Comparative History

Yikes.  I've seriously been neglecting this blog.  New year's resolution? To blog once a week.  Is that too lenient a goal? Nah, I think it's a reasonable and actually attainable.  Since my last entry, I've gotten married, completed my first semester of graduate school, purchased a home, traveled to Thailand, and those are just the BIG things.  But let's not look back.

Rather, let's examine the present and the state of winter in Western Mass.  Last year around this time it looked like this:

Three feet of snow in our backyard at this time last year. 

"A dead person could be down there and we wouldn't know until spring." This was a thought that danced around my head all winter...there was that much f*cking snow.

Obligatory shot of Subaru. Subarus in the Happy Valley are like BMWs in Beverly Hills.

Keep in mind that we moved so the house is not the constant in this comparison.  The house is the variable and the time of year is the constant. Got it? Also, I'm now using the photo editing and sharing site Instagram so my pics look, in my opinion, processed but better. Here we go:

Beyond a line of trees at the end of our cul de sac is this ginormous field. Perfect for cross country skiing and snow shoeing...when there is snow.

Our home. See that pile of snow? Yeah. We're the only people on the block who still have any snow. After a few inches fell, I convinced Joe that we needed to shovel our driveway. Mind you, we were the only knuckleheads on the block shoveling, as everyone else knew that it would melt away in a few days. Hence, the remaining pile.

See? Everyone else was clued into the melting action.  That snow there? More leftovers from my genius idea.

Talk about extremes right? And some people still try to argue against global warming? I call those people bozos. Like the clown.

Florida, MA and a hairpin turn

Florida, MA sign going west on the Mohawk Trail

Absurd Florida, MA sign--Snow man and palm trees?  Really Troop 76?

Wacky hairpin turn driving down Florida Mountain into North Adams

In February, I started a weekly commute from Northampton to Williamstown for a contract gig at the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute.  There are numerous ways to get from point A to point B and none of them are very direct or on a major freeway for more than a few miles.  For example, I could take the 9, to the 112, to the 116, to the 8, and finally, to the 2, which would dump me off in Williamstown.  OR, I could take the 9 to the 143, to the 8, to the 7, also resulting in a Williamstown arrival.  My favorite of late happens to be the longest mileage but shortest duration is the picturesquely scenic Mohawk Trail route; the I-91, to the 2 (aka the Mohawk Trail)!  The Mohawk Trail twists, turns, spools, then unfurls, races against two different rivers, then climbs the microcosm that is Mount Florida.  The descent opens with a shocking 360 degree hairpin turn before you are whisked down the mountain into the industrial town of North Adams, Williamstown's blue collar neighbor.  At first, I found the drive sort of stressful and therefore, exhausting.  But after a few rounds at bat, I'm getting more and more comfortable and have started to really enjoy the natural beauty that envelopes me from all sides.  The Berkshires are known as the purple mountains and this morning I got my first peek as to why.  At a mid journey crest, I turned a corner to find a glorious Grimus colored purple peak staring down at me and fell a little more in love with New England.