Leslie has a major thing for porches. To her, they symbolize tranquility, family, good conversation, warm weather–all very different things, but also connectable.
So whenever she sees a porch well-fitted with comfortable chairs, especially rockers, she’s seeing smiles, and chit-chat floating through the air on hot afternoons or moonlit evenings, even if the chairs are unoccupied or the snow is knee-deep.
She’s glad she lives in EM. This town embraces porch-living epic-ly.
This sweet craft surely must be the lake mascot. Summer is truly in swing when the Hardly Able begins its daily tours. At the end of the season, all the little grateful sailors grab sponges and soap and scour her hull before she is tucked into her cozy bed for the winter.
Have you ever wondered what the Hardly’s bedroom looks like? It’s not easy to tell by looking through the windows– if you dare get that close to the dirty, spider-webby glass!
Even if you’re brave, you’re still likely to be disappointed because it’s so dark in there! (Well, who likes to sleep with the lights on?)Keep rambling....
It’s got all of the character of a great old lady who knows she’s past her prime, but won’t admit it. She stubbornly refuses to modernize her look. She doesn’t get her facts right most of the time anymore, but her beauty and charm cause us to overlook those minor flaws.
She’s more useful these days as a cheerful welcome to all who approach town, whether the visitor whose heard of this Town-Time-Forgot place and is now assured of its truth (because thanks to her, time truly stands still), or the world-weary summer person whose heart sings at sight of her, knowing he’s at last left the grind behind.Keep rambling....
Did the Weather Channel know that naming a storm “Stella” would make tagline creation so simple? “Stella: One Helluva” Gosh, that was as easy as a Staples button-push!
They began predicting this She-devil a week in advance. Betting pools pitted American models against European models. Weather weenies like us were glued to our screens like they were smeared with cocaine. Sadly for us, hope for a knock-out against the mountains waned as the days slipped by.
More and more it looked like the Big Cities were going to be the Big Victims, and as such were in a state of total meltdown. We didn’t even have to be there; we’ve lived there long enough to know. Bread and toilet paper would become currency. Salt and shovels would be front and center in, of all places, drug stores. You’d think city-dwellers in the Mid-Atlantic hadn’t encountered a snowstorm since the last Ice Age.
So if there’s going to be a record snowfall, let it be in the mountains and let the Flatlanders battle their rush hours in peace. It would have been easier if the storm’s path hadn’t taken a sharp left turn only eighteen hours prior to hitting. But thanks to the aplomb which mountain folks have toward natural events, we “weathered” it pretty well.