in that cabin, looking back at the things I learned there, I can say with confidence that everything I've learned - about the world around me and my microscopic place in it since - pales in comparison to what I learned on Winkley pond.

You make a right turn about a half mile before the pond and then a quick left a couple hundred yards in before making your Final approach to the cabin. Slowly rolling up the gravel road, passing the main house, another couple hundred yards in front of you is what looks like two buildings attached to each other straight in front of you. The road continues beyond the cabin a pretty good distance, Meandering its way toward other properties with Waterfront access to the pond, but as you get out of your car and step onto the porch, you can neither see the main house you have just passed by nor can you see any of the other properties beyond the cabin because the surrounding trees and natural landscapes completely obscure you from their view.

It is a three-step climb to the cabin's front door. If you turn completely around and put the door to your back, what stretches out in front of you is Winkley Pond. It's not a terribly large pond, under 20 acres by some measures, but it is considered part of a larger Conservation Area that includes a couple of other bodies of water and quite a bit of protected Forest land. Directly to your left is a slight ramp about 10 ft long that leads to a door with the universally known quarter moon carved into it, which serves as the biological waste recycling facility. More on that shortly.

If you look out from the porch and down to the left, you will see a very healthy and well-established stand of reeds that provide perfect cover for guppies, tadpoles, and newborn fish. They are also a great place for red-winged blackbirds and other sorts of birds to hang out, along with the occasional white or blue heron, to survey hunting opportunities. A fairly short walk straight ahead, and downhill a little bit, is the water's edge and what is effectively the beach from which you can look farther to your right and see that it continues maybe a hundred yards before you see trees again to the right of which is another cabin off in the distance.

There are several more beyond that one, more stands of trees not far away from the shoreline, and looking straight ahead to the other side of the water, there is a 50 mph Road from which you made the original turn to get into the wooded area where the cabin sits. It is stunning in its subtle and natural magnificence despite not being very big, and the first thing that hit me when I got there that first day was just how quiet it was... Even as I saw cars racing from left to right or right to left, I could not hear them from my vantage point while standing on that porch. It was breathtaking.

Spinning the rest of the way around and stepping through the front door of the cabin, you are immediately struck by the feeling that you have gone back in time; the interior walls are made of tongue-and-groove pine, knots and all, and you get the feeling that the room is wrapping its arms around you and giving you a big "welcome home "hug. The living space is broken up into two separate areas, each of which is 12 ft wide by 6 ft deep.

Stepping 6 feet forward takes you to two steps you walk up that bring you into the kitchen. The right half of the room has a gas heater and a set of homemade bunk beds to the far right. To the left is the kitchen area with one window, a double sink, a homemade countertop, homemade cabinets, a gas stove, and a refrigerator. As if placed there intentionally, what catches your eye as you take this all in is a red and white checked picnic tablecloth, which serves as a curtain used to cover what a normal person would consider the plumbing underneath the sink. Hermits and cabin dwellers are not normal people, so when I opened that curtain, I immediately broke into hysterical, tear-filled laughter as I discovered there was a 5-gallon mud bucket behind that vinyl tablecloth.

On the far right side of the counter, there is a little shelf on legs strong enough to hold two 2 1/2 gallon water jugs, the spigots of which can be connected to the faucet so you can pretend you have running water for things like washing dishes and the ever-popular sink bath should such an enterprise tickle your fancy. And while I took plenty of advantage of this particular feature, I only did so when Winkley began drawing a blanket of ice over itself to turn down the lights a bit so life beneath the surface could take a much-deserved respite from all the chaos of warmer water life. Before that time, all of my baths were taken neck-deep in my 20-acre bathtub. But before we get to that, let's talk about the 900 lb gorilla in the room... The Outhouse, or Privy if you happen to have grown up 3,500 miles east of my pond.

Various forms of outhouses have been around for centuries, as far back as the 1500s by some accounts, and as our species has evolved, so, too, has our way of contending with the unavoidable problem of disposing of the natural digestive byproducts of consuming food and water. The civilized elements of our society, spoiled by the luxuries of such things as running water, flush toilets, and bidets, are probably unaware that a coffee scoop of lye sprinkled over said byproduct renders it to dust in 24 to 48 hours. Performing such an act might be discomfiting to higher elements of society, but to the cabin-dwelling Hermit, it's just another day in the life. In the case of my time at Winkley, there was actually quite a bit of luxury to the whole experience.

The first time my kids came for visitation, they were having none of that outhouse; "icky," "gross," and "I'm not doing that" were said extensively during the ride from their house to the cabin, and I promised them they could hit the McDonald's bathroom a mile up the road before we got to Winkley. Once we got to the cabin, skimming rocks on the water, fighting over who got the top bunk, and the oldest making the trip up the ramp to check out the "facilities", and the next thing you know, they are arguing over who's turn it was to use the "bathroom."

My brother's friend had run a wire from a switch right inside the front door that connected to a light socket inside the outhouse. In warm weather, a standard 60 W soft white light bulb was used, but in colder weather, it held a heat lamp bulb, of the sort you get in bathrooms of hotels for use after a shower or bath, and it provided not only Heat but just a bit of ambiance to go along with flipping through the pages of old reader's digests. You know? It's funny how kids can figure out a way to turn"icky" into quality "me"time, but what do I know? Simple pleasures are in the eye of the beholder.

Speaking of simple pleasures, sitting on the transition between water and sand, naked as the day I was born and freshly bathed with a bar of Ivory soap and the waters of Winkley, I routinely watched the sunset in front of me, surrounded by the deafening silence of the smooth water and quieting wildlife until the sun had fallen the rest of the way below the horizon behind the trees on the other side of that road. The first time I did this, I felt a little uneasy; so accustomed our species has become to the trappings of clothing and modesty, I laughed nervously at myself about the very idea that I was naked anywhere outside the confines of four walls and drawn curtains.

When the next bath time came, I spent the sunset thinking about the first of my kind, who knew nothing other than nudity (and the joyful sensation of submerging themselves in water), and just how equally they must have found such beauty and wonder in that big round orange and yellow orb in the sky as it fell from sight. It occurred to me at that moment that, sitting at the edge of this body of water surrounded by a stand of reeds next to me on one side and trees on the other... 20 acres of water in front and all around me... I am the intruder, and Nature moved over and made room for me rather than the other way around. As well, Nature came before me, and she will remain long after I am gone. And that it is me who should be humbled by her permission to allow me a seat at the table and show gratitude by taking the best care of her, I can as my way of showing my appreciation for all the things I would not otherwise have if it were not for her presence.

I have never forgotten the things I learned from Nature during that period of my life when she allowed me a front-row desk in her classroom. She taught me that, like her, we are microscopically small compared to what exists beyond our comprehension. She taught me that each of the systems of life relies on the others to survive and that abusing any one system could very well severely harm or kill one or more of the others.

She also reminded me, perhaps most importantly, that you only get out of what you learn in theory that which you put back into the work of sustaining and improving it. Worthy of note is the observation that this applies equally to both human interactions as well as the relationship between humans and the natural systems we rely on from Nature in order to continue the existence of both.