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.