The ice is out on Quimby Pond, the loons are back and the fish are biting! The black flies aren’t out yet and it’s warm enough to sit on the porch and it’s just about time to start the garden.
In our eagerness for fishing season we went out on opening day April 1st, but the snowbanks were still so high I had to crawl over them in my waders to get to the river! I held my rod high as I sunk up to my waist in soft snow, struggling to make it to the water. Thankfully the snowbanks are gone now and although the water is still a little high from all the rain this spring the fish are here waiting in the riffles! I expect it will only get better!
In a few weeks I’ll bring the canoe down to the pond and plant the garden, but in the mean-time it’s time to go back out fishing….
Winter in Rangeley is here! The snow began falling around Halloween and it has been gently falling ever since. I sit snuggled on the couch with the fire going and watch big fat flakes collecting on the tree branches outside the window. Soon we will put on the x-country ski’s and head out the back door and onto the myriad of trails through the woods and glide quietly through the forest. This time of year is quiet in the woods. The chickadees flit through the snow-covered branches causing little snow-showers as they brush snow off the branches where they land. The resident woodpecker drums in the background, taking the place of the loon call as the seasons change. Deer move along their winter trails and paw at the ground for bird-seed under the bird-feeder in the backyard. Whether sitting by the fire, on the porch, or playing outside, it’s a great time of year to be in Rangeley and enjoying camp.
Once again the flowers are blooming, the canoe is down by the pond, and the grill is wafting the delicious smell of BBQ. It’s summer time in Rangeley!
It has been a sweltering hot summer in Maine, but thankfully there has been a little respite from the heat in the shady woods of Rangeley. The loon pair on the pond had twins this summer and they have been serenading us since spring with their beautiful and haunting songs. We sit around the campfire at night and listen to them, gazing at the brilliantly clear sky full of stars. Curls of smoke and sparks lift from the fire and float into the night sky; the red sparks stand out against the black night and then fade into the white of the stars as they burn out. It’s quiet and peaceful in the Maine woods.
The ice on Quimby Pond was cracking and popping all day. When I walked outside the camp I could hear it calling to me in a low cracking tone and like a sailor drawn by the sounds of a siren I walked down to the edge of the pond. I stood on the safety of the solid ground listening and watching as the pond quivered and sang through the night until the cold seeped into my bones. Shivering and tempted to test the ice I stayed still, watching the pond roll and rumble at my feet. At last, when I was shivering as much as the ice was shaking, I walked back to camp ducking through the pine bows and weaving through the woods under the light of the moon.