Bees: Late January Hive Inspection

I take a peek at my wintering bees and get good and bad news.

I started my beekeeping hobby in June 2013 and have been blogging about it periodically. If you’re interested in reading the other posts in this series, follow the Adventures in Beekeeping tag. Keep in mind that the most recent posts always appear first on this blog.

Full sun is back on my property up at the base of the Malaga cliffs and my beehives are getting direct sun on them several hours a day again — at least when the sun is out. I was there midday on Friday when full-sun temperatures at my place were at least 45°F. I saw a few bees buzzing around two of my hives — including the one I considered weakest.

I decided to take a few minutes and peek inside the hives. I wound up opening only two of the three hives.

Original Hive

The first hive I opened was my original hive, begun with a nuc in the beginning of June 2012. Over the course of the season, the hive had developed a serious mite problem that I combatted with drone frames and, late in the season, medication. If I were to put my three hives in order of strength, I would rate this #2 — neither strongest nor weakest. It had a good population and I added both sugar water and a food patty via a top feeder before closing it up for the winter.

It was very difficult to get the hive open. I think it was a combination of a great deal of propolis between boxes and the cold weather. When I finally got the feeder box off, I saw mostly empty frames with a scattering of dead bees. Although I was unable, due to the cold, to remove any of the frames, I’m quite certain that there are not any live bees inside the hive. There were, however, frames with plenty of honey so I know that they did not starve to death.

Hive Spit

The second hive that I opened was a hive split taken from that original hive in July. The split had never been very healthy and it had the same mite problem that the original hive had. Because it was my weakest hive, it was also the one that I took to the Chelan County Fair in my observation hive. I did not have very high hopes for its survival over the winter. I had prepared it with several full frames of honey and a frame feeder. When I closed the box up for the winter, it was only one deep box tall.

I was very surprised, therefore, to see many live bees when I opened the outer cover and pulled away the Styrofoam insulation I had put in just beneath it. I did not pull off the inner cover; I merely peeked in the oval opening and saw a lot of moving bees. I added a food patty to the top of the inner cover, put some more of the insulation around it, and put the outer cover back on. I didn’t see any reason to further disturb the bees, especially when it was still so cold out.

Swarm Hive

My third hive was a swarm capture from June. It was my strongest hive. Like my first hive, it had a top feeder with sugar water and a food patty. I did not bother to open it. But I did see bees at the entrance and suspect things are still buzzing inside.

Upcoming Weather

We’ve had a relatively mild winter so far. Other than some bitterly cold days in early December, temperatures in the area have hovered around freezing for the rest of that month and all throughout January.

Things are forecasted to change this week, with more bitter cold temperatures, possibly getting into the single digits during the night and staying below 30°F most days, at least for the foreseeable future. Direct sunlight on my beehives during sunny days should give them relief — at least during the day — from the bitter cold. I’m hoping my two remaining hives can survive the coming cold weather.

I’m also hoping that we get at least one more extraordinarily warm day sometime within the next two weeks. I’d like to pull the tops off both of my surviving hives and check on food stores, possibly replacing empty frames with full ones from the dead hive. I have a 2-month trip coming up and although I toyed with the idea of taking my bees with me — after all, I am going to California’s almond country — it makes more sense to leave them behind. I’d like to get them set up for their best chances of survival before spring finally arrives.

Shoveling Snow Time-Lapse

I shovel snow for the first time in 16 years.

It snowed last night. Finally.

Yeah, we did have some minor snowfall way back at the end of November or beginning of December, but it wasn’t much. I bought a snow shovel at the local Habitat for Humanity shop for $5 but was better off just sweeping that snow away.

But last night we had the real thing. About four inches of the stuff, slightly wet but otherwise powdery. I saw it in the dark when I woke up and let Penny out. She ran to the edge of the porch, saw the white stuff on the walk and in the yard, and turned tail, running back into the house, obviously afraid. It was 30 minutes later, after she’d finished most of her breakfast and really had to go that she stepped out into it. That’s when I got an idea of how deep it was — she sank in up to her little body and wound up doing her business under the porch.

I walked out, still in my slippers, and stuck a forefinger in the fresh snow on the walkway. My finger was buried before I touched the ground.

At least four inches. Whoa!

I waited eagerly for the sun to rise. I was actually looking forward to using that new shovel.

Those of you in winter wonderlands who have had snow dumped on you all season probably think I’m nuts. I’m not. I grew up in the New York Metro area where the weather was a bit colder in winter than where I am now — and a lot colder than where I lived in Arizona for 15+ years. I didn’t realize how much I missed the snow until I got here, prepped for winter sports, and then waited for the snow to fall.

It didn’t.

Until last night.

Anyway, at about 8 AM, I donned my winter pants and jacket and boots and fashioned my Buff into a balaclava. Then I pulled on my ski gloves and went out to do a chore most people hate: shoveling snow. Of course, I created a time-lapse:

I don’t have to shovel the driveway, which is quite long. The man who owns the house I’m living in right now has arranged for snow plow service if the snow gets too deep. Right now, I don’t think it’s too deep at all — my Jeep has big, gnarly tires that won’t even notice the snow. Besides, temperatures later this week are expected to rise above freezing — heck, it’s already 31°F outside right now — so I don’t expect the snow to linger.

Maybe that’s why I was in such a hurry to get out there and shovel? I didn’t want to miss my opportunity.

Besides, once it starts melting, I suspect it’ll be a lot heavier and harder to move.

Snowshoeing. Finally.

More like iceshoeing, if you ask me.

When I decided to spend the winter at my new home in Malaga, WA, I decided to embrace the winter. After all, it was the first real winter I would experience since leaving New Jersey for Arizona in 1997. And, from what I could see, the winter was likely to be about the same as the winters I’d experienced back east — perhaps a little milder but with a little more snow. Perfect for winter sports.

Embracing Winter Sports

Back in my New York and New Jersey days, I did some cross-country skiing — although not enough to ever get good at it. I discovered just how rusty and inexperienced I was when I went cross-country skiing up in the Methow Valley for Christmas. I had a great time, but also learned that I certainly need more practice.

Back in my east coast days, I also did some sledding, tobogganing, and ice skating — but very little of all three in my adult years. (I do vividly remember dislocating my shoulder on a Girl Scout skate outing — the troop leaders were convinced I’d broken my collarbone and the X-rays showed nothing because my shoulder had popped itself back into place before they could get me to the hospital.)

But snowshoeing? That was something that people back east just never did. In fact, whenever I conjured up an image of snowshoes, I saw wooden frames similar to the business end of a tennis racket strapped onto someone’s feet. Was that from cartoons or old movies?

When I moved out here, however, everyone was talking about snowshoeing and I soon realized that it was the winter version of hiking. I love to hike — it’s great exercise and a wonderful way to spend time outdoors with friends and my dog. Surely I’d love to go snowshoeing. I put snowshoes on my Christmas wish list and my brother sent them to me — thanks, Norb! I’d already outfitted myself with all the warm winter clothes I’d need to stay cozy while out in the snow.

But what snow? That was the problem.

Where’s the Snow?

This is my first winter in north central Washington state. I was here for a week last January, just to see what it was like. There was about 4-8 inches of snow on the ground, depending on where I was. No fresh snow fell during that time, but it stayed cold enough to keep the snow from melting.

Everyone told me that it usually starts snowing in December here and that it snows periodically through January and into February. They even said that April snowstorms aren’t unusual. Surely snow must be common — after all, there’s a ski resort right outside of town!

Weatherspark Snow
Here’s what Weatherspark has to say about snowfall averages in Wenatchee.

And things did start off promising. It snowed right around the time I moved into the house I’m caring for this winter — December 1 or thereabouts. There was about 2-3 inches on the ground — not quite enough to get the driveway plowed, but enough to see my truck’s tracks in the snow. I even bought a snow shovel, which I used to push the snow off the pathway so I wouldn’t track it in the house.

But that was it. It got warm enough over time to melt all that snow away. Then very cold and warm and cold and not so cold. It was always cold enough for it to snow out — daytime temperatures hovered around 30°F — there simply wasn’t any moisture in the air.

Or, actually, there was. But it came in the form of Wenatchee’s famous winter fog.

Understand that although I do live in Washington, I don’t live anywhere near Seattle or the ocean. This fog is a completely different from what you might expect in a coastal region. It apparently forms when there’s stagnant air — indeed, we’ve been under an air stagnation advisory for nearly two weeks now. That means no wind. None at all. Air quality isn’t affected — the air is crisp and clean. But a layer of clouds forms over the valley and sometimes dips quite low. More than once, the house I’m living in now (elevation 1200 feet) was in those clouds. Another time, it was above them.

Above the Clouds
The view out my window about a month ago. Have I already shared this? I really love this shot!

For some reason, this year we’re getting lots of that fog but none of the usual snow. And it’s not just Wenatchee, which sits at about 600 feet elevation. It’s also Leavenworth, which is the closest cross-country ski and snowshoeing area. There just isn’t any snow.

Showshoeing at the Fish Hatchery

I set up a snowshoeing outing for my favorite local Meetup group, the Wenatchee Social & Outdoor Adventure Group. It was a free outing at the Leavenworth Fish Hatchery, sponsored by Friends of Northwest Hatcheries. It included a 2-hour walk along hatchery trails, guided by naturalists. Snowshoes would be provided.

Of course, I brought my own. I went with my friend Tim — who seems to know everyone everywhere we go. We got there early and Tim wasted no time chatting with one of the guides while I went to check out the salmon fry in huge tanks in their indoor facility. (I could go into a lot of detail about what they do at this hatchery, but I’ll save it for another blog post — probably one after a springtime visit to the trails.) After a while, another four people joined us. Then a second guide arrived and we were ready to go.

Although there was no snow, our guides insisted that we bring and later put on snowshoes. The trouble was the ice — everywhere the snow had melted into pools had turned into patches of ice. Some of them were quite large. All of them were pretty slippery. One of the guides, Janet, said she didn’t want to be calling any ambulances today. Apparently she’d been calling them periodically over the past few weeks.

The three of the four later arrivals — all of whom traveled from Oregon for the weekend, I might add — came without snowshoes. We stopped at a shed along the way and Janet handed them out. Then we got on the trail along Icicle Creek. When the ice began covering too much of the trail to stay off it, we put on our snowshoes and continued on our way.

Maria on Snowshoes
Tim took this picture of me in the snowiest spot we could find.

This was my first time wearing snowshoes. I didn’t have much trouble putting them on over my big Sorrel snow boots once I figured out how the straps worked. Soon I was crunch-crunch-crunching over the ice with my companions. The sound was deafening as the metal spikes at the bottom of the shoes stabbed through the ice, pushed down mercilessly by the weight of person above them. Whenever the guides wanted to tell us about something along the trail, we all had to stop and stand still just to hear them.

But what I liked most about them was that with them on my feet, I wasn’t going to slip one single inch.

We walked for about two hours stopping here and there along the trail. We learned about the various types of fir and other evergreen trees, including the incorrectly named Douglas Fir, which isn’t a fir at all. We saw tiny birds flittering about the trees over head, bear scratches on tree bark, beaver dams, and water-carved ice floes. We learned about various unusual local plants (like horsetail) and how they were originally used by the native people who once inhabited this area. I soon realized that we were on a very large and complex trail system that would be great to explore on foot in the spring, summer, or fall.

I would have taken pictures along the way, but I managed to leave my phone behind in the Jeep. That just gives me an excuse to come back with my Nikon, long lens, and monopod. Apparently the area is a prime site for bird watching, with plenty of viewing blinds along Icicle Creek. A springtime hike with Penny and my camera should be lots of fun, with plenty of photos to share.

We were back at the Visitor Center by 3 PM and heading back to Wenatchee a while later. I was glad to have had the chance to finally give my snowshoes a try. Tim tells me they’re a lot more fun when there’s a nice deep base of snow. Somehow, however, I suspect I’ll have to wait until next year to experience that.

The Hidden Lake Adventure

A short hike with a twist at the end.

I belong to several Meetup groups in the Wenatchee area, including the Weekly Hikes group — which doesn’t actually do hikes weekly. (As a matter of fact most of the Meetup groups I belong to in the Wenatchee area don’t do anything regularly, but I’m working on that in one group.) Len, a member of the Weekly Hikes group who lives up in the Leavenworth area, suggested a hike up to Hidden Lake, near Lake Wenatchee. I suggested it to my friend, Tim, who joined the group. The three of us did the hike on Saturday.

Tim and I drove up to the Park and Ride at “The Y” (where Route 97 breaks away from Route 2) with our two dogs in my Jeep. When Len arrived to meet us, he suggested going in his truck. I had no problem with that. Not only was it new and comfortable, but it would be a lot quieter than my Jeep. It also gave us the added benefit of getting to know each other before the hike. It would be at least a 30 minute drive to the trailhead. So we loaded our stuff and dogs into the truck and headed to Lake Wenatchee.

It was a nice drive with good conversation, mostly about Meetup groups and activities in the area. We all have one thing in common: we’re divorced and interested in meeting people to do things with — and form new, more intimate relationships. Our ages are pretty close, too, so we’re all on pretty much the same page. It was a pleasure to just chat with interesting people about things that matter to all of us.

One thing we talked about a lot was the snow — or lack of it. This is my first full winter in the Wenatchee area, so I really don’t know what to expect. But most folks have been telling me that there’s usually a lot more snow by this time of year, especially up near Leavenworth and Lake Wenatchee. Although we did pass the Tumwater Campground, which was closed for camping but open for cross-country skiing and we did see some people there on skis, conditions looked pretty bad and very icy.

The Wenatchee River, which we drove along for quite some time, looked great. Lots of water rushing through and around icy patches. It was still pretty cold that day — I don’t think it got above freezing in the shade — but I’m sure there was ice and snow melting in the sunlight somewhere upriver. As Len pointed out, we’re going to be in big trouble if we don’t get more snow on the mountains before spring. Yes, there’s a lot more water in Central Washington than there was in Arizona, but it still mostly comes from snowmelt. We don’t get the kind of rain they get on the coast.

We made the turn off Route 2 toward Lake Wenatchee. We passed by several campgrounds that were closed and full of ice but had very little snow. We followed Cedar Brae Road, which wound up along the south shore of Lake Wenatchee. It was quiet and the glimpses I caught of the lake between the tall pine trees and vacation homes showed smooth, glassy water. The pavement ended and the gravel road that continued into the forest had icy patches. The road got narrower and narrower. Then Len made a left turn down a short drive and parked at the Hidden Lake Trailhead.

Hidden Lake Trailhead
Here’s where the trailhead is in relation to Lake Wenatchee. This Google Maps terrain image even shows the trail that winds up to the lake.

We got out and organized our gear. I was warmly dressed in my new Under Armor ColdGear shirt and leggings with a sweatshirt and water proof shell on top and a pair of Under Armor outer layer pants on bottom. I was also wearing thick wool socks and my new Sorel boots, which I’d only worn briefly once so far. And I had a pair of YakTrax Pros in my daypack, just in case I needed more traction. My Buff, which I’d worn as a neck cover, could be pulled up to make a balaclava — which is exactly what I wound up doing. I had some more clothes in my daypack, along with some snacks and my Nikon camera.

While the guys used the pit toilet, I put Penny’s parka on her. I had her boots in my daypack, but because there was no snow, I didn’t think she’d need them. My daypack had enough free space to put her in there if she got so cold that she needed to be carried.

There was no snow. None at all. It was weird. We were at about 2100 feet elevation and it was winter in the mountains but there was no snow.

There were lots of fallen trees, though. As we began the hike up the trail, Len told us about a hike he’d done earlier in the season on the other side of Lake Wenatchee, on Dirty Face Mountain. There had been some heavy wind and he heard a loud crack sound. A tree about 30 feet away broke in two halfway up and came crashing down near him. He said that it happened almost in slow motion so he didn’t really feel any danger, but it was still scary. The situation was serious enough to warrant an article in the Wenatchee World about the danger, especially after two people were killed when a falling tree fell on their vehicle near Stevens Pass.

Dirty Face Peak
This is the best shot I could get of Dirty Face — there were just too many trees in the way!

The forest was full of huge pines that stretched straight up to the sky. The trail was clear — someone with a chainsaw had been busy cutting away any tree trucks that had blocked it. Although we were totally in the shade, the sun shone brightly on the granite rocks of Dirty Face, across the lake. It dominated the landscape on that side, with just enough snow to make it picture postcard perfect — if I could get a shot of it through the trees.

The trail was icy in places, but not icy enough to put on my YakTrax. Penny and Tim’s dog, Banjo, ran ahead of us on the trail, making occasional forays into the forest on either side of the trail. At one point, Banjo stood stubbornly at the base of a tree, looking up. There was a squirrel up there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a squirrel out in the winter time.

Hidden Lake was completely covered with thick ice. A big family with kids was standing near the shore. Banjo wasted no time bringing a stick for the kids to throw and they wasted no time throwing it. Banjo didn’t seem the least bit concerned about running on the ice, but Penny stayed clear — at least in the beginning.

Hidden Lake
Hidden Lake was frozen. Although it was a bright, sunny day, it was gray over the lake in the shadows of the mountains to the south. I doubt if the lake ever sees the sun this time of year.

Our group of three gathered at a huge fallen log, where Len set up a camp stove and boiled water for hot cocoa. We talked about camping and laughed about eating things while camping — like instant hot cocoa out of semi-clean cups — that we’d never dream of eating at home. The only thing I had to drink cocoa from was the collapsable water bowl I’d brought along for Penny. I gave it a quick rinse and mixed cocoa in it without a second thought. Later, I rinsed it again and filled it with cold water from my pack for Banjo and Penny.

We spent about an hour there at the lake. The family hiked around, then left back down the trail. A couple carrying a baby came up, walked around briefly, and left.

Gaia GPS Hidden Lake
Here’s what Hidden Lake looked like on Gaia GPS with our track shown. This may have been the first time in my life that I walked across a frozen lake.

All the time we were there, we heard rushing water across the lake but had no idea where the sound was coming from. I had the Gaia GPS app on my phone and had loaded it in advance with topo maps of the area. It showed two streams across the lake, but we couldn’t see either one. There was no trail on the other side; the steep hill came right down to the water’s edge. With lots of footprints already on the lake’s icy surface, we decided to explore. Cautiously, at first, we ventured out onto the ice. It looked to be at least four to six inches thick. Slowly, we made our way across the ice, looking at the huge cracks that ran here and there across its surface. Finally, nearly on the other side, we saw the stream that was making all the noise. It wasn’t very big; it must have been the shape of the land around us that magnified the sound.

We packed up and headed back down the trail a little while later. The hike was pretty much uneventful.

At the truck, however, there was a problem: Len’s keyless entry fob would not work.

At first, we thought it might just have a cold battery. He warmed it up in his pocket and in his hand. No joy. It soon became clear that we’d need to summon help. Len has AAA and hiked down the road a bit to get a better cell phone signal so he could call.

Campfire
Len finally got this fire going. We would have made a better fire pit, but the rocks were frozen to the ground.

Although we weren’t cold — yet — Tim and I tried to start a fire for warmth. There was plenty of wood — why isn’t there this much wood when I go camping? Trouble was, it was all frosty wet. We couldn’t even get pine needles to catch. We tried a few times and pretty much gave up. I discovered along the way that my business cards are apparently fireproof. (Note to self: add waterproof matches and fire starter to emergency kit.)

Len to the rescue! When he got back from making his call, he gave it a try, using some toilet paper he had in a plastic bag in his pack as a starter. The dry paper did the trick. Although the fire got off to a slow start, by the time help arrived 90 minutes later, the fire was burning well enough for Penny and I to sit beside it for warmth.

The tow company guy used an inflatable pouch to open a crack in the window. He then inserted a wire device to grab the door lock and pull it up. (Seriously: when you see how easy it is to break into a vehicle with the right tools, you wonder why you bother to lock it at all.) The alarm sounded immediately, but Len shut it down quickly. A short while later, we were on the road, heading back toward Leavenworth and the Y.

The Three Hikers
We posed for a picture before heading out. Left to right: me, Tim, Len. I’m holding Penny and Banjo is on the ground.

Len dropped us off, thanking us for our patience. It wasn’t a big deal to me. The bad key fob had turned a short hike into a little adventure. My gear kept me warm enough and I had plenty to snack on.

Tim and I got back into my Jeep with the dogs and our gear. We made one stop on the way back to Wenatchee: Country Boys BBQ in Cashmere. Great food!

It had been a nice day out with friends. Funny how I’d been afraid of winter when I first decided to spend the winter here. I’m not afraid anymore. With the right gear and friends to spend time with, it’s all good.

A Christmas Ski Trip, Prelude: The Plan

A great way to avoid holiday headaches.

This was the first Christmas holiday in my life that I didn’t have plans to visit family or friends. I’d gotten a number of invitations — all of which required out-of-state travel — and for various reasons, had to turn them down. About two weeks ago is when I realized that I’d likely be alone for Christmas. But rather than be glum about it — as people who need companionship might be — I rejoiced in the freedom it gave me.

Yes, for the first time in my life, I could spend the Christmas holiday the way I wanted to.

Fond Remembrances of Christmas Past

Oddly, my favorite Christmases were the ones I spent alone with my wasband, either at home or at our cabin on Howard Mesa. At home, we’d exchange gifts and do something during the day, like a Jeep ride with cameras out in the desert. In the evening, we’d settle down after a good dinner in front of the fire.

The Howard Mesa trips, like this one, were especially memorable. I remember one Christmas dinner in El Tovar’s private dining room at the Grand Canyon when we were joined by people I thought were friends; one of them looked ever-so-sexy in a kilt.

Simple Christmases were always the best, especially when you could spend them with people you loved.

No responsibilities, no traffic, no pretending to enjoy the company of people I’d simply prefer not to be with. No buying gifts for people I barely know, no receiving gifts from people who feel a need to spend the budgeted amount on me and don’t really care whether the thing they give me is something I might like. (Hint: Save your money; I’ll like/respect you more if you skip the gift than if you give me something stupid that I hate.) No listening to complaints or arguments or political rants, no dealing with kids or grandkids or misbehaved pets. No eating “casseroles” that came out of a bunch of cans; no eating desert that includes Cool Whip or other petroleum products. No guests that complain incessantly about their accommodations — when they refused to stay in your home and expect you to pick up the tab for their hotel.

Don’t get me wrong — I’ve had many pleasant Christmases with family and/or friends in the past. They’re usually relaxing and fun with the emphasis on enjoying each other’s company and taking pleasure out of sharing just the right gifts. Alcohol is often involved.

But I’ve also had some remarkably crappy ones, some of which were with people I’m very glad I’ll never have to see again. And they’re likely just as glad that they won’t have to see me.

Why do we pretend to like the holiday bullshit when we so often don’t? More times than not — at least in my past — it’s been an ordeal better skipped.

And that’s the best thing about being single: not having to “compromise” with a partner so his responsibilities become yours.

But the question remained: what would I do for Christmas?

The Plan

It didn’t take long to come up with a plan. I definitely wanted to go away for the holiday, but I didn’t want to go far. I wanted to go someplace that wouldn’t cost a fortune, someplace with a mix of privacy and small crowds. Someplace I could get out and do something active — I’d been spending far too much time this season sitting on my butt.

The answer came from a friend. She knew I was itching to get out on my new cross-country skis and snowfall had been unseasonably low in our area. “Have you checked out MVSTA?” she asked.

MVSTA LogoA tiny bit of research led me to the website for the Methow Valley Sport Trails Association. The MVSTA is, as it proudly proclaims on its website’s home page, “the Nation’s Largest Cross-Country Ski Area.”

The Methow Valley is a long, beautiful valley that runs up the Methow River. There are a few towns along the way: Methow and Carlton, which really don’t have much to offer, Twisp, Winthrop, and Mazama. Winthrop, which was the big town in the area, was about 50 miles up the road — route 153 and then route 20 — and just 90 miles from where I lived. Driving there would be the equivalent of driving to Sedona from my old house in Arizona. If I continued on route 20, the scenic North Cascades Highway, I’d wind through the Cascade Mountains and end up north of Seattle. It’s not possible in the winter when snow closes down the passes, but I’ve got a friend who’s promised to do the trip with me on motorcycles in September.

I’d been up the Methow once before. Back in 2008 I’d spent 10 days working in Pateros, WA, on a cherry drying contract. Pateros was the little town at the confluence of the Methow and Columbia Rivers. It was summer then and I’d driven with my wasband 65 miles, all the way up to Mazama, with stops at Twisp and Winthrop along the way. My wasband had bought me a little handmade silver ring in a gallery in Twisp. It was the last piece of jewelry he ever bought me.

Revisiting the area would be a good idea. I’d make new memories on my own terms. The fact that it was winter instead of summer and I was going for more than just a day trip would help. Besides: there was plenty of cross-country skiing in the area on groomed trails. I’d never skied on groomed trails before and looked forward to it.

I made a few phone calls and wound up booking a loft cabin about six miles outside of Winthrop. I chose the place because it met my requirements for quiet and privacy and it allowed dogs. And it wouldn’t break the bank. I took it for two nights — Christmas Eve and Christmas — and paid in advance.

Then I called around to see if I could get a cross-country skiing lesson on Christmas Eve. Sure, the first company I called told me. They’d be open Christmas Eve and probably even Christmas Day. But there wasn’t much snow yet; there might not be enough for skiing.

Duh-oh!

But there was no turning back. I could see from the MVSTA website that even if there wasn’t enough snow for skiing or snowshoeing, there were still plenty of trails for hiking. When life gives you lemons…

(continued)