Two weeks ago we were in Maine, for the biggest snow of the season. In Maine, the biggest snow of the season is a big snow, 19" big. You can read all about it here, and here. Be sure to read the comments, too.
It turns out that in New Jersey, too, the biggest storm of the season is (or at least can be) a big snow, at least 12" big last weekend. After altering the world here, the storm rolled on up the coast and added another foot or two -- after awhile counting seems pointless -- to the accumulated pile in Maine. For an on-the-scene report, click here.
In Maine, winter is hard, and Mainers deal with it. The first snow that falls in November is likely to be the last to melt in, oh, April. It persists, and those who live there do, too. It more than persists, it accumulates. It's a trial, and can be a burden, even an overwhelming burden, if you let it. Snow is a condition of life there. It comes and stays for awhile. A long while. Snow, ice, sub-zero cold, wind ... deal with it. If you can't, don't go. It's a challenge some take on; it suits their need. Some endure. Some flee. Some prevail. And some are broken. Cabin fever is just another part of the deal.
The pictures here are of New Jersey, where icicles three feet long hung from the gutters, and where Life As Usual took a break for a day. We aren't as hardy, or perhaps hearty, as Mainers. And that's okay. Our trials are different, but with faint echoes: replace snow with traffic, which also persists and accumulates and (if snow is added) can become an overwhelming burden. You get the idea.
Our snows are different: while storms can arrive in wintry blasts and blanket us in deep drifts, the smart money knows the snow can be relied upon to melt away quickly. We're different, too, knowing and relying on the nature of nature here. We weather the storm -- we duck, take a break, shovel out, spread some salt, move on -- gingerly at first. It's like this: our big storm knocked out Monday. Tuesday the roads were slippery and the traffic snarled (more than usual). Wednesday we were dealing with slushy puddles. Temperatures Thursday were in the 50s. Most of the snow departed Friday. And on Saturday I ran the Asbury boardwalk through crowds bigger than any I've seen in nearly 30 years. Snow here is a distraction, an interruption -- not a way of life, not an existential challenge. Life's for more than winter. An alternate point-of-view: Winter's nice to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
Before the storm, crocus were just beginning to appear in our front lawn, wee bursts of yellow and violet sprinkled on brown grass. The snow gone, the crocus are still there, still small, and still glorious. They endure. They prevail, and in prevailing serve as pillars to prop me up, to help me endure and prevail.
A
2 comments:
nice first post!
crocuses are the best. do you still plant new ones once in a while?
to move the pictures around, you have to use your right click cut and paste features. to select the picture in the first place, click around on it until it turns light blue. it's very inexact. i'm sure there's a better way to go about it, but that's all i got.
also, the preview function doesn't really preview exactly how the blog will look, but i'm sure you figured that out already.
Although NJ snows are now few and far apart, I do have recollections of snowstorms in winter and walking down the middle of the street because sidewalks were impassable. I remember snow being deep, but then it was probably because I was small.
Now you are comparing Maine snow to NJ snow and there just isn't any comparison. As you said, snow is a way of life up here in the northern climes. We get used to it, live with it - it doesn't interrupt our lives. However, I enjoy looking at your pictures of the crocus and budding daffodils and I'm a NJ transplant Mainer who is ready for spring to come. Believe it or not, the snow is starting to melt (we've also had some warmer days) - I can see the driveway again - thats a start for us. Budding comes later next month. Winter is hard in Maine, but Spring is the hardest! That's why I like to escape down your way that time of year.
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