On surviving my first snowy spring

A recent snowy hike in Blue Hill. Photo by Natalie Feulner

March 21, 2013 was the first day of spring. Snow filled the ground and I quickly realized that there would be no cherry blossoms, no bright green buds covering the trees. But I loved the experience nonetheless.

You see, I love weather. And more importantly, I love that I live somewhere now with changing seasons – each one with its distinct characteristics, smells and food.

I love that there are in-between times of 65 degrees, rainy days right when we need a cozy afternoon inside or puddles to splash in and sunshine-filled afternoons perfect for picnics.

I love that weather connects us to one another, especially here in the state of Maine. As families and friends, we gather to watch storms from windows or in front of television screens. Go out to shovel your walk after any major snow storm in Maine and you’ll meet most of your neighbors out doing the same and often willing to swap stories of seasons past.

“Reminds me of the blizzard of ‘78 … or this is nothing compared to what we got when I was a kid in The County.” We come together to help each other, offering fans to cool during the hot and humid days or raking a neighbor’s lawn during the height of peak.

This winter has been a long one, especially for this California girl who has only known Maine as cold (I moved in November.) And yes, I’m still surprised that there aren’t even leaves on any of the deciduous trees.

But when I think of the alternative — no seasons or only two, hot and cold — I think I’ll stick with Maine for awhile. Because here there is weather. It is reminding me to let go, to run, play and enjoy the change however slow it may come.


But when I think about the alternative – no seasons or only two – rainy and hot, I think I’ll stick with Maine for awhile. Because here there is weather. It is reminding me to let go, to run, play and enjoy the change, however slow it may seem to come.