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.

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.

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.”

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.