Bigelow Hollow State Park

Written by Adam

The day started off rainy and chilly, so the obligatory fire was warming the hearth. 

Our only goal set for the day was a venture into Bigelow Hollow State Park located in Union, Connecticut.

Combined with the Nipmuck State Forest, Bigelow Hollow is a beautiful park with plenty of forest and  water formations to enjoy. Hiking, fishing, boating, and picnicking with plenty of parking are all available. There is a fee in season, but not now during arguably the best time to be hiking. The day was cool and cloudy, but comfortable with shots of sunshine. Another plus was the noticeable absence of mosquitoes.

We parked at the main boat launch at Mashapaug Lake to enjoy a quick lunch while watching the unique collection of people meander through, from a forgotten 80's rocker to an elderly Rastafarian-ish fisherman and his toddler grandson. The view from the parking lot and boat launch was postcard, and the fresh smell of forest was in the air.

There are long trails throughout the park/forest for great day hiking trips, but a few were difficult to locate. We don't mind exploring a bit so we chose a trail head with no cars around and headed off. It became evident why no cars were parked in this area. After two hundred yards or so, a small beaver dam had allowed substantial flooding over the trail. Normally we would wade through, but it was early in the hike and we still had the canoe trip in mind. A brief reconnaissance around the flooded area proved fruitless, so we headed back to the boat launch to hike on one of the popular trails.

The main trail was easy to hike and well maintained. It followed the curving shore of Mashapaug Lake to an impressive picnic area with tables and fire pits. I imagine the place is very busy in season, but for now it was deserted. 

Sadly, the litter was dominant, a disturbing theme that seems increasingly common. I stuffed wads of fishing line in my pockets and gathered up broken glass, but there was too much for me to handle.  Unfortunate to say the least, because the view across the lake is surprisingly grand, but who wants to sit in a landfill to enjoy it?

The forest trail stayed close to the lake  with excellent signage and bridges over mucky areas. Again the litter really detracted from the beauty of the place. Honestly, if you are going to litter, at least drop it on the trail instead of throwing into the brush so others can pick it up with ease.

We arrived at another picnic area comprised of a giant rock face rising from the water - the perfect place to sit and reflect. I watched a fisherman cruise the far shore, casting his line with no result. I will wager that he felt silently floating on a placid lake catching nothing is still the best fishing anywhere.

After a quick wade in the water, we hiked back to the parking lot and unloaded the canoe. The dog joined us for the hike (her pathetic look while waiting by the front door led to me being outvoted), though we thought it was better if she remained on shore, Heather stayed behind with her. Emily and I quickly set off for an easy float. Have I mentioned how much I love that canoe? 

We coasted silently along the shore, searching for anything of interest - small fish, snapping turtles, sunken ships and the like. We paddled hard and fast only to have Emily hit the brakes, turning us in a sharp arc much to my feigned chagrin. We drifted, experimented with the current, made navigational mistakes and executed incredible evasive maneuvers.  We discussed the effects of lightning on our small craft, and more importantly ourselves. 

We were out for only forty minutes or so, but what a ride.

It was late afternoon when we loaded up and left. We spotted a wandering dog on our way out. No collar and seemingly lost, we stopped and watched it while discussing whether to leave it be or not. The dog was neatly groomed, well fed, and predictable. 

It was decided that the dog had to be dealt with (outvoted again) and I whistled. The dog came right over and enthusiastically introduced himself. Using a spare leash, I led this mild-mannered canine off the road and called the local warden. Sadly, the warden informed us that this looked like a dump and run situation. Unbelievable. 

We ended the day with some of the best ice cream in the Northeast. In warm, freshly made waffle cones no less. 

It is October in New England, and the outdoors beckons. 

Do you have an autumn hike or activity that is a favorite in your area?

Nice Day at Home

Written by Adam

Here's a great day:

1. Wake up an hour later than usual and be okay with it.
2. Make a breakfast of warm apple pie and Haagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream coupled with the Sunday paper. 
3. Take a "break" from lounging and do something constructive though completely unnecessary.
4. Have a big midday meal followed by the aforementioned pie and ice cream, go back to the paper.
5. Wander around and do something else, come back for pepperoni, cheese and crackers, more of that pie and ice cream, and the paper. 
6. Repeat number five until bedtime.

That is how my Sunday unfolded, though I planned otherwise. My plans originally revolved around a day hike in the Yale Forest area of Connecticut. 

The Yale Forest is conveniently located near Bigelow Hollow State Park. I thought a day on the Nipmuck Trail followed by some canoeing on Mashapaug Lake would work out nicely. I even planned a bit of a picnic. Heather has hinted that it's wonderful to take a break from food preparation duties once in awhile. No problem, I can cook.

Well, Sunday rolled around and it was hot and muggy and I was feeling like a day at home instead. The appropriate people agreed with my assessment and that was that. A little flexibility goes a long way in our lives.

A quick trip to the store and I picked up the food items I had in mind for our hike, to have at home instead. I planned my old standbys - roasted chicken and macaroni salad. They work for picnics because they can be prepared ahead of time and taste good cold. Add some green salad and a few nibblers (for example, cheese, crackers, sliced fruit) and we are good to go for the day, on the trail or at home.

I also picked up a copy of the New York Times to peruse. I know e-readers and online news are the wave of the future, but I love sitting around reading the Sunday paper. 

Once home with my parcels, Heather and I retired to the living room (Emily still sleeping) to enjoy warm apple pie, ice cream for me, and the newspaper. Unconventional breakfast fare perhaps, but highly enjoyable. That set the tempo for the day. I had a few things that needed attention but really looked forward to a come-what-may day.

Having decided to stay home, my idea was to have a big lunch cover the bulk of the dining for the day. Grazing here and there all morning, have the big meal around noontime, then browse the rest of day on the leftovers and snacks. It was so simple to prepare the chicken and macaroni salad, I have no excuse for not doing it more often.

I filled the day with easy tasks - reading the paper, splitting and stacking firewood, bathing the dog. That newspaper consumed a good part of the day and I have yet to finish it. I find Internet news articles to be okay for a flash of information, but rarely do I read a whole article. Furthermore, I notice some Internet articles are there just for the scoop - a snippet of a story but no facts or in-depth information. It is disappointing. 

I need to remember to keep the Sunday paper coming. It is one more link to an era when, because things took more time, we had more time.

Next week ambition will rule the day. We have a full weekend of activities, and the foliage is starting its march across our area. Perfect time to take my planned hike and get back outdoors.

How was your weekend?

Pre-Autumn Sunday

Written by Adam

To everyone who emailed and left comments about joining our group of writers - we'll be in touch later this week. 

We've had a great response, thank you!

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Work week.

Sunday.

I have to figure out how to make the Sunday replace the work week.

I sure do love Sunday. The powers that be misplaced my smartphone sometime Saturday evening to be sure temptation was nowhere to be found all day Sunday. We are entering my favorite time of year in New England and non-stop outdoor activity will fill the calendar from here on out.

New England has true changing seasons. Winter is really winter, followed by Spring that arrives with blossoms, an unmistakable scent in the air and the infamous mud season in the northern locales. Sometimes there is a blur of spring into summer, but the end of school helps darken the line. Summer to fall again has distinct boundaries leaving no doubt change is in the air.

Autumn is my favorite time of year. The temperatures are perfect. The scenery spectacular. Biting insects on the decline (though  a week ago they were out in force for a final assault). The harvest festivals and country fairs. Cool mountain hikes culminating in warming sunrises and foliage vistas. Steel toed boots and flannel shirts smelling of fresh sawdust. The swing of the splitting maul and scent of fresh stacked wood. Fall reverses the clock and takes us back to the land and our heritage. I look forward to it all with great anticipation.

This year's transition happened in the last couple of days. We awoke to a less than subtle forty degrees on the old thermometer. That is about a twenty-five degree drop from a few days ago. Fortunately, we are always ready for such an occurrence and quickly had a fire in the hearth. 

I have a special place in my heart for fire. Fire is primal, the key to human survival. Fire appeals to the senses  - crackling logs, hints of woodsmoke, vibrant orange, red and blue flames, radiant warmth. Food roasted over an open flame is unrivaled. Fire is safety, security, and home. 

Therefore, save the unfortunate instances of dormitory or apartment residence, I have always lived with a fireplace in my house. It is a domicile prerequisite, slightly below a suitable roof and just ahead of indoor plumbing. Woodstoves have a similar effect, but I've had disagreements with them in the past and prefer open fires.

After a breakfast of hot apple pie, we lightly scheduled the day. We expected perfect temps and arranged ourselves for a favorite hike at the Ruby Fenton Preserve. We've mentioned this hike before, but it bears repeating - it is quintessential New England. Hardwood groves, bubbling streams and beaver ponds, meadows of golden rod and thickets, low human attendance.  I don't mean to gush, but in Connecticut it is a welcome oasis.

Another great thing is the trail guide provided for identification of key features. The guide reminds me that nature is not just for my viewing pleasure. Nature is working hard to sustain life. For example, the guide indicates an area of red oak that may be considered "waste." From an economic perspective perhaps, but it is vital to the ecosystem - controlling erosion, purifying the water, and providing food and shelter for various wildlife. Waste indeed. Only someone removed from the process would misinterpret its worth.

We easily passed through the woods, waded in the stream, and explored the flood plains left by the recent storm. Even the hurricane plays a part in natural renewal. Old weak trees are removed to allow the undergrowth to thrive. Flooded areas leave vernal pools teaming with amphibians. Pretty fantastic stuff.

We ended with a cornucopia picnic. Gala apples we picked Saturday, cheeses from Sugarbush Farm in Woodstock, Vermont, sour dough bread and olive oil, various nuts and chocolate covered pretzels, and fellowship with our neighbors who joined us for some outdoor time. We sat by the beaver pond, watching a mallard watching us. Light breezes and warm sunshine completed a perfect pre-autumn day.

Late afternoon saw us at home with another perfect fire, a stack of Vermont nature guides and the Backpacker Gear Guide. Just "chillaxing" as all the kids say. It was everything we want Unplugged Sunday to be. 

Of course, I included some mental preparation for this - 

I really need to make Unplugged Sunday include Monday. Probably Tuesday as well. And Wednesday....

Remembrance

Written by Adam

Ten years ago I entered my Copyright Law class, sat down and prepared for an hour of lecture. Then I overheard another student say, "we've just been attacked." It took a little time for the student body to gather in the lounge and witness the events unfolding on the newscast.

After the second tower collapsed, I was in the car making the hour long commute home. It was an unbelievable day of shock, anger and dismay. Shock that fanatics think innocent lives are expendable. Anger that something so heinous had happened. Dismay for what we knew the future held.

At first we did not know how to process the event, or what to do next. Within a few days we had an idea. Our reaction to the uncertainty and disbelief was to go camping in Vermont. 

You went camping at a time of crisis? Yes, that is exactly what we did. The essence of our trip was to step back and ground ourselves before deciding how to move forward. The world was going off the rails, so we jumped off the train for a bit to make sure we were headed in the right direction.

It was the best thing to do. It was quiet, beautiful, solemn and appropriate. At the time, we did not have WIFI, laptops, or smartphones. We were able to freely meditate, without undue distraction or influence.

The trip reminded us that there is a sunrise and a sunset. Mountains can be climbed or not. You can take a hike or turn around if the trail isn't right for you. Backpacks with three year old kids in them are heavy, but fun. Hot cocoa is always worth smiling about. 

Tomorrow is another day - make it everything you want it to be.

We went back to the woods yesterday. No long excursions in the Vermont mountains, just a quick hike to a favorite river that ran full and fast. We were alone in the forest with the river providing the melody of nature.

Emily plunged in and explored, challenging the current and herself. Heather and I sat on large boulders and watched. The dog swam and stank like old skunk and wet fur. There were no smart phones, lap tops, WIFI, radio or television. And it was just what we needed.

We pray for the hurt, the lost, and the broken. We lift up the needy, hold up the weak. We freely give smiles and wipe away tears. We remember that even on a day of extreme tragedy, there are heroes and miracles. We move forward with grace, love and care.

Go back to your lives, citizens.

Written by Adam

We rejoined "civilized" society in the evening hours of September 4th after about eight days of living pre-Edison. Many areas had power restored immediately or never lost it, while others took an abnormally long time to get back online.

If you had electricity, life maintained its regular pace, while the rest of us suffered through the redundancy of our plight. "Have power yet? No? I don't know how you are managing. Have power yet? No? I don't know how you are managing. Have power yet..."

We managed quite well, thank you. Aside from hot water, refrigeration and Internet access, there was nothing really missing from our comfort. Television? There is nothing on anyway. Lights? We don't need no stinking lights! Vacuuming? What for?





We went to bed at dark, reading by headlamp or candlelight. We awoke when it was light out.  Early to bed, early to rise, that sort of thing. We had evenings on the porch with candles and Scrabble. There were visits with neighbors and guitar playing. It was very Mayberry in a cooler New Englandy way. So it was a bittersweet moment when the power came back on. 


Bittersweet because the experience illuminated how our lives must be plugged in. Obviously, we live in an electrified society. We need it to function in our modern times. I have to iron my shirts for work, run the Mighty Mixer for health drinks (sorry, "green smoothies" sounds funny coming from a man), fire up the modems for Internet access, turn on the power tools (though the chainsaw still got plenty of use), and on and on. 

My work requirements did not stop just because my domestic world was inconvenienced. It did not matter that I was unable to keep up with the speed of the work week. I was like a horse and buggy in an automobile world. Keep up or you're ketchup. 


My goodness how life is exponentially faster with the power on.


I remember learning in Drivers Education class about Velocification. It is the difficulty you have driving at 35 m.p.h. after coming off the highway where you drove 65 m.p.h. I think they made the term up, but the effect is real. It is hard to come down to town speed when you are used to the freeway. 

That is how I felt the week of the outage. I was ping-ponging from the rural back roads of an unplugged home to the electrified interstate of my work day. Frankly, I prefer the back roads - you can see so much more. 

By the evening of September 5th we were back on the highway. Our computers glowed. We watched a couple of movies on TV. Lights burned brightly. For a moment, I even lost my temper when my computer's sound inexplicably stopped working, the laptop went through numerous updates, and Windows went on a pop-up spree - Allow this, allow that... 

We were back to normal.

Meanwhile, our neighbors had their lantern out on their front porch and were playing cards, our power was turned back on before theirs. Dare say I envied them?


Don't get me wrong, hot water is spectacular. I understand why bathing was optional in the old days. Soap refuses to rinse away with cold water, and you are not going to stand in the icy flow trying to convince it otherwise. The decision of whether or not bathing is even necessary was deeply contemplated each day.

However, I can really do without the lights, the television, and the mad ability to produce and accomplish all the time that electricity empowers us with. For a week, everyday was unplugged to a certain extent, and there was that great "vacation" feeling to it.

Now I am longing for Sunday again. After a week of the juice, I really need get some relief from it all. Honestly, I don't think one day a week is enough.

Really unplugged...

Sorry for the delay in posting, everyone. We are still without power, Internet and phones. Hurricane Irene, a/k/a Tropical Storm Irene if your insurance company only covers hurricanes, hit us in the early morning hours on Sunday, August 28. It started off with rain followed by wind gusts. But in the end it was very destructive.

We awoke Saturday morning to a vivid pink sky, the ancient mariner's warning of weather to come. We spent Saturday filling water buckets, getting provisions - lights and batteries (though we forgot the ever elusive C batteries for the radio), candles, easy prep food, etc. at the ready . 

I cleared off the porches, secured anything that might turn into a missile in the wind (the beloved canoe, for example), and put the giant house plants summering outdoors into the garage. Storm windows were closed and emergency kits prepared -chainsaw, rain gear, dog food, mementos, change of clothes. We went to bed Saturday night and waited.

It was a fitful night. I awoke every few hours to check the status of the storm. Aside from the heavy rain, so far so good. We woke Sunday to wind and rain, but nothing more than we were used to over the summer (we had a severe micro-burst a month ago that took down trees without mercy). By mid-morning, it seemed as if we were going to be okay. Then the first tree went down.

We immediately knew the sound as the large maple between our house and the neighbor shed one third of its trunk and limbs. It landed in the neighbors yard, damaging his deck, but nothing serious. It changed our moods though. We set up camp in the front living room and debated whether it was prudent to go to the cellar yet. Thirty minutes later the second third of the tree went into the neighbor's house.

The wind was unleashed now, and the remaining third of the maple was aimed at our house. As we headed to the basement the lights went out. Not the flicker-flicker-darkness we were accustomed to, but instant horror-movie-cut-the-power outage. Within a minute we smelled smoke.

Heather called 911 and I rushed around to be sure it was not our house on fire. A large oak was toppled two houses down the hill, shearing the power lines from the pole. The live wires sparked and started a fire in the drenched front yard of our neighbor. Fortunately, a vigilant neighborhood means everyone had called 911 at the same time and the Fire Department was immediately on scene.

While the trucks arrived, a second mature oak tree a block up the street went down, barley missing the fire truck atop the hill, but draping the power lines over it. The truck escaped unscathed, as did the police officer who was standing nearby. The scene replayed itself throughout our town for the rest of the afternoon. Irene took down old sentinels and broke telephone poles in half as she made her way north.

By 5 PM, all that remained was light intermittent rain. We ventured out carefully, minding the police tape and giving wide berth to downed lines.

NEVER GO NEAR DOWNED POWER LINES! This seems obvious but we watched people stand within arms-length without concern. Downed lines still have plenty of energy. Many people think that once they are down, a circuit breaker trips and they are safe. We learned otherwise from the utility workers that arrived early evening to disconnect power to the line that started the fire.

It was a hurricane as far as we could tell. We spent the night in the downstairs in the living room as the wind continued to howl through the evening. The remaining portion of the maple leaning precariously towards our house stood its ground, but we were not taking chances. 

By Monday morning the sun was shining and the clean-up began.

It is now Thursday, and we do not expect to be restored for at least three more days. The utility companies are working as fast as possible, but they have a whole state to repair.

We are really fortunate for the most part, and everything has a bright side:

1. While we don't have electricity, we do have city water that never stops flowing. 

2. A cold shower is not ideal, but we sure use a lot less water and energy, and it wakes you up faster than a cup of joe. 

3. We have a natural gas stove and are able to heat water and cook without concern.

4. We lost the perishables pretty quickly, but are not starving as ice and groceries are still available. Though ice is pretty scarce.

5. We are safe with no damage to our friends, neighbors and property.

Events like this are few and far between for us. But you realize what you can really endure if you have to. A little hardship is a good reality check for people. We will have electricity again, and Internet and normalcy, sooner than later.

Thank you for your patience. We should be back on schedule  for next week.  Thoughts to everyone still affected by the storm, especially Vermont, where the damage was catastrophic.

Field and Trail Guides

Written by Adam

Did you know you can estimate the age of an eastern white pine by counting the whorls (places where the branches grow out)? One whorl of branches approximately equals one year of growth. I learned this during the hike we enjoyed in the Fenton-Ruby Wildlife Preserve in Joshua's Trust. 

One great thing about the hike was the natural diversity. Though the flora and fauna offered up was typical New England fare, the abundance took me by surprise. It seemed as if everything you could find in the region was represented in these few hundred acres. 

It was made even better by the simple guide found inside a wooden box at one of the trail heads. It coincided with numbered markers on the trail to assist with identifying the specifics.

The hike became a sort of treasure hunt as we checked the ages of white pine trees, ate some wild black raspberries, and marveled at three giant pines sprouted from the massive stump of a single tree cut down over a century ago. 

Having that little trail guide pulled the trees from the forest, so to speak, and made me realize that sometimes you need the details to appreciate the big picture.

Furthermore, we went beyond the obvious everyday identification exercises of "that's a robin, that's a cardinal, that's a dandelion..." It's exciting to be reminded that there is always plenty to learn regardless of all my time outdoors. 

This made me think of ways we try to get the most knowledge out of a simple hike. Here's what I came up with:

Do Some Scouting Beforehand

Tourism is important to our economy, so local organizations (many non-profit) do plenty of work to make the trails enjoyable and to draw people outdoors. State Departments of Environmental Protection are a good place to start looking for places to explore in your area. 

Retail stores such as EMS and REI are staffed with outdoor enthusiasts who love to talk shop. Don't feel like you have to be a hard core hiker to talk with them. They're passionate about what they do and are eager to help families as well as beginners get outdoors. They'll know the best places to explore in your area. Sometimes these stores offer various clinics and workshops, too. You may even have a local shop that can guide you on your way.

By doing some research ahead of time, we can go out with some idea of what to look for and where it may be located on our hike. A fine example is our Joshua's Tract Walk Book (Heather and I talk about this book a lot, for good reason). It not only leads us to the trail, but points out key features to look for while there.  

Of course, the Internet is a top pre-hike resource. For our region, Berkshire Hiking, Green Mountain Club, and  Appalachian Mountain Club are great resources. We make note of particular highlights mentioned in trail descriptions, and are able to plan a hike that includes our favorite features - vistas, ridgelines, and rivers. 

Get Some Useful Field and Trail Guides 

We are fortunate to have pretty good trail guides for our area from the same organizations mentioned above. We also have quite a stack of field guides for everything from birds and rocks to wildflowers and medicinal plants. These are great references to have, but for a relative novice like me, they almost have too much information. 

Even worse, there was a time when I would bring the bulk of them with me on the hike. It would look like a library exploded on the side of the trail as I tried to find out what kind of tree some random leaf belonged to. And nothing ruins a walk in the woods like twenty pounds worth of books on your back.

That is why we picked up some local guide books that are specific to our area. My favorites include the Snakes in Connecticut pamphlet from the local Department of Environmental Protection office and Amphibians & Reptiles in Connecticut by Michael W. Klemens. 

Very easy to use and carry, with excellent full color glossy pictures, these are my top choices to have on hand. Beautiful pictures are a must for a visual learner like me. Because salamanders  and snakes tend to be elusive, they garner more excitement than other creatures, and I am always ready to ID them.

When in Vermont a few weeks ago, we grabbed Nature Guide to the Long Trail  by Lexi Shear.  Organized as a specific guide for the Long Trail, I am finding that many of the natural wonders can also be found in Connecticut. Detailed pictures and descriptions abound.

We also picked up Naturally Curious by Mary Holland. It is a field guide organized month-to-month for New England. I am very impressed with its layout and details, and we reference it before and after our trips. It's a big book though, so it stays at home.

Carry A Notepad Or Journal

Even if I leave all of the guides at home, I still carry a small all-weather pocket journal and a pencil (or a Space Pen, if you have one). Then I can jot down questions I have without missing a step. For example, right now mushrooms seem to be in full bloom despite the lack of meaningful rainfall, why is that? 

I used to try and sketch things, but that was a ridiculous mess. Better to have Heather take a picture (instead of taking the object itself) and then look it up later on. 

Maintaining a journal also forces me to slow down. I tend to be so destination bound that I ignore the journey. Taking some time to scribble what I see, hear or smell increases my awareness of the surrounding wilderness. 

As I note one thing, others come into focus.

I maintain a nice balance between hiking and research on the trail. Some days I just go and take it all in, wondering at the natural world with little consequence. Other times, I turn it into an expedition, complete with field guides and GPS coordinates. It all depends on the mood and the environment.

Do you have a favorite field guide or resource for learning on the trail?

The best part of waking up...

Written by Adam

I enjoy waking up by 6:00 AM. The days somehow seem extended when you add a couple of early hours onto the morning.

During the week, this allows ample time to fire up the old Internet connection and get a good dose of daily news, sports scores, blog updates, and other online tidbits to start the day.

Sunday mornings we have a better way to make the most of this extra time - a great cup of coffee and some easy conversation for an hour or so as the world slowly joins us.  Eventually we get in motion, but this really sets the tone for a wonderful day.

Depending on the season, this meeting of the minds usually takes place out on the porch or in the living room (in front of a fire is nice). The one constant is the hot coffee... and us, of course.

Over the years I've enjoyed a fresh cup of campfire coffee on a chilly mountain morning, but I was never a regular coffee drinker. That was until about five or six years ago when I went on a backwoods camping/fly fishing trip in northern Maine.

It was late May and the ice and snow had just barely released its grip on the roads and waterways. It was perfect timing - no black flies or mosquitoes and the native trout were voracious, striking at anything that hit the water.

As could be expected, the weather was less accommodating. The nights were in the low thirties, followed by rainy and raw days. A good campfire, plenty of eats, and hot black coffee were necessary to maintain functional body temperatures.  

Needless to say, I enjoyed the hot morning beverage and the grown up feeling it gave me. I was hooked, so to speak. Now, coffee is an almost daily occurrence in our lives, for better or worse.

We have a fancy French Press, which is quaint. But my preferred method is a stove-top percolator - the same one from our camping kitchen. I like the percolator because it is durable and simple to use, even during a power outage.  

Our "brand" is Mind, Body and Soul. It's fair trade and all of that eco-friendly hooha we strive for, with a robust yet smooth flavor. We freshly grind the whole coffee beans at the Co-op, and keep it in a peanut butter jar on the pantry shelf. We alternate on the grind settings - Heather likes it chunkier, I go for the finer auto-drip setting.

Our standard ratio is one tablespoon of grounds per two cups of water, but it is not an exact science. Bring the water to a boil, then let it perc on low heat until it smells just right.  Pour into your favorite cup, add what you like (black for me), and find your place to start the day.

How your day begins can make a big difference in how your day goes. A nice hot beverage, pleasant company, and maybe a hint of woodsmoke in the air hits the spot for me.

How do you start the best day of your week?