The weather begins to break in April. While there’s a lot of variation during the month between the multitude of locations in Maine, a person can be sure of two truths; the air warms and the light becomes plentiful.
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A Personal Blog
I spend a lot of time outdoors and beyond that, I spend a lot of time writing about the outdoors. While I wouldn’t necessarily call myself an outdoorsman, per se, it certainly is a big part of my life. If there were ever a category for this topic, it’d be right here.
The weather begins to break in April. While there’s a lot of variation during the month between the multitude of locations in Maine, a person can be sure of two truths; the air warms and the light becomes plentiful.
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If I had to describe the month of March in Maine by using just two words, the words would be light and mud. There are no other words that describe the month so succinctly. The sun sits much higher in the sky than it did during the months of December, January, and February and the snow and ice truly begin to melt in earnest.
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February is a rough month in Maine. While December can be autumn-like if we’re lucky and while January can be light on the snow at times, February is winter. Downright winter. And for most years, it’s when the greatest quantity of snow falls. Week after week. In snows during February.
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I was talking to a friend the other day when he mentioned how nostalgic certain scents could be. As he said this, I thought of campfires, cologne, coffee, and apple pie. I asked what he was referring to. He replied, “The smell of a 2-stroke engine just started up. There’s nothing like it!” I was forced to agree. If you’ve ever ridden dirt bikes or ATVs (otherwise known as trikes and quads) in the 80s and 90s, you’re most certainly familiar with their very distinct type of smoke. The only other exhaust that holds anywhere near the aforementioned nostalgia is the smell of a diesel truck warming up on a cold winter’s morning. I’d have to say though, dirt bikes and quads – nothing brings me back quite like the smell of their exhaust. Why? Because it once led to so much more than just a bike idling in a driveway. It always led to adventure and a day’s worth of gloriously good times.
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This is a quick post about an adventure of sorts Laura and I experienced just last week. We ran into town during a snowfall and on the way back to our home, visited a local hemlock forest as well as spotted some bald eagles perched alongside a field. What was initially a somewhat boring chore-filled day somehow transformed itself into isolated moments about which to write. This is why it’s always important to bring along a camera, wherever you’re off to. If I didn’t have my camera with me during this short trip, I surely would have regretted it.
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Have you noticed the sun hovering just a tad bit higher lately? I have. Every morning while Laura and I eat breakfast in the kitchen, I’m forced to close the front window curtains at around 11AM. If I don’t, the sun that slowly creeps across the sky will ever so hesitantly, yet persistently, blind me. As of late though, I haven’t had to close the curtains. The sun’s trail now strides above the window’s edge, out of reach of my tender eyes.
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January in Maine is legitimate winter. There are hardly ever any warm days sprinkled in like there might be during November or December. It’s winter. It’s cold. There’s no way around it.
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Guess what we did a few days ago. We visited the Sugarloaf Outdoor Center here in Maine. Why? Because I took Laura out to a birthday lunch at Longfellow’s in Kingfield and the outdoor center is right up the road in Carrabassett. It’s only a 15-20 minute drive farther north on Rt. 27, so I figured, “What the heck. Let’s do it.”
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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.
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I better get on with this post as December is nearly at its end. As I sit here and type, a bitter cold breeze is blowing. What we’re experiencing right now is a far cry from what we experienced at the beginning of the month. This year, December came in like a lamb and will go out like a lion.
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