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Wednesday, March 11, 2015

March Comes in Like a Polar Bear


Last weekend we went to the beach at Reid State Park. As I trudged through knee-deep snow to the sea, my daughter followed the dog onto the rocks. She opened her arms to the horizon, embracing the moment. The world was hers. I admire her attitude.


This has been a long winter for most of the American east coast, including the south. It started early with a white Thanksgiving (above photo) and was followed by record snowfalls in January and February. While Massachusetts was buried alive, Maine was well prepared. My favorite winters feature powdery snow over the dreaded wintery mix and ice storms. I delighted in skiing out my back door, which inched closer and closer to the back yard as more snow fell. I have skied nearly every day for two months, often with my dog.


Now in mid March, there is nearly two feet of old snow to melt, and with the temperatures soaring into the mid 50's, snowbanks are flooding the streets and the woods. Mornings frequently feature snow-fog. We call this time of year Mud Season, which lasts well into April. Real spring won't kick in until May, with everything blooming all at once. Most homes have mud rooms for mucky boots and warm layers. We go sockfoot inside. More snow is on the forecast this weekend.


Today the air smells of spring, and the bright blue skies are lifting my spirits. Mud season is not my favorite time of year, but it's part of life. I'm making good progress on the manuscript that I'm revising and enjoying the extra daylight. I will follow my daughter's example and open my arms to this marvelous day. It may be my *last* day to ski.


One more harbinger of winter's close: spring galleys from Elizabeth Wein (3/31), Nova Ren Suma (3/24), Beth Kephart (4/14), and Barrie Summy (5/12) for review.

13 comments:

  1. On the opposite coast from you I have a mud room, too. Necessary in Western Washington's damp weather, but I don't face the bitter cold you do. I love those photos--the beauty of the season captured.

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  2. It's mud season here, too, and with rain in the forecast for tomorrow, it's only going to get worse. But at least it's warmer! Your photos always make Maine winters look so appealing. I love, love the photo of the snow-fog--that would make a great cover for a mystery novel!

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  3. Much to look forward to in the next weeks and months. Slowly waking from hibernation I'll be ready...;)

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  4. We've lost 6" of snow this past week! I am so happy with this.
    Been in a bit of a tizzy, with one thing and 5 others, but thanks for visiting my book review!

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  5. I've heard of the crazy weather you've been having. I do envy your snow, though. Wish we'd had some this year. None last year and none this one. Never mind, I can always look at your photos! :-)

    Greetings from London.

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  6. Snow fog and mud season - two new concepts. Growing up in Minnesota the joke was always that there are only two seasons: winter and road construction :))

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  7. I love snow fog Sarah, though it can chill me to the bone. Your months of skiing sound wonderful and your photographs reveal enchantment. Beautiful. Happiest of Birthdays to You. Carol

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  8. I admire your attitude, and that last photo (sumac?). I have staked out two large piles of pushed up, cleared off dirty snow. I am taking great delight in watching them get smaller each day, and I am going to celebrate the day they finally disappear for good.

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  9. I adore the third photo--those black barks against the gray fog/mist rising out of the snow... wow. Nice shot of the galleys too--good reading ahead.

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  10. I love how you embrace all that is your life. Beautiful, Sarah.

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  11. All, thanks! It is getting harder and harder to keep a positive attitude now that the snow has iced over. I treated myself to a new pair of snowshoes.

    Rose, Jenn and Amanda, it helps to know that I'm not alone in this endless winter.

    ACIL, thanks for reminding me of the flip side of the coin. A winter without snow would be worse than a winter with too much snow.

    Carol, thanks for your birthday wishes. My family filled the house with roses.

    Les, good eye! Yes, it is sumac, struggling to break through the snow. The leaf colors are vibrant in the fall.

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