I’m now back in Maine: YAY!
While in the post office yesterday, it became clear to me that not everyone is as excited by winter as I am.
“Didja he-yuh, more snow fuh this week?”
“Ayuh. I say, enough already!”
Perhaps it’s because I was gone for a month and missed the cruelest part of winter (it was -30 with windchill); but I still get excited with every bit of snowfall. Thanks to the woodstove, our house is always nice and toasty, and we really are at the stage where the weather can’t quite decide if it’s the end of winter or beginning of spring – – temperatures continue to hover just above or below freezing. Hopefully we can avoid a lot of sleet, which is never fun, and of course, once the melt begins, we have mud season to look forward to.
But for now, there is still ample snow on the ground, much to the delight of snowmobilers and dogsledders who love to explore the wooded trails that crisscross the White Mountains.
People often ask us if we are bored on Shabbos. It is very quiet, but never uninteresting or unenjoyable. This is actually a busy time in this part of the woods, and there is more traffic than usual (in summer we get an average of one car per hour down our road, if that). While out for a walk this past Shabbos, we saw at least a dozen snowmobiles, plus a dog team of 6 American Eskimo, Husky, and Malamute dogs pulling a sled with a “musher,” his wife , and their preteen daughter. Of course we stopped to chat – – that’s just what you do in Maine. We also met up with the law enforcement side of the forest service – – a game warden. We spoke with him as well, and he told us that they patrol the trails (on snowmobiles, of course), checking snowmobile registrations (you have to register your snowmobile much like you register a car) as well as ensuring that snowmobilers are sober and safety-conscious.
As we made our way back home, we met up with a single woman who was also out for a walk. Laura is a life-long Mainer whose Maine roots go back many generations. It turns out I’ve passed her house many times on my walks in the woods – – she is my second-closest full-time neighbor, only a mile-and-a-quarter away (!). (By “full-time,” I am excluding those who live in summer/vacation cabins.)
She regaled us with stories of her “Grampy,” who lived in Norway, ME (about a 30 minute drive from here) his entire life. He had worked for decades at a wooden dowel factory. It was his custom to walk home for lunch. After a perfect on-time attendance record, one day he was 15 minutes late getting back to the factory after lunch. He was so mortified, he figured if he couldn’t walk fast enough to get back to work on time, he wasn’t good for anything. So he quit that job on the spot!
“That’s when Grampy was 89,” Laura added.
Life is awfully good here in Maine.