Early Spring in Mid-Maine. . .

French Mountain in the mist

I woke up with a sense of dread yesterday. That's not so unusual these days. What fresh hell would await in reading the newspaper? And how long would we have a newspaper to read?

So. You can see my mood. The dreary weather was not much of a help. I'd decided to go to French Mountain, about a 20 minute drive away, because I felt like Jasper and I needed a change. It was raining pretty hard for the drive over, and I almost stopped at another trailhead to do a very short walk, and run away back to the comfort of our indoor spaces.

Clearing. Early spring in Maine

I have no idea why I kept going. . .it was really raining, and even though I'm invincible in Wellies and an umbrella, I was just not looking forward to it. This is highly unusual for me. Jasper, of course, is always ready for a walk. By the time we parked and hiked to the top of the mountain, the rain had stopped, and we could see the lake through the mist. I realize that those of you who are experiencing true spring will not be impressed with these images, but it was so heartening for me.

You can never go wrong with treats. . .

 

 

 I pulled out the treats, and we celebrated. Then we headed down the mountain. The drive back was lovely, I came home feeling energized and like I might be able to Do Something to slow the onslaught. Then I took a chance, and opened the kiln to see what the kiln Gods, with whom I am never on the best of terms, might give me.

That's fodder for the next post. Be well. Keep trudging.