New Hampshire
From the Garden State to the Granite State – The Boston Globe
“It feels kind of weird,” I said, barely one month into living in the Granite State. “It’s been me. It’s been who I am.”
She looked me in the eye and said, “You’re very brave.”
She was not the first to call me brave. She was not the last to say it, to write it in a card. But I was on autopilot since I received an inviting job offer a few days before Christmas. There was much to do.
The pandemic, I quickly learned, transformed an affordable real estate market in the Granite State to the Wild West of home buying or renting an apartment — the same story as the rest of the country: no inventory and skyrocketing prices. Still, no match for Ginger, my high school friend who was like an English pointer, doggedly scouring housing websites for me for weeks, until she reached a breakthrough and found a new listing. I needed a decent place to land. Check. Pet-friendly. Check.
Over text, I was introduced to a future colleague who FaceTimed me during a walk-through so I could see the apartment. By Jan. 8, I was setting up the electric utility account for my apartment, situated between the Lakes Region and the gateway to the White Mountains.
It took awhile before I understood what that meant, the beauty, the majesty, the isolation.
Dodging New Hampshire snowstorms, I moved in on Jan.12, with a job-start date of the 15th.
I left the Garden State with a friend who lovingly packed a 12-foot trailer with several pieces of furniture that would make this one-bedroom galley apartment home. I left my childhood home in the hands of friends who would caretake the last place where my family had been a family and help offset the cost of expenses. I left my neighborhood with the tears and hugs of neighbors. I knew this house. I knew this town, this state, these roads. Eventually, living in the day-to-day of New Hampshire, when the boxes were unpacked and the furniture shaped a home, I came to realize that I left familiarity, and recognizing that held its own kind of emptiness.
There are things that my small and unpretentious wardrobe never imagined, like fleece-lined pants or NASA-technology down jackets. Their warmth and comfort do not eclipse my sense of what it must feel like to be an astronaut wearing a diaper. And the boots. Oh, the many boots.
Adjusting to winter seemed frivolous compared to driving an hour to shop at Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods. Two hours to Costco was like Christmas. I was shopping for familiar comforts. Some days, just deciding which boots to wear and leaving the apartment and getting on roads without cell service seemed brave. For this suburban kid who has always lived a stone’s throw away from Manhattan, driving on dirt and densely wooded roads is not natural.
And when mud season arrived, like the day I found myself unintentionally off-roading — seriously, some people do this for recreation? — it was nothing short of terrifying. I have never seen mud tracks that were somewhere between six inches and “We’re sinking.”

Would the SOS button in my Subaru work? Would anyone find me if something happened? There was no place to turn. I understood one thing: Keep the car moving forward. It was time for X-mode, a feature that I had never before used but was willing to trust. It felt at once like I was an action figure clawing the earth and Captain Kirk commanding the Starship Enterprise. Oddly exhilarated and terrified, I steered the Subaru up over the mountain. Not bad for a flatlander. I felt something akin to courage.
As my days and months in New Hampshire pass — now just shy of eight months — there have been other mettle detectors, like the nine-hour drive home from what now plays like an adventure movie: Escape from the Eclipse. On the winding, wooded roads where I have learned to trust my companion, the British GPS man, my once-sheer panic is mostly a diluted nervousness. It lasts for a moment, while I mentally review whether I have water, coffee, or food in the car. But then I hear myself: We’re OK. Everything is OK. And I go back to listening to my book on tape. Or I see the sun filtering through the richly forested areas, the elegant, feathery ferns, the impressive rock walls, and I see the elements as the forces they are: self-assured, nonthreatening.
Through snow or mist, the mountains — set against the greening of the trees, the painted clouds, and big sky — carry a nobility. Breathing in the expansive landscapes that brim with possibilities, I cannot help but feel that too. And the move that brought me, a writer, to live and work in this rural, sometimes remote area of New Hampshire has shown me that courage comes in bits and opportunities.
“You’re very brave,” she said.
Yes. I now know what she means.
Mary Ann D’Urso is a freelance writer.
New Hampshire
Let’s Talk Nature: The Value of Conserved Land
Join us for a community conversation exploring how land conservation supports thriving communities, healthy ecosystems, and local economies. Recent research from Maine highlights the growing economic value of conserved lands — from supporting recreation, forestry, agriculture, and tourism to protecting clean water, storing carbon, and strengthening climate resilience. The findings reveal something important: protecting natural landscapes is not only good for the environment, but also for the people and communities that depend on them.
Together, we’ll explore what this research means both regionally and here at home. How do conserved lands shape our quality of life, local economy, and sense of place? How can communities balance growth, conservation, and long-term sustainability? And what role can each of us play in protecting the landscapes that support both nature and people?
At each “Let’s Talk Nature” gathering, we share a short article in advance and come together for an informal, welcoming discussion. Each session stands on its own, and everyone is welcome. No expertise needed. Bring your curiosity and a willingness to listen and share. Drinks and cookies provided.
Read this session’s article: Conserved Land in Maine has Growing Economic Power
Grey Rocks Conservation Center
10:30 AM – 11:30 AM on Wed, 1 Jul 2026
Event Supported By
Newfound Lake Region Association
603-744-8689
info@NewfoundLake.org
New Hampshire
High winds, heavy rains lead to scattered NH outages
High winds and widespread rain contributed to more than 12,000 power outages Saturday as a low pressure system passes over New Hampshire.
A high wind advisory remains in effect for southeastern New Hampshire until midday.
There is a high surf advisory in effect for the Seacoast area until 8 p.m. Saturday, with large-breaking waves in the range of 6-9 feet, according to the National Weather Service.
The forecast warns of dangerous wintry winds for hikers and campers, with heavy wet snow likely at higher elevations and a foot of snow possible on summits in the White Mountains.
In southeastern New Hampshire, the wind advisory calls for steady winds of 15-25 mph, and potential wind gusts up to 50 mph.
Eversource reported over 10,000 outages as of 9:30 a.m. Unitil had about 1,400 outages at that time.
The Mount Washington Observatory has recorded winterlike weather over the past 24 hours. Weather observers there say over half a foot of snow and sleet has fallen at the summit.
New Hampshire
Opinion: The farm bill passed the House. Western New Hampshire got the bill. – Concord Monitor
In 1794, George Washington wrote that he knew of “no pursuit in which more zeal and important service can be rendered to any Country than by improving its agriculture.” Two hundred and thirty years later, the House just passed a farm bill that proves his successors stopped believing it.
Drive Route 12 through Walpole. Take Route 10 up through Haverhill. Cut across to Littleton, past the diner that has been feeding the town since 1930. The farms are there. Lush land that produces. People who work till their sweat and blood soak the ground they nurture. A region with every ingredient to feed itself.
What is not there is the processing facility that makes it worth raising the animal. The cold storage that keeps the crop from spoiling before it finds a buyer. The regional market that pays a price worth planting for. I want to believe Washington did not forget to build those things. Regardless, it built something else instead — a system that works beautifully for an operation running 10,000 acres in the Midwest and leaves the farmer on Route 12 doing the math at the kitchen table at midnight wondering if this is the last season.
And the 2026 Farm Bill just made that system more expensive to survive. Large commodity operations received a $54 billion subsidy increase over the next 10 years, with individual payment caps that can exceed $900,000 per operation. Is the farmer at your farmers market in position for this kind of payout?
The bill guarantees money, codified by law, for the people who need it least. Local food programs were reauthorized with zero mandatory funding, but plenty of empty words. They exist on paper and nowhere else. It means a farmer in Plainfield cannot count on them. It means Coos County, where one in seven people cannot reliably put food on the table, keeps waiting for help that has been promised and deferred so many times the promise itself has become an insult. Especially when supermarkets and superstores — just 15% of SNAP-accepting establishments — vacuum up nearly 74% of every food assistance dollar, while the local farm stand sees almost none of it.
And that is before the input costs.
Local farmers know this better than most. You buy fuel and fertilizer on global markets you have no vote in and no say over. Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, causing record high prices for fertilizers globally, all because Russia is the world’s top exporter and suddenly it wasn’t exporting. And while that news cycle is long buried, remember that the Iran war has closed the Strait of Hormuz, through which a third of the world’s seaborne fertilizer travels. Diesel recently crossed $5 a gallon, which large trucks that move food and tractors rely on. Fertilizer went from $500 a ton to $850. One tractor cost $350 more than it did last year. You did not start either of those wars, yet you pay for both of them. And that is not even accounting for the sharp sting of tariffs on the inputs you depend on to plant next season.
Chapter 12 farm bankruptcies rose 55% in 2024. Then another 46% in 2025, and those numbers only count the farms that qualified for Chapter 12, which requires the majority of family income to come from farming. The ones that don’t qualify quietly disappear, not even a balance sheet to mark the years of struggle, labor and community these farmers gave. They just stop. Since 2018, this country has lost more than 158,000 farms, with every size category shrinking except operations over a million dollars in annual revenue. Those are still growing, and will do so as long as the policy is written to grow them. Another example of an unlevel playing field where the rich get richer.
To be clear about something: large-scale agriculture feeds a lot of people and nobody sat in a room and decided to destroy the small farm. But does intent matter when these are the results? The system produces what it was designed to produce. That is exactly the problem. It was not designed with you in mind, and after enough years of that, the results look intentional even when they are not.
I got involved locally here because I believe western New Hampshire has everything it needs to feed itself and then some. Four thousand farms, nearly half a million acres, led by a direct-sales culture that leads the entire country. What is missing is not the land or the people or the will. What is missing is a representative who walks into bill negotiations fighting for the farmer on Route 12 instead of the operation collecting a $900,000 subsidy check in a state they have never visited, and pretending it actually helps their constituents.
I have a specific plan for how existing federal dollars already flowing into this district get redirected toward processing, storage and regional market access that actually serves the farms here. No new appropriations. No new programs. A full breakdown is at livefreenh02.com/food-independence.
Daniel Webster, born thirty miles from where I am writing this, put it in the Capitol: “The farmers, therefore, are the founders of human civilization.” Washington and Webster were not just statesmen. They farmed. They understood what was at stake when the land stopped producing for the people who worked it. The authors of the 2026 farm bill apparently do not.
Robbie Mahrou is an independent candidate for U.S. Congress in New Hampshire’s Second District and a Walpole resident. She can be reached out robbie@livefreenh02.com.
-
Milwaukee, WI5 minutes ago
NCAA baseball tournament: Milwaukee drills UCF in Auburn Regional
-
Atlanta, GA8 minutes agoWorried about World Cup traffic? Planning, technology should help ease jams.
-
Minneapolis, MN13 minutes ago
Mamdani’s housing plan is inspired by YIMBY darlings, like Austin and Minneapolis
-
Indianapolis, IN20 minutes agoPleasant stretch continues with dry days into midweek | May 30, 2026
-
Pittsburg, PA23 minutes agoI Need a Pridefest Buddy – Pittsburgh Lesbian Correspondents
-
Augusta, GA28 minutes agoDocumentary premiere sheds light on Augusta homelessness, poverty
-
Washington, D.C35 minutes agoHow the Supreme Court is reshaping the US midterm elections
-
Cleveland, OH38 minutes ago1 dead, 1 in critical condition after Cleveland shooting: EMS