Post script on that snowy picture

I shot this photo on the route up to the summit of Mount Moosilauke about a thousand years ago (OK, like, 2003).

I believe that when my friend Brian and I arrived at the trailhead, the temperature was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. The mountain is tall by New Hampshire standards, about 4,800 feet (I think the timberline is about 4,700, maybe a bit lower), so the summit was much colder. As you can see, snows occasionally falls in the area. The crust was so thick on the trees farther up that they looked like cauliflower.

Anyway, when we cleared the trees, the gale-force wind and the subzero temperatures made for a memorable experience. Cold, but gorgeous, with clear views for miles around. We didn't stay at the summit long. Even well-outfitted, I was cold for hours that day. We did see a group of moose on the way to the mountain, though, the only ones I saw walking around in the five years I lived in the state.

I don't miss the commute, or the endless winters, but I do miss the grim, foreboding mountains and the vicious weather.

Pretty huge deal

The butterfly lady got her official sign-off as a Ph.D. on Saturday at the University of New Hampshire, so we rolled out that way with her dad and met up with a couple of pals to hang out for the extended weekend.

This meant lots of chow in our old stomping grounds, tooling around in same, hanging around for hours in the chilly mist (not a warm day for graduation) and other fun activities. I felt a pretty fair amount of nostalgia and homesickness, but that passed Sunday afternoon when I was driving along Routes 107 and 111 in rather unweekend-like traffic. That I do not miss, not one bit.

Nevertheless, the visit was very nice and seeing the doctor anointed would have been worth the trip all by itself.