Summer in upstate New York, especially the Adirondacks, can be beautiful, and this past weekend was one of the top ten. Well, at least Friday and Saturday. The weather was warm, low humidity and the sky was a crisp blue. These realities alone would be enough to qualify for a weekend of joy, but a get together with friends who go way back was my additional gift. I started counting my joys upon my arrival.
There is nothing like a hug from a friend who truly knows you. A friend, who has pulled you through some difficult times and has brought forth laughter when the tears were flowing. I’m talking about a friend who knows all of your faults, and still overlooks them because they love you anyway. When I walked through the door, greeted by my friends and received those loving, knowing hugs, my heart filled with joy and I knew I was in the right place for the next couple of days.
Slowing our pace from one of a busy week to that of a relaxing weekend, we all grabbed our favorite cocktail and headed outside to the deck that overlooks The Great Sacandaga Lake. We smiled with joy at the amazing view. The water was slowly calming as weary, sun burnt, boaters headed into shore, their vessels awash in the last golden rays of the sun. Our ears filled with a joyful noise as birds began a chorus of praise for the day and the breeze kicked in just enough to bring the thought of a jacket to one’s mind.
After a joyous dinner, what many were calling a Super Moon because of its closeness the Earth over the next few weeks drew our attention. The friends gathered, paused mid-conversations to admire the beauty of the full moon as it rose above the water leaving a shimmering trail on the surface.
Mornings can be glorious on a lake in the Adirondacks. This past Saturday was no exception. At dawn, I rolled over in bed only to witness the rising sun. I sat up to admire the reds and oranges the sun shoved over the horizon of the Earth as she made her appearance for the day. The birds greeted the growing light with songs of joy and I was lulled back into sleep with their chorus.
After lunch, we all donned our bathing suits, sunscreen and hats. With drinks in hand, we headed to the dock for a boat cruise. The water sparkled with the glimmer of the sun and as always, I appreciated the fact of how clear a mountain lake can be. The cruise was en-joy-able as we admired the other passing boats and the attractive homes lining the shore. The sun was hot and so our captain stopped the boat long enough for all of us to jump in and swim around for a while. I love the feel of the softness of the water and the coolness it brings as it overcomes the heat from the sun. We lingered in our swim for quite some time.
A day on the lake cannot be complete without a cookout and ours was grand. We started with cocktails and beer accompanied by fresh steamed clams. Then, just when we thought we should not eat anymore the steak, corn and salt potatoes arrived. The wine was corked and we all dug in as if none of us had eaten in days. Yet, the atmosphere and dinner was only complete with the sweet sound of joyful laughter that arose from the table. Laughter derived from friends who can finish each other’s sentences and still laugh at the same worn jokes told at every gathering.
The joy I felt all weekend filled my heart to bursting and it was then I recognized, life does not get much better than this.
upstate New York
Winter Storm Walk
It has been a while since I took a walk in the snow by myself. I had forgotten how much I enjoy the quiet of a winter storm. Rain storms have their own beauty, but they are showy with their thunder and lightning. A winter storm silently creeps in and slowly drops layer by layer of several inches of pure white magnificence.
Bundled in my coat, hat and gloves, I open the door and feel the cold air rush against my face and down my lungs. The chill wraps itself around my legs and begins to creep into my toes and fingertips. I don’t mind. My senses are aroused and I am reminded that I far enjoy the cold as opposed to hot humid temperatures.
The snow is deep enough to cover the tops of my hiking boots and I thrill to lose the sight of my feet in the soft, fluffy ice crystals. As the snowflakes tickle my face, I trudge up to the top of a hill on my street and begin the long trek down the other side to an another neighborhood. Here I encounter two manmade ponds. I can see the trace of a shoveled area where the neighborhood kids have been ice skating. It looks like they will have some work to do in order to recover their rink.
The quiet envelopes me and I lose myself in the stillness while I reflect on a myriad of thoughts. I am startled back to my surroundings by the chirps of a chickadee. Listening, I hear the branches of trees as they rub against each other in a slight wind. I gaze across a field and as usual I am in awe of the expanse of pristine white contrasting against the low grey clouds. I observe the 
park benches as they sit staring into the icy pond, waiting, I suppose, for spring to return. But, I will bid my time, enjoying this season and my winter walk. Once again I succumb to the calm of the silent snow and let my thoughts wander. I think of a warm bowl of soup waiting for me upon my return home. I decide this is the perfect day to build a fire and to enjoy it’s warmth as I revel in the freedom of my snow day.
Turning the corner to complete my lap around the pond I lift my head and smile with gratitude at one of my most favorite sights. The splendor of pine trees covered in snow. I always think the trees look stunning in their long gowns of wedding white.
The squirrels have been out and about leaving behind tiny footprints. I also discover the traces of a fellow traveler. Their boot marks almost lost in the snow that has fallen since their walk. I wonder if the person who traveled this road before me enjoyed the sights as much as I.
The tranquility of the morning is broken by the sound of a snowplow. I see the huge orange truck maneuvering growing banks of snow around a corner. I cross the road to get out of his way; snowplows in upstate New York are massive. There is no one else out and I contemplate what the truck driver must think of me. Does he think I’m crazy or does he understand the delight of walking through a snowstorm?
The Snowman Contingent
As anyone that has read some of my blogs will know, I like snow. This in turn leads to my love of snowmen. During the winter I have assorted displays of the 3 globes of frozen precipitation decorating my home. They add whimsy to the dark days of the coldest months.
Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my family follows our tradition and cuts down a Christmas Tree. We trim the tree that afternoon and then over the course of the next day or so I finish decorating the rest of the house. Come sometime in mid-January I take down all of the Christmas embellishments. But, I leave out all of the snowmen; after all it is still very much winter at that time of year here in upstate New York. It brings me pleasure to drink coffee in the morning out of my varied winter themed mugs and the snowmen seem to smile at me as I watch the Weather Channel anticipating winter storms. I have the superstition that my frozen friends help deliver a sunny but snowy winter. Consequently, I like having them around the house.
But, the time has come to dismantle the snowman displays. As I type this I can hear the wind rumbling up against my house and watch as it causes small branches to fall from the trees. The temperature today has not even reached the freezing level. Despite this, I am officially calling snowman season over.
It is March and even though spring here can actually be defined as mud season and certainly not enjoyable, I think it is time to move on. Skiing will continue for a few more weekends as there is still snow at Gore Mountain. But, there is no white stuff left in my yard and besides, I am ready for some color. Perhaps, if I drag out my spring décor I will encourage the warmer temperatures to come our way and we will begin to see the crocuses, daffodils and tulips in bloom.
So it is goodbye snowmen, see you next winter.
Suprise Snowfall
The other day, as I heard birds chirping away and felt a small sliver on sun on my shoulders, I thought, I’m ready for spring. Then the super storm swept across the country and I was sad because here in my little neck of the woods we weren’t supposed to get any snow. I felt cheated. Yet, yesterday afternoon, as I was teaching a class, I looked up to see snowflakes dancing through the air. I felt myself smile.
I have this total love for snow. Upon my arrival home I sat in a comfy chair and watched tiny snowflakes fall and slowly but diligently cover the brown of winter, encasing the earth in pristine white. Later that evening, returning from dinner out, I put on the high beams so that I could see the snowflakes as the hood of my car pressed through the white haze of miniscule flakes made one by their number. I smiled a huge grin to see one of my favorite sights. Pine trees flocked with poufs of snow; a dramatic showing of the beautiful contrast of colors in nature; light against dark. This night, the snow was heavy and clung to each branch of the oaks and maples that surround my house showing off the intricate branches of the trees. I stood in the drive a few minutes and let the snowflakes tickle my face as they ever so gently fell in their winter silence to the ground.
Finally, this morning as the snow continued to fall, leaving us with enough depth to cause a two hour school delay, I sat with my coffee and enjoyed the beauty of the day breaking on trees laden with their burden. Early spring birds flitting from one branch to the other trying to figure out what is going on. This snowfall will not last long. The weather, very soon, is supposed to turn warm enough to melt it. I am trying to take in all of the sights I can. I want to hold this winter scene with me as the seasons begin to change. I know in upstate New York, this may not be our last snowfall. But, this is certainly one of the most beautiful.
Winter And All Of It’s Glory
I love winter. When I walk outside, I am exhilarated by the wallop of the cold air on my face, and in my lungs. I want to breathe deeply. My skin tingles. It brings me to life.
There are days in winter when the sky is a luminous blue. Your eyes are entranced by the contrast between the snow-covered pine trees, with hints of green, thrown up against a brilliant sapphire blue. Ride a ski lift on a frigid, sunny day and take a look for yourself. You will be awed by the magic of it.
As I child I anticipated winter. Spring was fine, but summer was too hot. Fall was getting better, cool days, brisk nights. The tree leaves changing into their fall royalty. But, every year I would pray for snow on my birthday. Never realizing this would be a difficult task for mother earth, as my birthday is in October.
At an early age I watched the Olympic ski racers and my heart pounded. I knew I had to try that sport. I fantasized about the adventure of skiing. I wanted to be on the slopes all day and feel the cold wind burn my face as I carved turns through the stately pines. After an exhausting day, I pictured myself sitting beside a roaring fire, dressed in a trendy ski sweater, laughing with friends. Who wouldn’t love that?
I anticipate snowstorms like a school age kid. I know the snow dance by heart. I religiously follow the Weather Channel, and feel I personally know Jim Cantore. It is thrilling to me, when he is seen in Albany, NY, predicting a storm. That means our part of the country will be blessed with the big one. You will not see me running to the grocery in panic before a storm. However, I will make sure I am stocked up on hot chocolate. That way when I come in from my heady tromp through the snow, I can melt by the fire and enjoy a nice steaming cup.
To me there is nothing more beautiful than the world after a snowfall. Everything is so clean and brilliant, like starched white shirts. I am mesmerized when I see a big field stretched out in its blanket of snow. It sparkles with diamonds in the sun. The snow covered earth runs right up to the trees and helps display their leafless branches. The branches reach out like arms and twist into wonderful shapes. It is quite a beautiful art form. Something you will not have the opportunity to enjoy in the summer.
When it is cold enough the ponds and lakes, even the rivers freeze over. It is rare but there is nothing more enthralling than to see water frozen as it made its way down over the fall. It is motion, literally frozen in time. I know, to love winter and its beauty is not for all. But, this year take a walk and you too may come to realize the wonder of winter.
Time for me
I went to sleep last night listening to loons calling. It is a long call that sounds almost as a flute fluttering through several notes. The sound echoes over the water and disappears slowly through the mountains. It is late August in the Adirondacks and that means the weather is cooling. The air is clear and dry, the nights require a sweatshirt. One of my favorite times of year.
This summer, like many before it, has slipped through my hands. When the last weather front came through, knocking back the humidity and dropping the temperature, I knew summer was on its way out, here in upstate New York. Consequently, I took advantage of a standing invitation and yesterday arrived at The Great Sacandaga Lake in time for a swim before cocktails.
I could tell the water temperature has already begun to drop from its record high of 82 degrees this summer; it was cool but not enough that the swim didn’t feel delightful. There is something amazing about swimming in a mountain lake. The water is soft, like swimming through silk, and so clear you can see the bottom and all of the boulders and rocks as you skim across the surface. Looking up and down the lake, as I swam, I relished the view of the gentle Adirondack Mountains. Not tall and majestic like the Rockies, but round and comfortable. Like the arms of a mother. Growing up, I knew I wanted to live in or near mountains. And so, my dream has come true. That is why, I had to do myself this favor and allow the time to come to this lake and slow down, take time to cherish the last fleeting warm days of this summer. I did not want to look back in the middle of February and think, I didn’t get enough lake time.
Rosemary Christle-Renaud 
