Wow! Compared to last winter, this one has been a breeze, hasn’t it? (Knock on wood.) Good thing, too. I don’t think Charlie’s back couldn’t have taken another February like the one we had in 2015. Because even with a plow on your truck, you still gotta snow blow the paths to the shed and the mailbox and for the oil and gas dilivery guys. Then, there’s shoveling off the deck and the steps and don’t forget, raking the roof. Swear to God, I think we still had piles of unmelted snow into April! But this winter, we’ve actually seen the grass between small dumpings of the white stuff. And some days, it’s felt like …

I was lookin’ through old photo albums the other day, when I come across this Halloween gem. I don’t know what Irene and me were supposed to be, but it must have been some cold and crappy out. Check out the winter coats and boots. If you look close, you can see Irene has a knit hat on behind her cat mask. Maybe that’s why she’s holding it up, instead of wearin’ it. (That mask was probably a tight fit with the hat on.) I think I see the hint of a hood behind my mask. And what’s up with Irene’s cape, with the dancing circus dogs on it? My biggest concern when I look …

Fall’s hunting season here in Maine. Bow hunting takes place in October, and come November, they bring out the heavy artillery. So if you’re out walking in the woods, be sure to wear your blaze orange vests, hats and what not. I know, it’s not in my color wheel either, but sometimes you gotta forgo fashion for safety. Why, even our little dog Scamp wears his colors. Got him a blaze orange bandana and vest, and boy, oh boy, does he ever look cunnin.’ Hunting season always makes me think of my Grandfather, Fredrick Gilbert. Grampy was a Registered Maine Guide. Folks from away would come up to Maine to go hunting and fishing, and …

Saturday morning, Charlie and me went out for breakfast down to the Busy Bee. Now that Labor Day has passed, the tourists are thinning out, so us locals can actually get a seat. My sister Irene and her husband Jimbo were planning to meet us there. We arrive to find them sitting at an outdoor table, shooting the breeze with Craig Holden. “Hey there, Craig,” I says. “How you doing?” Gosh, Craig must be in his forties now. He’s Snowdell Holden’s grandson. Snowdell’s the former postmistress of Mahoosuc Mills, and reigning grand poobah of the local chapter of the Red Hatters. But that’s another story. Jimbo goes, “Craig’s trying to unload a rooster.” “Would you …

So, I’m working checkout at the A&P, right? When I hear this conversation out of the corner of my ear: two women, voices lowered, talking fast in a urgent sort way. I mean, who wouldn’t listen in? “He wakes me up every morning at 5:00.” “Every morning?” “Like clockwork. I don’t mind it so much on week days. I have to be up for work, anyways. But, it’s the weekends, too.” “You think he’d let you sleep in at least one morning.” “Nope. He just won’t give it a rest. At first I thought it was kind of  cute, you know? But frankly, it’s wearing me down!” “I don’t blame you. Not every morning.” Well, …

Boy, I’ll tell ya, things are always changin’ down to the transfer station! So much so, it’s hard to keep it all straight, one week to another. They take #1 and #2 plastic, but #5? One week yes, the next week no. Keep the plastic caps on the bottles? No, now you’re supposed to take ‘em off and put ‘em over there. I secretly wonder if, late at night, they don’t have a good laugh at our expense, as they mix all the recycling together and toss it into the compactor. Pretty cynical, I know, but the thought has crossed my mind. Oh, it’s just too much rigmarole for me. But Charlie, thank God, he …

This week, I stopped by Wicked Good Stuff, our little thrift shop in town, to drop off a few of things. I mean, how many mugs with logos do you really need? I also donated a  pasta maker I got a some Yankee Swap a few years back. Never did figure out how to use it. Plus, hello, you can get the fresh stuff already made down to the A&P, so why bother? I also threw in a pair of black sandals with bows that were so cute, but honey, every friggin’ time I wore ‘em it felt like I was part of some sort of an ancient foot binding ritual. Pure torture! It always …

Charlie come home from work the other day, and I could tell straight off, he had some sort of bee in his bonnet. “What’s a matter?” I ask. “I’m gonna mow the lawn ‘fore supper,” he says, stormin’ out the door and lettin’ it slam behind him. “OK. Sounds good.” Now, in the early years of our marriage, I’d try to get Charlie to tell me what was bothering him. I’d hug him, you know, wanting to make things better. Frankly, all that did was make him feel smothered. Then, I’d end up as miffed as he was. Nowadays, I give him a wide berth, let him work through whatever it is at his own …

Last weekend, Charlie and me were out walkin’ Scamp ‘round the neighborhood. The weather’s been nice, you know, and we’re tryin’ to take advantage of it as much as we can. Plus, this summer is already shapin’ up to be one eating opportunity after another, so we need to burn calories where we can. When you walk the same route like we do, you get to see the changes as they happen, which is fun. When the rhodies start to bloom, it’s an event, or when them stella d’oro daylilies burst yellow overnight. You head off early enough, and you see your neighbors sneakin’ out in their pj’s to get the paper or you smell …

Charlie and me were out walkin’ Scamp ‘round the neighborhood this weekend when we see Pearl Plaisted puttering around in her yard, dead headin’ her potted plants. So, we stop and chat, like you do. “Hey there, Pearl,” I says. “How you doin’?”. “Pretty good for someone married to a mowin’ fool.” Charlie chimes in, “Hank get himself a new toy?” “Yup, a zero turn mower. Hear it?” All of us listen a minute to the sound of Hank, tearin’ around the backyard on his new machine. Charlie goes, “I thought he had a zero turn.” “He did, but we were over to Home Depot pickin’ up some gardenin’ supplies, and next thing I know, …