So cried the headlines of the Portland Press Herald this morning. At our little enclave in the woods two thermometers registered 95 in the late afternoon. Folks it ain’t even June yet! This morning I walked out to the road to get the paper and was in my usual warm weather attire: minimum everything, and I thought what a great morning to have coffee on the deck. So I hoisted the umbrella and did just that. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

It’s not unusual to have some warm weather in May. And last year I burned wood into the middle of June. Thing is, you just can’t depend on summer until the 4th of July. Even then…. I remember one year we went down to Bar Harbor for the 4th. I had on shorts, of course – it’s the law. I did have a sweater or sweat shirt with me, I don’t actually remember which, but my legs, which hardly ever get cold were freezing. I went into one of those Maineish clothing shops and got a pair of wool knee socks that saved the day for me.

The last thing on my mind in that heat yesterday was winter until Gregg, the farmer down the road who brings my firewood, came over with the first load of beautiful maple cut just right for my little Waterford 100. He usually calls but he said he had it ready and because he knew where to drop it he might as well bring a load on over. As we chatted by his huge International Harvester (yes you read correctly) dumper and swatted black flies, we spoke of cold weather, dwindling wood supplies, double paned windows, alpaca babies (he raises them) and the endless list of stuff one has to do when you have a house an acre or two. I’ll add – put wood in woodshed – to my list. Hmm. Just had a little twitch in my back.

It’s 9:00 and it’s already 79?. I constantly marvel at the extent weather invades Maine conversation. I mean, I get kind of bored talking about tall pines, rocky coast, azure ocean and babbling brooks. The weather never disappoints. It will surprise you, thrill you, challenge you, threaten to kill you, seduce you, make you wonder why the hell you live here and in quieter moments it makes you realize it is one of the major reasons you do live here. We’ve had one earthquake in the 30 years I have lived here. It was of a vestigial nature. I think one or two hurricanes have breezed through. Tornados are rare. There is some flooding next to rivers and streams. We do have our ice storms and storm tides. But all in all, I’ll take it over Lubbock or New Orleans or some Ohio flood plain subdivision.

You can’t tell it but I have knocked on wood between every five words. Nature, dear reader, is not our friend. IT is not our mother in that sense that IT watches over us caringly. IT is a coexisting partner on this planet who couldn’t give a fly’s butt about you or me. There are no guarantees. Meanwhile, I am going to take my final cup beneath the umbrella on the deck and contemplate my next move on this 26th of May. I’m not sayin’, but that move may be a new pot of dark roast.

1 Comment

  1. David Henderson

    I was going to be a meteorologist, but the thought of livin in that small cap-sul in outer space scared me.

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