One Last NH Weekend
Last weekend, we went to NH for the final time before closing the house for the winter. We've never gone up this late in the year before--our November trip is usually a week earlier--but the kids had Thursday and Friday off school, the perfect time for a long weekend. We drove up Wednesday night. It was unabashedly cold--in the twenties--and we arrived at night to a shivering-cold house. The heat cranked on, though, and we warmed up quickly.
Thursday
Thursday, frost covered the ground when we woke up, but the girls and I took a cold walk into the fields late in the morning, while Andrew did some work calls. A whole stand of trees had fallen during a massive windstorm a few weeks ago--it was shocking to see, at least ten tall, skinny trees yanked up by the roots, piled and twisted on the ground. The girls were entranced, eager to explore, and game to consider that some of the more tangled branches may have been "woven" by mysterious creatures, such as Bigfoot. Lucia did some knocks and calls; alas, we heard no response. However, we did find some branches with what truly appeared to be hieroglyphic-like carvings. We also walked around the pond, in the shady areas where frost lingered throughout the day.
After lunch, Lucia was so eager to do more exploring with Andrew that I took Greta to the grocery store so she could squeeze in more adventuring before Andrew's next phone meeting. They were out there the entire time we were gone.
When it's this raw and cold outside, and it starts getting dark at 3:45pm, we hunker down and enjoy the insider life of the house. L&G had brought Hatchimals, stuffed animals, and coloring books. We played Guess Who. We read books. It was lovely.
We "cooked" instant ramen for dinner, determined to relax as much as possible during our stay--to not even cook.
Friday
Andrew spent much of Saturday morning chopping wood outside. The girls and I stayed inside, making tiny donuts out of polymer clay. We embarked on a game of Monopoly--Lucia's new favorite--with an old board Andrew played on as a kid. The game went on and on and on. Greta, uninterested, busied herself with other things.
We took a long, cold winter walk in the woods. That's when we really start feeling the ghosts.
Later, Andrew made a fire in the fireplace, which we've never done before, always too frightened of what might be in the chimney. But he determined it was clear, and the fire was the perfect thing for the cold evening.
It was so cozy in front of the fire--reading, playing, continuing Monopoly--that none of us wanted to leave, even though we also wanted to go out to dinner. We finally dragged ourselves away from the fire and went to the Harpoon Brewery, and were glad we did.
Saturday
More walks in the woods and fields. We collected a million pinecones (which we then forgot to pack in the car). L&G made a secret hideout in some vine-y growth in the woods. The pond had frozen overnight--the first time I'd ever seen it frozen--and we spent some time throwing rocks onto the surface, watching them skitter and slide.
More low-key inside time. Greta played pizzeria by folding a chair mat into fourths and offering it around. They played doctor with antique kitchen tools, ministering to their stuffed animals. We all colored.
We did leave the house again, for some shopping in a nearby town. We like wandering through the Walmart, feeling local, buying provisions. We let the girls buy some Hatchimals and pumpkin-pie-flavored Chapstick. Then we went out to dinner at the Weathervane, where we ate our weight in fried clam strips and fried shrimp, and the girls strewed Hatchimals shells all over the table. (The waitress, familiar with Hatchimals, kindly brought us a paper bag.)
Being out in the unnatural early darkness makes the girls incredibly slap happy--they're convinced it's the middle of the night at 5pm. Oh, the hysteria on the drive home.
We made another fire once the kids were in bed. I began mourning our imminent departure.
Sunday
A long, final walk through the woods. We explored an old stone wall, and the remains of an old stone silo. Then we began the work of closing up the house, making it as inhospitable to mice as possible, though they'll do what they do regardless of our precautions. (There was the year they ate all the candles. They always eat the kleenex. One year they ate glass Christmas ornaments and Andrew found two of them dead in the hall.)
And then we said goodbye. Sadly, sadly. It's a place outside of time and real life; we need our time there, that feeling of being deeply rested and peaceful. Yes, a wasp flew into my hair; yes, clumps of dead ladybugs gather daily in the corners of the ceiling; yes, there were, oddly, flies buzzing around our bedroom every night. And yet. Our happiness there is real.
We planned for dinner at our favorite pizza place on our way out of town--only to be greeted by locked doors and a sign indicating it was closed on Sundays. This must be a seasonal change, one we'd never been around late enough to encounter. So we got back in the car and headed for the highway, all of us hungry, all of us wishing for just a little more time in a warm lighted place in New Hampshire.
Thursday
Thursday, frost covered the ground when we woke up, but the girls and I took a cold walk into the fields late in the morning, while Andrew did some work calls. A whole stand of trees had fallen during a massive windstorm a few weeks ago--it was shocking to see, at least ten tall, skinny trees yanked up by the roots, piled and twisted on the ground. The girls were entranced, eager to explore, and game to consider that some of the more tangled branches may have been "woven" by mysterious creatures, such as Bigfoot. Lucia did some knocks and calls; alas, we heard no response. However, we did find some branches with what truly appeared to be hieroglyphic-like carvings. We also walked around the pond, in the shady areas where frost lingered throughout the day.
After lunch, Lucia was so eager to do more exploring with Andrew that I took Greta to the grocery store so she could squeeze in more adventuring before Andrew's next phone meeting. They were out there the entire time we were gone.
When it's this raw and cold outside, and it starts getting dark at 3:45pm, we hunker down and enjoy the insider life of the house. L&G had brought Hatchimals, stuffed animals, and coloring books. We played Guess Who. We read books. It was lovely.
We "cooked" instant ramen for dinner, determined to relax as much as possible during our stay--to not even cook.
Friday
Andrew spent much of Saturday morning chopping wood outside. The girls and I stayed inside, making tiny donuts out of polymer clay. We embarked on a game of Monopoly--Lucia's new favorite--with an old board Andrew played on as a kid. The game went on and on and on. Greta, uninterested, busied herself with other things.
We took a long, cold winter walk in the woods. That's when we really start feeling the ghosts.
Later, Andrew made a fire in the fireplace, which we've never done before, always too frightened of what might be in the chimney. But he determined it was clear, and the fire was the perfect thing for the cold evening.
It was so cozy in front of the fire--reading, playing, continuing Monopoly--that none of us wanted to leave, even though we also wanted to go out to dinner. We finally dragged ourselves away from the fire and went to the Harpoon Brewery, and were glad we did.
Saturday
More walks in the woods and fields. We collected a million pinecones (which we then forgot to pack in the car). L&G made a secret hideout in some vine-y growth in the woods. The pond had frozen overnight--the first time I'd ever seen it frozen--and we spent some time throwing rocks onto the surface, watching them skitter and slide.
More low-key inside time. Greta played pizzeria by folding a chair mat into fourths and offering it around. They played doctor with antique kitchen tools, ministering to their stuffed animals. We all colored.
We did leave the house again, for some shopping in a nearby town. We like wandering through the Walmart, feeling local, buying provisions. We let the girls buy some Hatchimals and pumpkin-pie-flavored Chapstick. Then we went out to dinner at the Weathervane, where we ate our weight in fried clam strips and fried shrimp, and the girls strewed Hatchimals shells all over the table. (The waitress, familiar with Hatchimals, kindly brought us a paper bag.)
Being out in the unnatural early darkness makes the girls incredibly slap happy--they're convinced it's the middle of the night at 5pm. Oh, the hysteria on the drive home.
We made another fire once the kids were in bed. I began mourning our imminent departure.
Sunday
A long, final walk through the woods. We explored an old stone wall, and the remains of an old stone silo. Then we began the work of closing up the house, making it as inhospitable to mice as possible, though they'll do what they do regardless of our precautions. (There was the year they ate all the candles. They always eat the kleenex. One year they ate glass Christmas ornaments and Andrew found two of them dead in the hall.)
And then we said goodbye. Sadly, sadly. It's a place outside of time and real life; we need our time there, that feeling of being deeply rested and peaceful. Yes, a wasp flew into my hair; yes, clumps of dead ladybugs gather daily in the corners of the ceiling; yes, there were, oddly, flies buzzing around our bedroom every night. And yet. Our happiness there is real.
We planned for dinner at our favorite pizza place on our way out of town--only to be greeted by locked doors and a sign indicating it was closed on Sundays. This must be a seasonal change, one we'd never been around late enough to encounter. So we got back in the car and headed for the highway, all of us hungry, all of us wishing for just a little more time in a warm lighted place in New Hampshire.
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