Thursday, April 26, 2007

April 24, 2007

What a difference a week makes in the weather at this time of year! We have gone from winter to summer and skipped spring altogether, it seems. Mol and I were out in the canoe in the cove by the yacht club a few days ago, and tested the ice, which is slowly melting. We saw six loons as they swam by us at its edge. They were paired up and waited patiently to get to their nesting sites. They reminded me of runners approaching the starting line before a marathon.

As we rounded the cove by the yacht club heading for the Mill Stream, a loud honking started up, and in the distance we saw a pair of Canada Geese, the male making protective noises to warn his mate of our approach. They flew over us as we neared them on the shore behind the library. Several pairs of ducks also headed off as we continued our paddle.

Androscoggin Lake is filling like a bathtub, since the Androscoggin River is cresting and there’s nowhere for the water coming in from Pocasset to go, and we were able to paddle in and out of trees and bushes, where there is normally dry land. When we got to the edge of the ice, Mol insisted on hacking away at it with her paddle, in an attempt to get rid of it more quickly. I thought this was a futile and silly gesture, until I remembered that for the past several days I had been out on the lawn at home shoveling and raking the last of the winter snow to get winter to leave us finally and get on with the next season. It’s been difficult to deal with the weather these past weeks, and we so often find that April is like some cruel joke being played on us.

But yesterday was a record setting 84 degrees, and I exhausted myself doing yard work from dawn to dusk. I ache all over, but gaze out proudly at my brown, but neat, lawn.

Tubby’s is open, another sign of spring, the ice on Pocasset is breaking up, the flooded waters of the Mill Stream are receding, and as of this morning, the ice is officially out of Androscoggin. Time to get the boat in the water, and celebrate that, once again, life is good!

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Spring comes slowly to Wayne, dragging in with muddy feet, leaving footprints in the dirty snow. It’s a slow process that can’t be rushed, and raking that small brown patch of lawn too soon will only bring clouds, flurries, and eventually another snowstorm, as if to spit in your face and say, “Who are you kidding? It’s not time yet, you old fool!” I know- I ‘ve tried it before and have now learned patience in my more mature years.

But the signs are there despite the rebuffs from Old Man Winter. The buds on the lilac and the bright green shoots pushing through the munch, the sap that drips slowly from the wounded maple out front, and the herons that flap lazily down the length of the mill stream as Blue and I walk to the post office, speak of the inevitability of the coming season.

Neighbors appear on the street, leaving their warm dens like our Maine black bear does each year, and look at us as if trying to remember who we are after being “away”, literally or figuratively, since last December. I wonder where they have been all this time; we practice speaking out loud after months of reading, reflecting and listening to our inner voices.

Wayne seems like it always does; little changes on the surface of this small New England town, but there are some who sadly are no longer here, and others, strangers, who have come without our realizing it. The church held a newcomer’s dinner, and they were introduced to the town. What a wonderful thing to do! I remember vividly when we moved to town in 1976 that we were treated to a similar reception and how welcome it made us feel.

These are days when you feel like opening all the windows and letting out all the stale winter air and dust that has accumulated from burning the woodstove and the furnace for months. Spring cleaning happens every year because of this desire, particularly for those of us who spend that time indoors.

So the Open flag is flying again, and Molly is finishing up all the special orders that people hoped she would get to one day, and we are open for business, selling everything is sight at a discount as we do our spring cleaning in the shop. And we anxiously await the arrival of the loons, the eagle chicks on the island, the campers, and our wonderful summer visitors. Some, like the robins, will arrive early, to open up camp and to drop by to see what’s new at the pottery. Others will wait for school to get out before bringing their kids to the lake for another idyllic summer. Still others will arrive during their appointed week, having rented one of the camps, and hoping that they will be as lucky as they have in the past with the weather, and swim and sail and fish and sit idly on their porches watching the sunsets and listening to the haunting cry of the loon.

And so, as another spring snow begins outside the window, I look forward to warmer and happier times – and to your visit!