The title of this post sounds like something you might find on the marquee of a "B" movie theater or some low-rent Netflix on-demand video, but I'd argue it's actually the time of year when a person decides whether to live in northern New England.
There's some variability to each year in snowfall, temperature, and wind, but the bottom line from year-to-year remains largely the same: Spring might officially begin less than three weeks from today for the rest of the United States, but in these northern woods of New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine, Winter will remain in place for another 4-6 weeks.
Here, then, is how Winter unfolds in these parts.
Winter, Part I: Halloween to December 15th. Temps drop precipitously, dry land training occurs in earnest, and Night begins to envelope Day.
Winter, Part II: hopefully, Snow, baby, Snow. From the first serious snowfall of the season to the penultimate, this is the core of Winter -- far shorter than people might expect, generally lasting from mid-December to the end of February or early March. In these parts, I'd mark it both by temperature and the amount of snowfall in the deep woods.
And Winter, Part III?
Fact: Over the last 11 years, I've mostly hidden eggs and candy in the snow during Easter.
Fact: The coldest runs I take each occur over the next six weeks, as the earth remains frozen despite the increasing amount of sunlight.
Fact: Snow and ice are stubborn. After Winters such as we've enjoyed these last two months, when there is easily 5-6 feet of snow in my front and back yard, it will take either a Spring with temperatures of exceedingly high temps or (more likely) a lot of time to get the white stuff off the lawn.
Fact: One year, the ice mound in the cool, dark corner of my house remained in place until May. This year, it could happen again.
And so, when the rest of the world in the Northern Hempisphere is just a few weeks away from daffodils and crocuses, this world of northern New England still involves strong winds, cold temps, and mounds of snow. It's now, in Winter III, that a person decides to flee or stay.
I'd argue, in fact, that it's relatively easy to love living in northern New England for the remaining 10 months of the year. Spring is fantastic. Summer, warm but not oppressive like the rest of the climate-challenged nation. Fall, beautiful beyond words. And most of Winter -- assuming enough snow -- is just great.
But March to mid-to-late April?
Dicey. Awkward. Gray. Maybe even Ugly.
It's this time of year when the decision is made to become a Yankee.
Don't get me wrong: I'm here to stay. Tonight I loved donning my Lands End winter coat with strong hat and warm gloves while I walked Bear (my dog) as the wind howled and the field of stars twinkled above us. Tomorrow it promises to be below zero Fahrenheit in the morning, and by the time we head to the School District meeting at 7pm to vote on the annual budget, I expect the temperature will have fallen below zero again. I will walk to the meeting and back home again, with my lined Carharts and vest and the rest of the gear. None of it will will concern me in the least. I will relish the stubborn cold, and ask for more.
Fact is, it's easy now to beckon the outdoors to throw more punishment my way. Even here, over the next 30 days, will see an unmistakeable trend towards warming. Perhaps the snow in my backyard won't fade, but by the end of this month, it will be routinely above 35 degrees during the day and maybe even above freezing at night.
A neighbor of mine, who lives next to one of the dominant creeks in Lyme that flows directly into the Connecticut River, once described the calamity which occurs once his creek thaws as Winter fades. For most of Winter, this creek -- measuring six to 30 feet wide -- has been covered in snow and ice, its water flowing slowly and quietly towards the river and ultimately the sea. As the northern part of Earth tilts towards warm, as the daily high and low temperatures increase, the snow and ice begin to recede -- not quite giving up, but fading ever so certainly until one certain day. Then, in a period of 5-10 minutes, the entire creek bed becomes a torrent of water. The result is deafening. Suddenly, what had been a quiet Winter creek bed becomes a noisy, Spring thaw that lasts for weeks.
That is Spring in northern New England: Winter hanging-on, desperate, until its grip cannot last any longer. The result is deep mud on the roads, roaring creek beds, and grey skies for at least four weeks. By May, much of the ugliness is gone. Trees and flowers begin to blossom. Grass springs anew on the lawn. By late May, windows begin to stay open at night.
But for that moment to arrive, it takes a bit of a difficult journey to occur before this promised land of warmth can begin.
It's not for everyone, but it's for me.
And you?
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