FORT KENT, Maine — Now is certainly the winter of my discontent. And while Shakespeare’s Richard III may have gone on to wax poetic about summer “made glorious by this son of York,” I’d be happy for any sign of summer at all — glorious or not.
Yes, I am well aware that according to the calendar we are in spring, but having just filed the most recent in an unending stream of winter weather advisory stories this year, it’s time to say enough is enough.
So here it is, Mother Nature: I surrender, you win. After my 35th winter in Maine, you finally got the better of me.
Certainly, I am not alone on this one, nor have I endured the worst of winter’s cold shoulder this year.
My friends and colleagues Down East and in Bangor have experienced record snowfall totals this year as storm after storm moved up the coast to pound them.
Been there. In 2008, northern Maine registered its own record snowfall, when more than 15-feet fell that winter.
I remember how it feels to look outside my living room window and see only snow. I also remember looking around outside and knowing all it would take is one more good storm and I’d be out of room to push the stuff.
But Mainers are known for making lemonade — or in this case slushies — out of lemons. In 2008, we ended up celebrating our record-breaking snow milestone with a massive snow-plow parade down Fort Kent’s Main Street.
Good times I am trying to hold onto in the face of yet another National Weather Service winter weather advisory, which is looking to put the “Easter” in nor’easter this weekend.
I mean, is it me or does this winter seem like that annoying house guest who arrived early, makes messes without cleaning up and refuses to leave?
Normally, I like winter and all the activities therein — dog sledding, skiing, snowshoeing, tossing wood into the wood stove.
But conditions this year were unfriendly a good part of the time, with weeks of sub-zero temperatures, icy trails and prolonged windy periods, all of which combined to make winter a bit less fun at times here at Rusty Metal Farm.
Then it got real.
Not long ago, in a “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” moment, I decided if winter was going to hold on, I might as well play along.
Heavy winds had drifted over my trail network on the farm, so I revved up the snowmobile and headed out for an hour or so of grooming.
It was tricky. There were drifts where I’d never seen them before, but I was maintaining forward momentum right up until I got sucked off the trail into a massive and very deep snowbank.
No amount of pleading, cussing or standing and staring at the trapped, 500-pound snowmobile had any effect.
Corky the shusky always accompanies me on these grooming adventures, and she certainly enjoyed the half-mile trudge back to the house for the shovel and the walk back.
Here is what I learned on that walk: When one is walking outside on a rather windy day, one should avoid slinging a shovel over a shoulder lest the wind catch it and drive the handle into one’s jaw.
A half-hour or so of digging, pleading and more cussing, and the beast was free.
At least, free until it fell into the hole created by all that digging.
This time there was no getting unstuck. So Corky and I abandoned ship and called in reinforcements.
The next morning, my friend Bob Berry came over and was able to get the snowmobile free and back home, where it has remained parked and idle ever since.
Not that I’d have time for things like grooming, given the flood that hit my shop.
I knew melting snow was seeping into the shop below the bay door, but the floor drain was taking care of things nicely — right up until the moment it froze.
There was a time not long after the passing of my husband when the sight of 3 inches of water backed up on to the floor of his beloved shop would have sent me over the edge.
In this instance, I simply stared at the floor drain — which had as much impact as staring at the stuck snowmobile did — before shutting the shop door and walking away.
Two phone calls later, and I had the right guys with the right gear up here to thaw out and clear that drain.
A quick trip to town to purchase several 50-pound blocks of salt gave me the ammo needed to help melt the glacier in front of the shop’s bay door responsible for all that water.
Some expert tractor and bucket work at the hands of my logger-neighbor Andrew cleared that ice down to dirt.
After that, for a brief period of time, I actually began to feel like I had a handle on winter.
Until this latest forecast.
“Plowable” and “significant” were the words the National Weather Service used to describe how much snow we are in for this weekend.
That means I’ll need to fire up the Rusty Metal Farm tractor to move that significant amount of snow.
But before I can do that, I need to figure out how to get the chains that are currently half off back on one of the front tires.
It’s been suggested I use the tractor’s bucket to lift the front end off the ground, let the air out of the tire, pull the chains back on and then reinflate the tire.
Sounds simple enough.
Or, I may simply pack it in, surrender and run up the white flag to winter.
Only problem is, no one will be able to see it against the new snow.
Julia Bayly of Fort Kent is an award winning writer and photographer, who writes part time for Bangor Daily News. Her column appears here every other Friday. She can be reached by email at jbayly@bangordailynews.com.
