The Snow Sisters
Miriam:
Some early images with Mimi
For me as a young child, Mim, though not living there, was most always present at the Red House, coming down from Bangor whenever we made our pilgrimage from Nova Scotia to Blue Hill. She would arrive in her latest VW bug, always a much newer model than any of the VW bugs we owned. Upon her arrival came energy, stories, smiles, and laughter, which became a fixture for us on our visits to Blue Hill.
She always seemed to arrive with a little “something" for Aaron and me, something to spoil us and maybe vex her older sister. We loved it.
Down in the barn, behind the house, she kept her horse. It was quite a novelty for us to experience, this huge animal, as the largest animals we were familiar with were the pigs at our house. And with this horse, of course, came the opportunity to ride. This is something that did not happen often, but in my mind was memorable as it is the only time I've ever been on a horse. We would scramble up and perch upon the saddle, feeling quite lost, being up so high and in a saddle so large. Once aboard, Mimi and Grampy would lead us across the road and into the woods where the shopping complex is now and ride the paths back there, through fields and around ponds and home again. I think of those times whenever I enter the Tradewinds, of the horse rides we had when there were woods and fields and streams here to explore all thanks to Mim and her passion for horses.
And of course, Mimi and her camera. In those years, it seemed that she always had a camera with her, and photographs to share. We would experience her adventures and travels through her pictures. I recall a tremendous collection of books with her photographs carefully curated and available for a young boy to flip through, if he was careful, hearing the stories of people and places depicted therein.
For my early years growing up, Mimi was an additional connection to what adulthood might look like, the way that aunts and uncles have provided for us kids for generations. Often showing us a lighter side of what it means to become an adult. So frequently bringing new excitements, a new perspective possibly, and new ideas into our world.
I am forever grateful for her guidance in those years when she was young and finding her own way in this world. From this time on, she moved forward with confidence to make her life, raise this amazing family, and successfully find her place in this world. Thank you, Mimi.
Mom:
In taking a walk in the woods yesterday, I was reminded of a book that I had read a number of years ago, the author putting forth the premise that, as individuals, our lives span 250 or more years of “direct influence”. This “influence” begins with the stories from our parents, from our grandparents, and great grandparents to us, then passed forward to the next generations, children and grandchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins, family friends,,, and so one’s time expands to be much greater than our years.
On my walk yesterday I was reminded of the vastness of that time and the fact that whenever I step into the woods, mom is there, with her stories that she shared with me. Just the way that her father and mother, and grandfathers and grandmothers were there with their stories, when she stepped into the woods, showing her the importance of the land, the woods, the animals and farms, and the importance of song.
So there I find myself, in amongst the pine, oak, maple and fir, with a view out to a field that needs mowing. I hear her stories, her father's stories, and her grandmother's stories that she collected and curated to share with me. I begin to see how one's life can span many more years than the years we are on this earth.
She had a reverence for trees, large and small. Be it a wild wood or a manicured backyard, she connected with trees in any manner that they grew. And for me, she is always with me in the woods, with her stories, standing at the base of an old pine tree, on a path through a stand of hemlocks, or heading out to check the fruit trees.
She leaves us with these stories that she accumulated, curated, and shared, going back over a hundred years, that she has passed on to me and Aaron, to our children, to all of you and another generation. These stories, her stories and remembrances, her values, and her guides to our character, we pass forward to another generation, and before you know it, Lainie has been with us for many, many years.
So find a tree or some wood, and it is, in these woods or at this tree, where we will continue to learn and pass forward some of what Lainie offered when she was with us.
The Song Of Wandering Angus - 1897 W.B. Yeats I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
And now, we would like to invite others to share memories, stories, or words of any arrangement inspired by Mimi and Lainie.