As I’ve mentioned before, it has been one heck of a March, with three bad storms—all nor’easters—right in a row. A fourth blew up the coast last week, but it decided not to come this far north. While we were sorry for the folks in New York that got hammered, we were grateful to be spared.
Even as recently as two days ago, when I took the dog for a walk, it felt like winter, and the air smelled cold. Truth be told, I like that smell—one of the joys of winter.
But today—wonder of wonders—it felt as though spring was at least thinking of coming to Maine. The day was warm, soft even, and I decided to go out and about around town to see if I could find any signs of spring.
Up the road, I found a few pussy willows that were just beginning to show their pretty faces.
In town, at Norcross point, a little park by Maranacook Lake, there was a sure sign of spring in Maine. Mud, glorious mud, and this is just the start. But we have to get through the mud before true spring arrives, which was why it was irritating to have so many snow storms. They just delayed the coming of mud.
But still, there was plenty to admire at Norcross Point—the trees by the lake, the blue water, the receding line of ice. Around here, there is always great speculation about when there will be ice out at the various lakes and ponds. Another month, I think, and I’ll be watching.
And just to remind readers that winter is not quite done, here is a picture of the snowy park and the empty benches.
Leaving Norcross Point, in true Maine fashion, I got stuck in the snow and the muck. Years of experience have taught me to proceed with a very light foot in such situations, and I was able to work my way out by backing up until I came to more solid ground.
So it begins. Come mud, come spring!