As many of you know who read this blog, from time to time I write about growing up on a dairy farm in the Adirondacks in the 1960s and '70s. As a kid you don't always know the struggles your parents go through when times are tough on a farm, but you know enough.
Well, it's been a while since I lived through this kind of a cold snap for so long of a period, certainly not since I moved to Boston with my wife in the mid-1990s. So far this winter, we've dealt with frozen pipes to the kitchen at least four times. Personally, I'd rather be battling snow.
Abby's gone. No other way to say it really. The constant companion for my wife and I for the last sixteen years is no longer with us. The cat who would be human, (not to insult her in any way), had to be euthanized. We will miss her every day.
I recently received an interesting (but misguided) commentary to one of my previous blogs (The Pantry comment by Zacharias Tims) that got me thinking about New Englanders in general and Mainers in particular
