Is it spring yet?

Global warming be damned, the grip of winter continues here in central Maine. In the last two weeks we have had two storms of 12 plus inches. The first was a fitting 20 inches and at last guess the most recent stint of precipitation slapped us around with strong winds, rain, and then, well over a foot. 
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Don’t get me started on the inept plow driver who decided that with it being April there was no need to lower the blade. No, it was far easier to pretend the blade was lowered and to simply drive over sections of the driveway, leaving the wet fallen snow a few more days of survival. 

Maybe that’s a Mainer thing, as I noticed several driveways still covered in snow, save the truck tire tracks that sloshed through that white mess. In New Hampshire we are a bit more sophisticated for such things and more practical. Not to mention, we actually want to be able to get in the driveway without owning an over-sized truck or four wheel drive Subaru that looks like it would be best served as a taxi for youth hockey games, dance lessons, or cheer competitions. 

I remind myself that growing up in this lengthy winter season was normal. We rarely had warm weather until mid May. We usually had a storm or two this time of year and it wasn’t unheard of to get wacked by a late April one to boot. Truly, I still remember in high school the fields were ready for spring sports, the grass was dark green, lush, and ready to shoot upwards. But Mother Nature didn’t care. She wanted to ruin our spring vacation week and create havoc for sport practices. 

Instead of playing on pristine fields or dry tennis courts, we got eight inches of snow during a vacation day. It happens. Not as often as it did ten or twenty years ago, let alone thirty, but Maine is still Maine. Personally, I’m more of a fan of the transition to mud season and seeing how long it takes for the dirt roads to solidify and stop swallowing up our cars and trucks. 

So far the fire road I live on has been somewhat tolerable. I just pretend I’m driving on a
Crocodile Mile or what remains of an ice road. The trick is staying in the grooves, but the zig zagging can be a bit much and those pot holes filled with a muddy watery treat add to the mood. 

Eventually, spring will come to Maine. This year it might be for a day or two, maybe even three till we immediately shift into summer weather and temps. While I will likely be celebrating this change of season, in the back of my mind I will hear those lingering Stark words, “Winter is coming,” and if not winter, the blasted tourists who raid and pillage these lands during the summer months.

Either way, you can’t win, you can just grin and bear the seasons of change.

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