Throughout my life, I’ve encountered so, so many people who’ve moved to the southern United States to escape the cold weather and snow of the north. You must remember, I grew up in New York, a state most residents incessantly complain about and want to eventually leave. And being from New York, these people don’t necessarily desire a repeat of cold, snow, dirty roads, and expensive real estate. So they move to North Carolina, South Carolina, and Florida. It’s just a thing. I get it, but really, I don’t. I suppose some people are into an easier way of life. One where they don’t have to deal with things. For me though, I enjoy the struggle of it all. The discussions of the impending snow fall. The talk of some Joe right up over the hill who’s stuck in four feet of snow in a gully, without a prayer in the world. The driving around in the bitter cold in an attempt at finding the best cup of coffee. You can’t do these things in 80° heat.
You know what else you can’t do in 80° heat? You can’t go snow hiking in the middle of nowhere while simultaneously enjoying the fact that there’s not an insect to be found. You have to actually think about this one; it’s not self-evident. It takes a pause to recognize that you are, in fact, hiking through a forest, walking across a frozen lake, trekking along a snow covered dirt road or some field – and yes, the last bug you’ve seen was months ago. Once you realize this little tidbit of fact, your day will be that much brighter. And then you’ll begin freaking out because you’ll realize that spring is right around the corner.
Laura and I strolled our forest a few days ago, as we do every morning. Ever since we purchased the parcel next door and after I cut a beautiful network of trails, our walking, talking, and soaking it all in has become a tradition I wouldn’t trade for the world. Winter is perfect for these walks, but therein lies the problem. Or, part of the problem. While the winter months are great for hiking around the thick, the summer months are just awful. Between the humidity and the blood-sucking insects, we don’t even try to go out there. It’s such a shame too because most people consider the summer months to be the finest in Maine. If these people were being honest with themselves though, they’d agree that the months of October, November, April, and May are simply stellar. The rest? Well, I’ve got a serious issue with June, July, and August, and others would most likely endeavor to avoid December, January, and February. I don’t know why though. After all, if a person isn’t into the winter and all it’s got to offer, there’s some serious curiosity circling around the question of why they’re living in northern New England. We went for a walk in the snow up our road today. It was lovely. The cloudy skies, while normally dismal, gray, and oppressive feeling, were somehow settling and, dare I say, inspiring. Perhaps it had to do with the fog crawling across the snow. I’m not sure, but it was a worthwhile walk. We’re trying to get back out there after a short hiatus. I can’t recall at the moment why we stopped, but the hiatus lasted a few weeks. We’re now back at it.
Anyway, back to my story. It’s a quick one. As Laura and I were heading back inside from our aforementioned stroll, she said to me, “Do you know what I just realized we’re not seeing any of?” I replied, “What?” “Flies,” she responded. And just from that quick exchange, I decided to write this post. That’s the beauty of blogging. I get to come up with these ideas, really, out of thin air. It’s a good hobby for me. Succinctly put, when the flying insects are hibernating, humans are at liberty to enjoy the outdoors all that much more. And that’s a good thing.
It snowed about an inch last night and since the temperatures were above freezing, the bottom half inch is slush. I shoveled the sidewalk, but haven’t touched the driveway. I’m thinking that if I ignore it long enough, all that snow and slush will just disappear. In reality, I don’t think that’ll happen. Tomorrow morning, after the debacle has frozen solid tonight, I’ll head out there and sand the heck out of everything. I suppose this is why those folks I mentioned above move out of Maine and the rest of New England. To get away from things like this. I’m not sure what they’d do to replace these types of activities, but to each his own, I suppose.
Happy New Year. I wish you the brightest and most prosperous 2025 you can imagine. Have a great night.
