I think by now we’ve lamented long enough over the lack of snow that Mother Nature has deemed to send us this winter (or not) … I know I have. But looking westward toward the Olympic games, I think we’d agree that it could be a lot worse. Fortunately, due to a strange phenomenon that produces that little quirk of nature known as the Mountain Snow Effect, our neighbors here at Great Glen Trails and Bretton Woods have been getting beautiful fluffy snow almost daily, and skiing of all kinds is just great! Who would have thought it by looking outside ... a view which gives every indication to the contrary? Looks can definitely be deceiving! Though only a few miles apart as the crow flies and on opposite sides of Mount Washington, the morning snow reports from each area herald really fine conditions. But what are infinitely more valuable, are the first hand accounts coming in from our guests as they return to The Lodge each afternoon for cookies and hot cider after a hearty day of skiing. All tuckered out as they relax in front of the fireplace, their glowing reports of the excellent ski conditions seem to match the rosiness of their cheeks!
You find us today on the home-stretch here, winding up a fantastic Vacation week where we’ve had lots and lots of last minute visitors and a record number of walk-in guests. This year both Massachusetts and New Hampshire’s vacation weeks kicked off at the same time, starting with last weekend and Valentines Day. We had the largest number of Romance packages ever, and guess what? We even had a guest propose on Saturday night!! (… and even better, she said "YES"!). There are still lots of lovely flower arrangements and vases of roses around The Lodge everywhere, left over from all those romantic occasions. This morning a guest commented on them to my husband, telling him that I must like flowers! Putting him on the spot (since I was within earshot), he asked Dana if he knew what my favorite flower was. At the time I was whizzing by with the latest tray of cinnamon rolls, hot from the oven, and without missing a beat, my husband said, “Gold Medal”! I thought that was a pretty quick comeback for so early in the morning!!
We may be into our 6th year as innkeepers, but we’re only just now beginning to unpack our former ‘New York life’ and unearth a few of the relics of our past. Hidden away out of sight we have a large storage trailer filled to the brim with everything we owned before the Big Move. Up until now we’ve been too busy to unpack any of it. I guess that’s a commentary on how much one really needs, as compared to how much one has or wants. I have to admit that the only things I’ve truly missed in all this time are some of my books. (Confession: I am a total bookaholic). Anyway, I had a chance to go through some of them yesterday, and to my joy, I found a book I’ve thought of many times these last few years called Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elizabeth Pruitt Stewart. I’ve read it half a dozen times over the years -- and now I can boast yet another reading of this wonderful collection of letters written by a woman homesteader in Wyoming at the turn of the century. Besides being one of my favorite easy reads, I’m sharing this book with you for a couple of reasons. I started out today’s blog by saying that we’ve lamented long enough over the lack of snow. Sometimes, complaining is so much a part of our everyday vocabularies, that often without our even being aware, it becomes a habit that we don’t even notice. “Too much snow or not enough; too hot or too cold; a bad economy, rain on our day off”, or one of a multitude of other fill-in-the-blank reasons to be unhappy with our circumstances. When I catch myself doing it, I try to make that a reality checkpoint for me, and now, having read Elinor Pruitt’s amazing book once again, I am ashamed that I fall into the trap as often as I do.
This fascinating collection of letters spans a period of 4 years, during which time she proved herself tenacious, resourceful and kind, with an eye toward adventures of all kinds. Pruitt once got caught for days in a mountain snowstorm 40 miles from home while on an errand of mercy; she lost a precious child at birth; she survived a midnight raid by horse thieves, was a victim of an avalanche … But in turns she also birthed four children, and was midwife, doctor, teacher, and friend to every neighbor within a hundred mile radius (an area so unpopulated that they could be counted on both hands). Elinor proves that even within the confines of the workaday world of a prairie ranch she could live expansively. What strikes me most was not the distances she covered but how far-reaching was the greatness of her spirit and her ability under extremely adverse circumstances to see the glass half full. She writes to a good friend: “To me homesteading is the solution to all poverty’s problems, but I realize that temperament has as much to do with its success as in any undertaking … persons afraid of coyotes and work and loneliness had better let ranching alone. However, any woman who can stand her own company, can see the beauty of a sunset, loves growing things, and is willing to put as much time at careful labor as she does over the washtub will certainly succeed. She will have independence, plenty to eat and a home of her own in the end.”
This is not a story of adversity, solitude, sorrow or struggle, although these things are innately woven into the very fabric of prairie life. Instead it is about how to find plentitude in scarcity and happiness in the moment, despite what might be happening all around you at the time. No other account I’ve ever read of frontier life has come close to this very personal example of neighborliness, community, charity and a tenaciousness fueled not by stoicism but by simple joy. She continues in a letter to her friend, “When you think of me you must think of one who is truly happy. It is true, I want for a great many things I haven’t got, but I don’t want them enough to be discontented and not enjoy the blessings that are mine. I have my home among the blue mountains, my healthy well-formed children, my clean honest husband, my kind gentle milk cows, my garden which I make myself. There are lots of chickens, turkeys and pigs which are under my own special care. I have some slow old gentle horses and an old wagon. I can load up the kiddies and go where I please any time. I have the best kindest neighbors and my dear absent friends. Do you wonder why I am so happy? When I think of it all, I wonder how I can crowd all my joy into one short life.”
You find us today on the home-stretch here, winding up a fantastic Vacation week where we’ve had lots and lots of last minute visitors and a record number of walk-in guests. This year both Massachusetts and New Hampshire’s vacation weeks kicked off at the same time, starting with last weekend and Valentines Day. We had the largest number of Romance packages ever, and guess what? We even had a guest propose on Saturday night!! (… and even better, she said "YES"!). There are still lots of lovely flower arrangements and vases of roses around The Lodge everywhere, left over from all those romantic occasions. This morning a guest commented on them to my husband, telling him that I must like flowers! Putting him on the spot (since I was within earshot), he asked Dana if he knew what my favorite flower was. At the time I was whizzing by with the latest tray of cinnamon rolls, hot from the oven, and without missing a beat, my husband said, “Gold Medal”! I thought that was a pretty quick comeback for so early in the morning!!
We may be into our 6th year as innkeepers, but we’re only just now beginning to unpack our former ‘New York life’ and unearth a few of the relics of our past. Hidden away out of sight we have a large storage trailer filled to the brim with everything we owned before the Big Move. Up until now we’ve been too busy to unpack any of it. I guess that’s a commentary on how much one really needs, as compared to how much one has or wants. I have to admit that the only things I’ve truly missed in all this time are some of my books. (Confession: I am a total bookaholic). Anyway, I had a chance to go through some of them yesterday, and to my joy, I found a book I’ve thought of many times these last few years called Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elizabeth Pruitt Stewart. I’ve read it half a dozen times over the years -- and now I can boast yet another reading of this wonderful collection of letters written by a woman homesteader in Wyoming at the turn of the century. Besides being one of my favorite easy reads, I’m sharing this book with you for a couple of reasons. I started out today’s blog by saying that we’ve lamented long enough over the lack of snow. Sometimes, complaining is so much a part of our everyday vocabularies, that often without our even being aware, it becomes a habit that we don’t even notice. “Too much snow or not enough; too hot or too cold; a bad economy, rain on our day off”, or one of a multitude of other fill-in-the-blank reasons to be unhappy with our circumstances. When I catch myself doing it, I try to make that a reality checkpoint for me, and now, having read Elinor Pruitt’s amazing book once again, I am ashamed that I fall into the trap as often as I do.
This fascinating collection of letters spans a period of 4 years, during which time she proved herself tenacious, resourceful and kind, with an eye toward adventures of all kinds. Pruitt once got caught for days in a mountain snowstorm 40 miles from home while on an errand of mercy; she lost a precious child at birth; she survived a midnight raid by horse thieves, was a victim of an avalanche … But in turns she also birthed four children, and was midwife, doctor, teacher, and friend to every neighbor within a hundred mile radius (an area so unpopulated that they could be counted on both hands). Elinor proves that even within the confines of the workaday world of a prairie ranch she could live expansively. What strikes me most was not the distances she covered but how far-reaching was the greatness of her spirit and her ability under extremely adverse circumstances to see the glass half full. She writes to a good friend: “To me homesteading is the solution to all poverty’s problems, but I realize that temperament has as much to do with its success as in any undertaking … persons afraid of coyotes and work and loneliness had better let ranching alone. However, any woman who can stand her own company, can see the beauty of a sunset, loves growing things, and is willing to put as much time at careful labor as she does over the washtub will certainly succeed. She will have independence, plenty to eat and a home of her own in the end.”
This is not a story of adversity, solitude, sorrow or struggle, although these things are innately woven into the very fabric of prairie life. Instead it is about how to find plentitude in scarcity and happiness in the moment, despite what might be happening all around you at the time. No other account I’ve ever read of frontier life has come close to this very personal example of neighborliness, community, charity and a tenaciousness fueled not by stoicism but by simple joy. She continues in a letter to her friend, “When you think of me you must think of one who is truly happy. It is true, I want for a great many things I haven’t got, but I don’t want them enough to be discontented and not enjoy the blessings that are mine. I have my home among the blue mountains, my healthy well-formed children, my clean honest husband, my kind gentle milk cows, my garden which I make myself. There are lots of chickens, turkeys and pigs which are under my own special care. I have some slow old gentle horses and an old wagon. I can load up the kiddies and go where I please any time. I have the best kindest neighbors and my dear absent friends. Do you wonder why I am so happy? When I think of it all, I wonder how I can crowd all my joy into one short life.”
Wouldn’t it be a miracle if we all felt that way with just half of her burdens?
I like to think I’m a positive person, but I know I fall dreadfully short at times. For myself, with Elinor’s shining example as an inspiration, I am going to try to stop complaining about things when the urge hits. Imagine if we all eliminated just one negative comment each day, what a better place this world would be. In fact, we might even begin to see that it has been pretty great all along!
I like to think I’m a positive person, but I know I fall dreadfully short at times. For myself, with Elinor’s shining example as an inspiration, I am going to try to stop complaining about things when the urge hits. Imagine if we all eliminated just one negative comment each day, what a better place this world would be. In fact, we might even begin to see that it has been pretty great all along!
