Weather Report: A Softening, but Still a Lot of Snow
Here we are, at the end of March. Finally, finally, the weather seems to be softening. We still have plenty of snow, as the following pictures indicate, but the days have been sunny and if not exactly warm, at least not quite as cold.
The mud and grit have arrived, a little late. All those March snowstorms have put us at least two weeks behind where we usually are this time of year. All we can do is hope that the thaw is quick. Such a mess, inside and out.
However, rather than brood about the mud, I’ll turn to the Kennebec River, which is beautiful and fascinating no matter the season.
Here is a picture Clif took on Saturday. While the middle of the river flows clear, the edges are lined with some pretty impressive ice chunks.
Here is a closer look. Luckily, a bird (a crow?) decided to fly by just as I was snapping the shot, and this will give you some sense of the scale of those massive ice chunks.
I can’t even begin to guess when those chunks will be completely melted. Mid-April? End of April? I suppose it depends on how warm the weather is.
Meanwhile, back at our little homestead, with snow-gauge Clif.
Here is the front yard. Still a lot of snow, but the driveway has begun to make an appearance. In our yard, that counts as progress.
This week, I’ve also decided to add the backyard, and this, too, will be a regular feature. Over the years, our daughter Shannon has come up with a birthday wish—that all the snow will be gone from the patio before her birthday, April 22.
As you can see, the patio has a long way to go, and it looks very doubtful that the snow will be gone by April 22.
But we shall see.
Finally, here is a picture to show that although it looks as though central Maine is still in winter’s frozen grip, spring is slowly, slowly coming. Note the red buds on the tree.
Perhaps the finches are even discussing when nest building should begin.
Not quite yet.
Five For Friday: Signs of Spring
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!
Kennebec Sentinel
An Anniversary Trip to Bath
Yesterday, to celebrate our forty-first wedding anniversary, Clif and I went to Bath, Maine, a small city of a little over 8,000 people. Bath is nestled beside the Kennebec River, and it is close enough to the ocean for the river to be visibly tidal. Because of this, Bath definitely has a coastal feel.
The day was clear, cold, and beautiful, much like the day we were married, and the ride to Bath, about an hour away, was sheer delight.
We had a gift certificate to J. R. Maxwell’s in downtown Bath, but Clif suggested that we celebrate in stages to make the outing more festive. A great idea, and that is exactly what we did. First, we went to the Kennebec Tavern, which is on the edge of town, right by the Kennebec River.
I have lived near the Kennebec for most of my life, and how I have come to love this protean waterway, always moving, always unpredictable. In Bath, the Kennebec is wider than it is in central Maine, where we live. It’s almost as though the river is opening up as it rushes toward the sea.
Clif ordered a Baxter IPA, and I ordered a martini made with vodka and Bailey’s Irish Cream. As an appetizer, we had a plate of fried parsnip chips. Very tasty. As we sipped and ate and toasted ourselves, we sat by windows overlooking the river.
Happy was just how I felt as I came to the end of my drink and discovered a little treat at the bottom of my glass.
After drinks, it was off to Maxwell’s for our dinner. Downtown Bath is charming, and here is a shot of the main street.
At home, we almost never eat meat, so Clif decided to indulge by having a steak. Lobster is also something we rarely eat, and I had my own indulgence—a lobster roll, my favorite way of eating lobster.
You might notice that there are both chips and fries on my plate. This is because I couldn’t decided which one to order, and our server suggested that I could have half and half. The fries were good, but the homemade chips were fantastic, perfectly cooked. If we ever go back to this restaurant, I will just order the chips.
And by the way, the lobster roll was pretty darned good, too, made just the way it ought to be—pure lobster meat with just a hint of mayonnaise. Foodies from away like to suggest adding this or that to the lobster salad, and to them I say, “Nonsense!” There are some things that should just be left alone, and lobster salad is one of them.
After this fine meal, did we want dessert? We did not, at least not right away. But after an hour’s drive back to central Maine, we decided that maybe, just maybe, we could force ourselves to have a sundae at Fielder’s Choice.
A sweet ending to a sweet day for a couple of crazy Mainers who go out for ice cream even when the snowbanks are high.
Cheers from an old married couple!
Weather Report: Snow-Gauge Clif and a Special Day
The Kennebec River
On Saturday, we went to the lookout spot by the Kennebec River, and while we could pull in to the drive-through, the snow was plowed so high that I couldn’t get onto the platform. This meant I had to stand by the car to get a picture. (As soon as the snowbanks go down, I’ll be back on the platform to take pictures.)
Here is what the river looked like last week, when I was standing on the platform.
And here is what it looked like this week, when I stood by the car. You can see that there is a bit more open water on the river.
Our Yard
We live in the woods and have a such a shady yard that the snow melts very slowly. It really seems that our yard is one of the last in town to emerge from winter. After living here for thirty-four years, we are used to it. Nevertheless, each spring we impatiently wait for the snow to go.
Here is our yard today, March 19. I’ve decided to use Clif as a reference point next to the snow, and Clare Pooley, a blogging friend, has dubbed him “snow-gauge Clif.” Perfect! Snow-gauge Clif and his red yardstick will be making regular Monday appearances on the blog until the snow is melted. Here he is today.
Sure looks like we live in the frozen north, doesn’t it? No surprise, as Maine is north of north for most people in the United States.
And here was the temperature this morning. There was a brisk breeze, making it even chillier. Hard to believe that two weeks ago, we were eating ice cream outside at Fielder’s Choice. I do believe that day was the warmest of the month.
Today also happens to be a special day for us. It is our forty-first wedding anniversary. Why in the heck we decided to get married in March is something I’ll never be able to figure out, but we did. And, I must say that it perks up this dismal month.
To celebrate we are heading to Bath, Maine, a small city about an hour from us. Bath is on the Kennebec River and not far from the Atlantic Ocean.
I’ll be posting pictures tomorrow.
Five for Friday: When Bad Weather Comes, Eat Pie and Muffins!
Another week, another nor’easter. This mourning dove illustrates how we Mainers felt as we cleaned the snow from our driveways and walkways.
Yet not all hope is lost. Do you see what I see when looking at this picture? Snow and branches, yes, but also little buds. Clearly, the tree thinks spring is coming even if the weather says otherwise.
I’m almost embarrassed to admit that nor’easter number four is predicted for next week. How much bad weather can one region get before it starts to feel like showing off? I think we crossed that threshold two storms ago, and still the storms come. Right now, there is some debate as to how fierce the next nor’easter will be. It all depends on how close to land it is. May it be far out to sea, away from ships and people.
At this point, some readers might be wondering what the heck a nor’easter is and why we dread them so. Here is a definition from AccuWeather: “[T}he main difference between a hurricane and nor’easter is the size of the wind field. According to NOAA, a wind field is the three-dimensional spatial pattern of winds…Hurricanes have a narrow field of strong winds with a concentration around the center, whereas a nor’easter’s winds are spread out…For example, a hurricane may only have a 30-mile radius of a strong wind field around the center, while a nor’easter may have a 100-mile radius of a strong wind field from the center.”
Simply put, a nor’easter is a winter hurricane with a very large wind field that can cause a lot of damage. We are right to fear them.
But let us turn our thoughts away from nor’easters and instead focus on one of my favorite subjects—food.
In the U.S., because of the way we order our dates—month and day rather than the reverse—we had pie or pi day on Wednesday, March 14. Pies are one of my favorite things to make and eat, and in honor of pi day, I made an apple pie. I bought local apples—McIntoshes—that had been perfectly stored so that they were still slightly tart. Our friend Mary Jane came over to have pie with us, and I even convinced her to take a slice home. After all, one pie for two people is a bit much. Not that we couldn’t eat it all, but we certainly shouldn’t.
Another kind of pie is pizza. Before digging into the apple pie, Mary Jane, Clif, and I went TJ’s in Monmouth to have some beautifully cooked pizza.
Then, to gild the lily, Mary Jane gave us some donut muffins, which we had for breakfast the next day. With a hint of nutmeg in the batter and the sugar and cinnamon on top, those muffins were utterly delicious. Many thanks, Mary Jane!
To conclude: The weather might be frightful, but when the food is good, somehow things don’t seem quite as bad.
Here Comes the Sun
The Narrows Pond Road on a Snowy Day
The nor’easter—couldn’t find the name of this storm—has arrived in central Maine. I just came in from shoveling the steps and taking pictures, and it seemed to me that the snow was much lighter than the snow from the last storm.
Turns out I was right, although as with so many things, this is a mixed blessing. Light snow is easier to shovel and is less likely to cause branches to fall on power lines. However, according to the Portland Press Herald, lighter snow “could cause even more treacherous travel conditions. A fluffier snow will blow around, limiting visibility and creating whiteout conditions when winds gusts.”
Given the choice, which of course I never am, I would go with the lighter snow. And stay home. (Easy for me to do as I work from home.)
In central Maine, the winds are not supposed to exceed thirty miles per hour, which makes me cautiously optimistic that we won’t lose our power. To be on the safe side, we had our big meal in the early afternoon. That way, clean up will be done in case we do have a power outage.
Other places on the Eastern Seaboard are not so lucky, and there are already about 150,000 homes without power in the Cape Cod region.
But here on the Narrows Pond Road, we are snug and warm. We still have our power, the snow is light and fluffy, and we don’t have to be anywhere.
Here are some snowy day pictures.
Our little home, tucked in the woods.
Our very snowy mailbox.
Finally, our snowy road. There was so little traffic that I felt safe standing in the road to get this picture.
The prediction is still for about a foot and a half of snow. Clif will be out with Little Green more than once before this is over.
And with any luck, I’ll be able to make an apple pie tomorrow because we all know what March 14 is, don’t we? Why, pie (or pi) day of course!
Weather Report: Another Nor’easter and the Thawing Kennebec River
Another week, another nor’easter is blowing up the East Coast. The snowstorm is supposed to hit us tonight and tomorrow, leaving between a foot and a foot and a half of snow. March snowstorms are not unusual in Maine, but this year takes the cake, as the saying goes. Three nor’easters in two weeks is a bit much, even for us. In short, it’s been a doozy of a March.
Instead of brooding about yet another major storm, I have decided to focus on the Kennebec River, which flows through central Maine as it makes its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Yesterday, in between doing errands, I took pictures of the Kennebec, and the river shows how slowly, slowly spring is indeed coming to northern New England. Nor’easter be damned!
But first, as a reminder of just how icy things were, I am going to post a picture of the Kennebec River in January, when there was a deep freeze and then a quick thaw. Frozen river as far as the eye can see.
Here is what the Kennebec River looked like yesterday. All right, there is still snow and ice, but note the open water. For a Mainer, that counts as real progress toward spring.
Still, there are plenty of fascinating ice chunks. They almost look like rocks, don’t they? Those ice chunks are pretty darned thick.
Here is a closer look.
And then there is this for a mini-iceberg look.
In the upcoming weeks, I’ll be taking more pictures as the river continues to thaw, and spring, in its fitful way, comes to central Maine. I’m also thinking of taking weekly pictures of my little patch of land so that readers unused to deep winter can watch with amazement as our snowbound yard is released.
Somehow, this cycle of freeze, thaw, and rebirth never seems stale or repetitious to me. Each year, with amazement, I note the changes, and although it is the oldest story in the world, it always seems new to me.
Rivers, ponds, lakes, forests, and even yards all have their stories to tell for those who care to look.
Notes From the Hinterland 