Whitewashed

  

For the past 24 hours, the great State of Maine, and most of New England for that matter, has been facing whiteout conditions from an East Coast storm that has stranded millions of travelers and left many of us searching for the right four-letter words to describe Old Man Winter's vengeance.

Snow totals around the state range from 12 to 25 inches, and the wind continues to howl at around 40 to 50 mph. These are dangerous conditions, but skiers from Sunday River to Lost Valley are rejoicing now that the hills are drenched in white with sound of blizzard conditions.

And for the last six hours, my trusty snow shovel and I have gotten reacquainted with each other. But thanks to those tree-toppling winds, the roof on my house has been swept clean of snow, which means no roof raking.

The wood stove is cooking, the coffee is steaming hot and a can of tongue-burning soup goes a long way to stifling the chill in my bones after wrestling with the frigid elements that have been wreaking havoc on the good citizens of Maine.

But this neighborhood contains several good Samaritans, who don't mind steering their snow-eating blowers toward my buried driveways and clear away heavy snow that would take hours to remove with a shovel.

They are fine human beings who make wonderful, compassionate neighbors.  For their generosity and the cost of gas, they receive bags vegetables from my ample garden during the summer months. And on some occasions, they are rewarded with a six pack of dark beer from one of Maine's finest breweries. No domestic stuff for them.

But wait, there's more when it comes to winters in Maine.

it is only December, and although winter has already reared its ugly head, January and February are still the harshest months in winter-whipped Maine - a state where spring takes forever to arrive and the state's beautiful summers are just too damn short.

Two years ago, we had over 100 inches of the white stuff laying on the ground. I know winter is not done with me, but I am ready and now armed with a homemade snow scoop.

This treasured snow scoop, which is now included in my snow-fighting arsenal, was given to me by one of my good neighbors.

The scoop runs on human energy, and pushing this red iron monster is like trying to move a stalled Sherman tank through the mud during the invasion of Normandy.

But I am ready for winter, so let's see what you've got - Old Man!


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