I love the way we talk. Mainers, I mean. When I hear people speaking with the types of voices I remember from when I was growing up, I sometimes get a little teary. I am so thankful, like the Maine way with words is a language all its own, and one I am afraid is dying out.

If ever there has been a winter week to enjoy life on Biscay Pond, this past week may have been it. Yes, our brutal cold snap has continued. I have had to hit the reset button on my furnace four times.

Despite the overcast sky and the chilly breeze atop Grand Army Hill in N. Whitefield, the “OPEN” flag flapped its invitation once again to all who passed through town; beckoning them to please stop in and to take a peek at the new library that is now open for business!

Hello all, greetings from me, Henry. I am adjusting to life here in Maine quite well. Louisiana is not as cold; I mean, yikes, 8 degrees below 0! Who would have thought! I don’t know exactly what that means, but I hear my mom and dad talking and it sounds awful!

I didn’t feel well during the night. The sweet med tech gave me my two morning meds around 5:30 a.m. Starting at 7:30 a.m. I watched “Turning Point” with Pastor David Jeremiah and “In Touch” with Pastor Charles Stanley. Both so uplifting and helpful. I have been writing and reading and my sweet roommate and I watched old movies on TV. The sweet med tech gave me my bedtime meds last evening. I was soon to sleep.

Picture yourself lying on your back, your head and shoulders propped up just enough to see over your toes, one hand on a line and the other on a tiller. It’s well below freezing, might be snowing.