Today, I am tired of winter. The snow is breathtaking in December and January but when February nears closure and March considers becoming either a lion or a lamb, I am ready to bid adieu to intricately designed snowflakes, snowbanks, snowplows, and icy walkways. I respect the winter athletes and their obvious devotion to the season, but I am weary. These hearty winters are the price we pay for the arrival of tree buds, robins, dandelions, and that Aroostook County shade of green that cannot be replicated.
How I love those Maine spring nights; warm and dry, with just a tease of cool air. In mid-May, there are usually no black flies or mosquitoes; just that orchestra of crickets and an occasional baritone frog. Above us is a fingernail moon, rounded and thin; a perfect crescent cut in the navy sky. I have always believed that the stars are tiny perforations in Heaven’s floor; miniscule glimpses of those pearly gates and streets of gold.
Day breaks, its breath damp and heavy, as that June blue sky returns to us once again. We embrace the scent of freshly mown grass, lilac trees in full bloom, and those glorious apple blossoms; perhaps the sweetest of all. We drive with our windows down and our hair mussed from a young breeze that is but a portion of the complete package we have been dreaming of. Even the rain, firm and lingering, is a beloved promise of the summer to come.
We seek out Saturday morning yard sales, our colorful totes dangling from one arm as we search for antiques, baby clothes, books, gently worn furniture and silvery trinkets that twinkle and tempt us to dig deep into our change purses and wallets. We are smug with our bargaining skills, and well aware that the real treasure of the day is the event itself and the opportunity to mingle.
Autumn sends out its RSVP and we savor those quick warm days and cool, sleepy nights. Potatoes are harvested, flower gardens are tenderly disassembled and we replace our daisy solar lights with corn husks and scarecrows, apologizing quietly to our Spring/Summer ornaments as we lovingly tuck them into garages, storage sheds, and basements.
We prepare for winter, both emotionally and with practicality as we budget for the purchase of fuel oil, electricity, wood and wood pellets; our pencils worn to the nub. Winter brings skiing, snowmobiles, ice skating and cherished holidays that lessen the stress from cold temperatures and vast amounts of snow.
We deal with this harsh season because it is a part of our culture and we often fail to understand the reluctance of those who have no desire to live among us. “A Northern Maine winter is not so bad,” we explain. “It is the price we pay for our gorgeous Maine summers and we make the most of it!” Not everyone buys our sales pitch, however; choosing a faster and considerably warmer lifestyle.
In due time, winter shuffles off with some hesitation, leaving a trail of muddy dooryards, ash gray snow, and “temper tantrum” snow squalls; all familiar reminders of its solid return.
Editor’s Note: Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives Connor TWP with her husband Dale and their Goldendoodle Barney. They are currently working on building a home in Caribou. You may contact Belinda online at: dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
