IT'S LATE NOVEMBER as I write this, and there is a "freelance" purple chrysanthemum still blooming in my little dog memorial garden.
I planted three small mum plants at the front of that garden a few years ago. To my surprise, each year for a few years they came back. Then just two reappeared. And now just the one. And a hearty and healthy little guy it is, making it pretty much to Thanksgiving.
Not far from the mum, between the garden and the driveway, a dandelion is in bloom. A dandelion. Usually a symbol of spring, dandelions are among the first wildflowers to bloom, giving early-arriving bees something to feast on.
Not far from the dandelion is another yellow-flowered "weed," tall with flowers still blooming across the driveway in one of my raised beds not far from the birdfeeders. I have no idea what it is but it was pretty with spikey green seeds pods and snapdragon-like flowers very much in bloom. I haven't seen a butterfly or bee in quite some time, but at least one bee could be surviving on these late-blooming plants.
All a bit amazing in my opinion. I apologize for pulling the "when I was a kid" card, but ... when I was a kid it was just as likely it would already have snowed by Thanksgiving, especially when it is as late in the month as this year, even in my Seacoast hometown which tends to be more temperate with Dover Point (and the Piscataqua River) being a natural dividing line. There was a good chance our family trek from Kittery Point to Ogunquit, Maine, to feast at my aunt and uncle's would be a treacherous drive.
Now on the Seacoast it seems it is unusual to snow a plowable amount even by Christmas.
I admit, I am not a fan of snow. Not that I mind the snow itself -- it is pretty, and deep down, the born-and-raised northern New Englander in me gets a looking-forward-to-it feeling by early November.
I don't mind occasionally being snowed in -- with the incessant, detailed weather forecasting these days we are more likely to be over- than under-prepared. A little extra food, some hot chocolate and perhaps something to "spill" into it, some good snacks and it's kind of nice to be forced to hang for a day or two.
No problem having plenty to read -- I have a large enough supply of unread books (the physical ones as well as the electronic ones) to last the rest of my life. (The Japanese word for this is Tsundoku -- meaning either the act of acquiring books and not reading them or the unread stack itself. I call it "money in the bank.")
What I am not a fan of is snow removal. Think about it. What a colossal waste of time -- relocating something that is 100% going to melt. The problem is it doesn't melt for weeks -- perhaps months. And thus the need to remove it.
I have spent hours of my life shoveling and snowplowing and snow-blowing. Going back to "when I was a kid," my dad had a side gig plowing driveways for folks in our town; if plowable snow fell over the weekends or school vacations, I would accompany him, for which I would receive a few bucks (for doing absolutely nothing but probably driving him crazy with questions).
Spending time with my dad and getting a little spending money was a fun way to move snow. But freezing and getting wet and waking up with a sore back is not a fun way to move snow. If I ever retire, I will either move in the winter like many do, or I will lay in weeks of supplies and simply wait for it to melt.
Today included a brief winter tease -- it was not below freezing but around 3:30 I went out to tend to the horse and flakes were swirling around in the wind. They were barely visible but it precipitated (haha) my first-of-the-season pronouncement to my husband that "it was snowing when I was out" sort of like the spring "ice-out" announcements on lakes: You really can't do anything with it yet but it signifies a turning point.
Like us, the wild animals all know. We're trying to tidy up the last area of leaves or get a load of firewood closer to the house, cover the air conditioning unit, make sure the generator works and switch from screens to storm windows. Squirrels are finishing caching their acorns between bouts of gorging themselves on all the mealworms in my feeder while a male bluebird glares at him from the top of the feeder pole.
Despite the fact that my horse is still enjoying grazing on grass that appears to still be green, those of us who remain in northern New England all know it: Winter is coming and with it will come cold, snow and, yes, snow removal.