Conciousness was just beginning to overtake me early yesterday morning as I lay there listening to the steady freight train roar of the wind and watching the trees in Baxter Woods out back sway wildly in the gray light.

The storm was blowing through full force.

Then, from the front of the house: Crack! Boom!

The noise woke me completely, and so excited my cat Molly that she made like a flying squirrel and leapt from the hallway over the bed in one bound and was gone into hiding, barely missing my face in flight.

The radio crackled and went dead. And I knew at once that the effects of this storm were going to last a bit longer than most for folks in my neck of the city woods.

Downstairs, looking out the living room window, my fears were confirmed.

Half of the big red maple in front of the house was now out in the street, completely blocking it from curb to curb. And with it came a tangle of telephone and electrical wires from the house. Along with bits of gutter and whatnot.

Uh oh. Red maple down, power out...
All photos by Carey Kish

Hmmm. What to do?

No power. Not today. Not for a long while most likely.

I grabbed my backpack, dug out the cook kit and alcohol stove, set it all on top of the now impotent kitchen stove, and set a pot of water to boiling for morning coffee.

Indoor camping, April-in-Maine-nor'easter storm style!

Cup of strong brew in hand I crawled back upstairs, snapped on my headlamp and relaxed to a morning of book reading and hike planning.

Edward Abbey got some page time. Then the latest National Geographic Adventure and Backpacker mags.

But my new guidebook to the Cohos Trail got most of my time. I read and read and penciled notes in the margins and added up mileage from the charts. I planned food caches and overnight stops and generally daydreamed about the coming joys of a two week, 162-mile thru-hike through the mountain wilds of northern New Hampshire in early August.

My kind of rainy day entertainment.

Somewhere during all this excitement a wonderful nap overtook me. And I woke with a start sometime later with an overwhelming urge to get outside into the maw of the storm.

On went the fleece and raingear, the camera into a plastic bag and it was off to the Fore River Sanctuary for a look around.

Wow!

Jewell Falls was churning in a massive, rushing torrent, just barely making it under the little bridge before crashing down the hillside. A Class 6 death wish kayak run for sure.

What a truly incredible sight.

Jewell Falls flowing full tilt during yesterday's big storm.

I photographed the falls up and down and stood for long minutes in the wind and rain transfixed by the power of the water flowing by at my feet.

Just for reference, this is Jewell Falls early last November.

Back at the car I couldn't help but take a drive around to check out the destruction around town. Huge trees were down everywhere. And at Back Cove four-foot waves were breaking over the bank at the foot of Vannah Avenue.

A belly full of breakfast at Steve and Renee's, some new batteries for the radio and I was back home for the day.

Perhaps I should have skipped the stop for the batteries. And satisfied myself with the quiet. Because as soon as I popped them into my radio I heard the news of the atrocities at Virginia Tech.

My heart sank. And I felt disoriented all over again. Barely a week after the sudden death of a friend in a skiing accident, now more senseless loss of life. My normally thick skin was rubbed raw. What the hell is going on with this world anyway?

It's no damn wonder really, is it, why I and others spend a good deal of time planning escapes from this kind of crap. The news is mostly all bad. We seem to have lost our sensibilities.

And only outdoors it seems, on the trail, on the river, wherever it is that's far away from the radio and TV, can we rest and rejuvenate and find peace and sanity.

With that thought I lit the kerosene lamp, put a can of beans on the campstove and went back to the pages of the Cohos Trail guide and that part of the future which I can affect positively...

My day job took me up the road apiece to Bangor over the past couple of days. So I had plenty of time and miles to observe the transition of the seasons, even if only through the windshield of my car.

Yep, the roadside along I-295 and 95 is brown and clear of snow. And up into the woods there are but patches of snow. The residue of winter is disappearing fast.

Just the way I like it: A goodly amount of snow in the mountains still for some great spring skiing, and down along the coast and into the inland hills, fast drying bare ground for hiking, biking and generally gettin' outside.

Spring has indeed sprung! Thanks Ma Nature for all you do!

And wasn't today simply glorious? What are you doing with this beautiful weather?

Spring!

What a beautiful day. With a fabulous spring weekend in the wings.

You can see the warm sun doing its thing on the snow along the roads, on the lawns, in the woods.

Yes, the seasons they be a changing.

It's exciting and energizing, wouldn't you say?

Just think...

Last week's big dumping of snow has ensured at least another month of good spring skiing. Not bundled up in fourteen layers, but rather a turtleneck and windbreaker. Beers on The Beach at the Loaf, BBQs cooking up at Bullwinkle's. And nice soft corn snow underski. Reggaefest. Ya mon!

Oh yeah.

Reggae Fest returns to The Loaf April 13-15.
All photos by Carey Kish

Then there's day hikes to be done. New peaks and trails to be explored.

I've got Mt. Pisgah, Monument Hill and Mt. Chase in central Maine on my list. Tunk Mountain and Lead Mountain Down East. Mt. Cutler (I've never done the entire loop!) and Peary Mountain up Route 113 way.

Have you hiked any of the above? Love to have some beta if you have.

Plenty o' fun day hikes to be done around Maine this summer...

Then there's a host of state parks to visit.

I've been hankering to get way out to Cobscook Bay to camp and take in some sea kayaking and hiking. North to Aroostook County and its state park at Quaggy Jo Mountain, and maybe a side trip on the IAT on Mars Hill. A tentsite at Mount Blue would be sweet, with a trek up Mount Blue (another one I've missed) and a paddle on Lake Webb. And the islands of Lily Bay on Moosehead Lake demand some exploring by canoe or kayak, while just up the road from the park, Number Four Mountain beckons.

You been?

There's trail maintenance to be done, a section of the AT to be opened up and cleared of blowdowns in mid-May. Interested in helping out? Check the MOAC website for details.

AT trail maintenance is fun and oh so satisfying. Wanna jump in and help?

The season's first extended backpack will be on the Monadnock-Sunapee Greenway Trail, a 50-mile hike through the hills of southern New Hampshire, over the long Memorial Day weekend (Thurs, May 24 thru Mon, May 28). I'd love some good company. Let me know.

So much backcountry to explore, so little time!

And sometime in late July or early August I'd like to tackle the 162-mile long Cohos Trail thru the wilds of northern New Hampshire. Hopefully I can work it out and make it a fundraiser for the folks at the Cohos Trail Association. Good trail company would again be very welcome. And $$$ to the CTA would be even better.

Well, that's all the notes I've scribbled so far on things to do this spring and summer. Gimme a beer, a pen and a cocktail napkin and I'm likely to come up with more, so stand clear.

What's on your outdoors to-do list? Hikes? Bike treks? Mountain climbs? Kayak and canoe paddles? Please do share...

Where will you and your canoe be headed this spring and summer?

Just yesterday I was whining (imagine!) to a friend that I was getting pretty sick and tired of the cold and wind and yet another winter with so little snow.

Gimme spring, I says. I mean, if we're not gonna have snow, let's get on with it, shorts and Tevas like.

Well, that was yesterday...

Now, with the forecast for the "big one" about to strike Maine hard tomorrow (shades of the '93 Storm of the Century perhaps?) I'm all excited for winter all over again.

You too, eh?

If all goes well it's predicted to be 8-12 inches on the coast, 18 inland, two feet in the mountains. Maybe more.

Woo-hoo!

I just love winter! Have I told you that?

Are you ready to go play in the snow?

Oh, those halcyon days of summer!

T-shirts, shorts, Tevas... Remember them?

Remember when?
Photo by Carey Kish

Ha! Gotcha!

The deep freeze of January is on here in Maine. From 1 degree in Portland to a balmy -16F up in Caribou. Ouch. And how about that -77F (with wind chill factored in) on Mount Washington. Brutal.

How long are we going to be locked down by the cold? Hard tellin'.

This is a crazy winter. Just like last year.

Global warming, you say? Yeah, right.

I just returned from California where temps hit a chilly 17F (unheard of and mondo cold for southern Californians) and it snowed 4 inches in the desert. Half the citrus crop killed just north in the San Joaquin Valley. Who would've guessed?

Anyway, at least our ski areas can make some snow and that ain't a bad thing. They need it. We downhill skiers need it.

But snowshoers and snowmobilers and cross-country skiers need it, too. So a little (or a lot) of that natural stuff sure would be a bonus.

Whaddaya say Ma Nature? If we've got to suffer with the cold can we at least get some real snow to go along with it? Please?!

It seems to happen every year about this time.

The tally for this past holiday weekend: One death and two near misses.

Traffic accidents?

No.

Overly eager outdoor enthusiasts--this time a cross-country skier, a snowmobiler and a walker--out on thin lake ice way too early in the season and paying a huge price.

It doesn't have to happen.

So stay off the damn ice until it's safe, OK?

And how will you know that?

Well, employing the powers of that lumpy weight on your shoulders would be a good start.

Then check out what the Maine Warden Service has to say: "Thick and blue, tried and true. Thin and crispy, way to risky."

The MWS has got a whole page of 'do's and don't's' when it comes to recreating on the ice of Maine's lakes, ponds and rivers. Look it over good before you head out.

And when you get there, if conditions aren't right, don't go out!

Personally, after enough close calls over time, I'm half scared to death about going out on the ice. So I venture out on my skis or snowshoes only after good long cold spell (i.e. a deep freeze), and even then I'm leery.

But then I'm not an ice fisherman or a snowmobiler looking to take heavy machinery out there. You folks have got to be good and sure.

Check out this video on saving yourself after falling through the ice. It'll scare the poop out of you, but'll give you some real good instruction on what to do if it does happen.

And I know there's a tool that ice-bound travelers can wear around the neck on a lanyard--an ice hook of sorts. I've known of it to be used to help you get a grip on the solid ice to pull yourself out to safety.

But I can't find it. Maybe somebody out there can and let us know.

Bottom line: Please be careful. We don't want to be reading about you in the obits. Got it?!

Leave your rusting downhill skis on the roof rack of your car long enough and... voila!

Snow!

Could be that the continued presence of my skis up there projected some major energy to the snow gods, who responded in kind with a pleasant dumping of the fluffy white stuff.

Ironically, I'm currently reading The Celestine Prophecy and this could be a sign of the Fifth Insight at work... just kidding, of course!.

Rusty boards and prophecies aside, we've got snow baby!

3-5" around the city, and 5-8" in the mountains as I understand it.

Woo-hoo! Hmmm, wonder what we should do this weekend?

What a wild weekend on the weather front, with the heavy rains and sustained high winds.

I fully expected some livestock to fly by the house, like in the tornado scene of the Wizard of Oz. But no cow took flight that I'm aware of.

One good result of the storm winds: 80% of the ugly political campaign signs appear to have blown away.

I like that. A lot.

I much prefer the natural autumn colors on our street corners, the oaks and maples and such.

I can do without all the political crap. Seems this year Mother Nature can too.

OK, so I couldn't be outside hiking on this beautiful fall day.

Work, you know.

You too, eh?

But at least I had my camera with me while I traveled about.

And was able to enjoy some of the fall color that's still left on the trees...

Near Capitol Park, Augusta.

Baxter Woods, Portland.

Near Back Cove, Portland.

What will it be this winter, shorts or ski jacket?

Hard tellin' if you listen to the NOAA weather forecast.

Try this helpful statement for Maine:

"The outlook is for equal chances of warmer or cooler than normal for Maine."

Gee, thanks guys. That's brilliant!

I could've come up with that one.

So glad the government is on top of things. Makes make feel infinitely more safe and secure. Among other things.

As for the upcoming winter weather, this amateur meteorologist predicts the following:

It will be colder outside than it is now. It will snow. I will ski. And I will drink some beer.

You can bank on it.

Beyond that, who cares?

It was cool enough for a fleece vest on my morning walk today. Doesn't bother me a bit though. I like the brisk air. It's refreshing, invigorating.

And it signals change.

Summer is fleeting. Yeah, there'll be some more warm days, but you know when Clayton Lake up north starts making the news as the coldest spot in the US in late August (31 degrees this AM) that autumn is on its way.

Another sure sign, and a favorite of mine, is the appearance of the orange fruit on the American Mountain Ash trees around town. Sorbus americana if you're a tree nut like me.

A colorful mountain ash on Stevens Avenue in Portland this AM, a sure sign of autumn.

For years the mountain ash has been the tip off, the "back to school" sign. Time to wrap up summer's fun and get on to other things.

Like the best hiking of the year.

Those fleeting six weeks or so when our forests slowly change color; the tinges of yellow, red and orange taking over as the chlorophyll recedes back through the stems of the leaves.

Suddenly it seems we are bathed in brilliant color at every turn. For a precious couple of weeks. Then the winds will blow and the rains will come. And the show will be over.

But not the hiking.

For I've come to extend my season well into November, taking advantage of the uncrowded trails, shelters and campsites. The late colors. And finally, when the trees are bare, the far off views that are revealed once again, unseen since early spring.

Yes, change is in the air.

Breath it in. Deeply. Revel in it.

Then pack a few extra layers into your daypack. Maybe a Thermos of hot cocoa. And go.

My day job takes me to Boston for most of next week. A little city action. All good.

But then it's home to Maine and off to the other end of the spectrum: a few days of backpacking in the Nahmakanta Lake region. Maybe a climb of Katahdin. But outdoors and away from it all. All the way.

So, my dear Trail Head friends, fall is almost here. What are your big outdoor plans? For the long Labor Day weekend? For our most precious September? October?

The Time & Temperature Building in Downtown Portland said it all at 3:00 this afternoon.

Jeez, even my toenails are sweating.

Hmmm.

Towel, sunscreen, swim trunks, cooler.

Check.

OK, I'm outta here...

Yep, finally. The official start of summer is just about here. The long Memorial Day weekend.

Thank goodness. I'm sure ready. You?

Family, friends, grilling, swimming, cold ones, shorts, Ts, Tevas, throwing the frisbee, maybe even a little sun (I know that's asking a lot, but...).

Enjoy folks. And please do it safely.

And given that summer's now on its way...

Ever been out to pretty Barefoot Beach at Sabbathday Lake in New Gloucester? It's a beautiful spot!

Well, the new owners, Becky and Ashton, have put a new name to the place: Outlet Beach. And they've spruced things up nicely over the winter, and are ready to open for the season this weekend.

At Outlet Beach you can lay about in the sun on the sandy beach, swim in the crystal clear water; put your boat, canoe and kayak in and take a trip up the lake, picnic among the pines, and enjoy ice cream and delicious munchie foods from the snack bar.

It's a great spot to relax and unwind, whether it's a weekend day or a weeknight. So come on out and enjoy!

I'll see you out there...

If you've always been fascinated by the way Mount Washington generates its own weather--mostly bad weather it seems, and mostly when I'm hiking up it!--then you may be interested in the program tomorrow night at 7PM at the Falmouth Memorial Library in Falmouth.

Life at the Top of Mount Washington: Weathering the World's Worst Weather will be presented by former Mount Washington Observatory weather observer and current WGME meteorologist Sarah Long.

And what do you know? April 12th is the anniversary of the world record setting wind speed day on Mount Washington, recorded at 231 MPH in 1934! That's quite a gust, eh?!

Should be a fun and informative program. RSVP requested. To do so, call 603-356-2137 or email mnester@mountwashington.org.

See you there...

By the way, if you've never seen Breakfast of Champions, you can purchase the DVD, or check it out the next time you're in the Mt. Washington summit museum (it plays continously). It's a hilarious short video of coping with the mountain's high winds.

The skis are there, like usual. Clothing and gear duffle too. My pass hangs on a nail by the door.

I'm ready for the weekend.

How about you Ma Nature?

You gonna continue to soak us and chill us to the bone with this depressing rain, or what?

I wanna know.

Just in case you don't come through I'm hedging with some alternate plans (with all due respect, of course)...

OK, so I finally got outside this afternoon. And quickly shed the fleece jacket.

Yep. It was T-shirt only (and pants and shoes, of course) as I walked in the woods out back of my house.

What gives?

I mean, I'm not complaining that much. But what the heck happened to February and March?

We just gonna skip them and get right on with spring?

Say it ain't so.

My skis are right here by the door. Waiting patiently. And they don't look happy. Hopefully, they don't go Stephen King-weird-like on me and attack me in the middle of the night.

So, thanks for the breather and all Mother Nature. But could you please throw a little snow our way soon?!

Uh oh. I think my skis just made a move toward me... Hurry, please. Snow!!

Warm sun, blue skies, red pines and afternoon shadows in Baxter Woods.

Feathered friends enjoying a nice afternoon at the duck pond, Evergreen Cemetery.

... let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

I can't imagine why, but I think I'm finally in the Christmas spirit!

You too, you say?

Ayuh.

Could have something to do with the SNOW outside my window, but I'm not sure.

What I am sure of are the ski conditions up in the mountains, where Sunday River says it's been "dumping all day" and Sugarloaf says it's "snowing hard" up there.

Not to difficult to figure what we're gonna do this weekend now, is it?

Duh!

I just came in from outside and I'm soaked.

Ugh.

Rain. Gray. Dreary. Yuck.

Thank goodness it's a short week.

I was hoping to tank up heavily on bird and just about anything else that comes within arms reach on Thursday, then lie on the couch in a tryptophan-induced state of immobilization and general laziness watching movies on Friday.

Figured maybe I'd make for the mountains on Saturday/Sunday for some skiing so to work off the excess food and sloth.

Is skiing gonna happen? I dunno.

Looks grim with all this rain. It's raining at Sunday River today. Sugarloaf too. But the forecast is for a cold spell and maybe even a some snow on Thursday. At least they should be able to make some more snow.

Better put the ski rack on the car and get the gear packed and by the door. Getting in a few respectable runs to work off the holiday excess may just happen after all.

It'll be worth a shot anyway. And good to belly up at The Bag or the Sunday River Brew Pub after, whatever the snow conditions...

Sure it's nice out.

Today. Maybe all this week.

But it's coming. You know it is.

Cold, damp, dreary, dark weather.

Months of it.

But I've got a plan...

Hiking in the Caribbean!

Yah, yah, mon.

Volcanoes, beaches, jungles, warmth!

Calling my favorite travel agent. R-i-g-h-t... NOW!

And in order to ensure complete enjoyment of any such hiking adventure, I've investigated the other important stuff. It appears there's a wide variety of refreshments available to put a smile on any tropical hiker's face.

We're just a couple of days into Daylight Savings Time, but already I can't take it.

I'm SAD.

Yesterday I was out hiking at Laudholm Farm in Wells and the shadows were loooooooooong at 2:30! Damn.

And right now I'm looking out my office window at the downtown Portland skyline. It's 4:45. And it's pitch dark.

Sigh.

The folks at the Seasonal Affective Disorder Association (SAD) define SAD "as a type of winter depression that affects an estimated half a million people every winter between September and April."

Uh, yeah, and most of them live in Maine I'll bet.

I know, I know. It's going to take a little getting used to the idea. Always does.

But soon enough we'll be out skiing and snowshoeing and doing other fun outdoor stuff aplenty. In the hour and a half of winter daylight that we're allotted. Woo-hoo!

OK, planning a trip to Costa Rica now. And maybe the Keys. Or Southern California. Or all three.

Sun, baby. Gimme sun!

Yup, it's raining again today. It rained yesterday. It's probably going to rain tomorrow.

Seems like we endured a similar soggy, gloomy holding pattern earlier this year, didn't we?

If you're stuck inside today, a little antsy, you can still make the best of it.

Crank open a big window, throw on a fleece, grab a good book, pull up a chair and relax to the sounds and smells of the rain. And pretend that you're miles away in a wilderness cabin, like Thomas Merton, who wrote these beautiful words about rain...

The rain I am in is not like the rain of cities. It fills the woods with an immense and confused sound. It covers the flat roof of the cabin and its porch with insistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms I have not yet learned to recognize... I came up here last night. The rain surrounded the cabin with its virginal myth, a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, and rumor. Think of it: judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the woods with water... What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone in the forest, at night, cherishing this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself all over the ridges, and the talk of watercourses everywhere in the hollows. Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks I am going to listen.

With the winds blowing to beat the band outside my office window here in downtown Portland, I got a little curious to know what it's doing on top of the big Rock Pile.

Not as bad as I thought.

It's blowing a steady 56mph on the summit of Mount Washington right now, with gusts up to 78mph, and the wind chill at a crisp 25 deg F. Not even a hint of sun up there today though, according to the summit webcam. Check it out.

Sun, wind or not, I'd still rather be up there than working...

Sun! Blue skies! Warm temps!

Hiking weather!

YES! Finally.

Time to pack up the gear for the weekend. A long awaited hiking weekend. Going to get the Gazetteer, maps and guidebook out and pick out a few good ones. Then throw everything in the car and just go.

I might even leave my rain gear behind. Just for yucks.

Hmmm. Can you say f-l-o-o-d warnings? I knew you could.

Let the fun begin...

"Both sides ahead. Dig it in. Hard!"

It could be worse. All this precip could be snow... like it is on Mount Washington. Of course, I'm deranged enough to not mind that, since my ski gear is still right in the hallway. I could go for a few more turns. But I digress...

It's been snowing every day up on the rock pile for the better part of a week. 90 mph winds have been common. And today it's more freezing rain and ice. So bad that summit crews have been forced to use "shovels, mallets and crowbars" to open doors!

Workers on the summit seem pretty resigned that, for them, spring is a long way off.

I know the feeling, folks. I know the feeling.

Right about this time three years ago I was nearing the end of a 100 mile trek through Scotland along the West Highland Way. In weather strikingly similar to today... gray, wet and cold. But at least I expected it to rain a lot in Scotland in May.

The first two days out of Glascow (the trek begins a few miles outside the city) we had warm, sunny weather. My hiking companions and I even dared to joke that, wouldn't it be something if we returned home from Scotland of all places with a tan.

Well, that was certainly a rather silly thought.

We awoke on the morning of the third day to a light mist. As we walked along the last few miles of Loch Lomond and climbed into the higher hills, the mist turned to a steady drizzle. And by the time we reached the muddy track on the outskirts of the little village of Crianlarich, it was a full-on heavy rain.

Surprisingly, we reveled in the weather. It added to the Scotland experience. After all, it was supposed to rain there.

And it did, every day for the rest of the trek. Thank goodness for cozy inns and pubs each night!

So today I figured, what are the chances that it's nice weather in Scotland while we sit here in Maine marooned in this endless crappy weather pattern.

I'm happy to report that today it's also raining in Glascow. But the forecast for the next few days is drier and warmer with partly sunny skies.

That's a better forecast than we'll have.

It's got to end sometime. It will, won't it???

You didn't actually think I'd skip a day without having something to say about the rain, did you?

Uh huh.

It's on everybody's mind. It's bigger news than the Red Sox. It got so bad the other night that friends and I were actually laughing hysterically at the flummoxed TV meteorologist and his forecast of a "prolonged wind and rain event."

Did he actually say "hoochiemagawa" in reference to the rain? Yes, he did.

Anyway, as my mind continues its steady transformation into the consistency of cottage cheese with this weather pattern, I thought I might look into possibility of building an ark.

You know, just in case. Just in case it NEVER STOPS.

Hey, I like whitewater. Why not ride it out in an ark. Maybe catch some big waves.

You'd be welcome on board. In pairs, of course.

Another Sunday night of unpacking wet gear. Another Monday morning of wet. Another long range forecast of wet.

I've made the requisite offerings to Chac the rain god, but with no success.

I'm turning into a human mold.

How are you holding out?

Listen Matt, you and me, we've gotta talk. I saw your weekend weather forecast this morning and I'm not happy. Rain. Rain for five weekends in a row.

You've got to help us out Matt. Please. We're dying out here. We've got to have sun! We want to get out and hike and bike and paddle. Yes, we have foul weather gear. And we know how to use it, sure. But I didn't buy a rain suit to live in it!

Oh my God, I think I'm whining. No, I am whining. Get yourself together boy. {slap, slap}

Okay, my gear duffle is packed. Day pack too. With rain gear. {snicker} And I'm headed up to the Sugarloaf area to look at some real estate and get a hike or two in. Weather forecast be damned.

I'll be thinking of you Matt. Warm and dry at home. You have a good weekend now...

I left the house this morning dressed in the usual layers of fleece and windbreaker, expecting more of the same damp and chilly weather that has been the norm for however long now.

But then, as I walked around to the car, I felt something.

Hmmm. What is this?

Sunshine.

Warmth.

And now, as I look out my office window (which I do a lot rather than actually work... shhh!!!), I see the temperature on the Time & Temp Building has risen to a balmy 57 degrees and the sky is bright blue with only a smattering of wispy clouds.

Could it be? Could spring finally be here... to stay? Could it really be possible to be outdoors without a full rain suit on?

The forecast for the weekend even looks reasonable. I shutter to think, but it might actually be time to hike in... shorts!

Mini-snowman on top of Caribou Mtn. last weekend.

Given the spring weather, it looks like this could be the last snowman of the season...

It was a little frosty on the summit Mt. Washington at 9 a.m. this morning. A temperature of -5 F and a wind speed of 24 m.p.h. combined for a bone-chilling wind chill of -36 F. Ouch! Can you say hypothermia ???

Did you see the incredible display of the Aurora Borealis last night? I was traveling north on the Maine Turnpike just south of Portland around 11 PM last evening when I saw the unmistakable green streaks in the northern sky.

The Aurora display ranged from long green streaks high into the sky to short streaks far across the horizon. At one point the streaks glowed a bright lime green, like one of those Cyalume light sticks used for camping.

Wish I could have enjoyed the show more, but I was busy trying to keep the car on the road! Did anyone get photos of it?