Now that this winter is finally leaving us and we are enjoying the first hints of spring, I am anxious to get outside and start the task of cleaning up the yard. It is amazing how much debris accumulates over the winter.
There are chunks of tree bark, pine cones, twigs, limbs, leaves, pine needles and even a Popsicle stick or two left from a grandchild's visit last summer. There is no telling what other goodies await me under a few snow piles in shady places.
Our deck hosted countless birds, rabbits and squirrels throughout the winter eating birdseed fallen from our feeders. Sister, our black-and-white tuxedo cat, amused herself all winter poised by the sliding glass door, ready to leap through the double-pane glass to seize one of her feathered or furry friends. Alas, the snow has now melted from the deck and I am looking at the remnants from our little friends' four-month-long dinner party.
This northern Michigan winter was the coldest and snowiest winter that we have experienced in recent history. When visiting with old-timers in the area, some say that it has been 30 years since they've seen a winter like this. Paul, who is one of the owners of our local hardware store, keeps track of the snowfall. He measures it using a very precise and scientific method that would impress NOAA. Throughout the winter, when he opened the store, Paul would measure how much snow was on the deck railing located at the back of the establishment. He then wiped the railing off, readying it for the next snowfall. The data was recorded on a clipboard hanging behind the cash register and tabulated monthly. His records show that the winter of 2008-09 in Fife Lake yielded 201 inches of the white stuff. An impressive number south of The Bridge!
My weather station, as well as our gas bill, also confirmed an unusually cold winter. We've witnessed more sub-zero mornings this year than I can recall since our arrival on the scene. Our low for this winter was 21.2 degrees below (zero that is). We were hoping to make it to minus 25 just to have something more dramatic to talk about when reporting our winter conditions to friends and neighbors who took seasonal refuge in warmer climates. We affectionately refer to them as "sissies" and enjoy making them cringe as we inform them that the ground hasn't been bare since deer season.
Most of us have an older relative or neighbor who enjoys recalling a particular winter. Sometimes it is a childhood memory. Customarily it starts out with: "I can remember a winter back in the '30s when the snow was so high even the snowplow got stuck." It's like a game of one-upmanship. "We had to walk five miles to school and were so poor that we didn't have boots to wear." Lately I have even found myself doing this, which must be something that goes along with becoming a "geezer."
I remember winters when I was a kid and the snow piles were much higher than I was. Of course, back in those days I was only 3 feet tall! We all seem to remember a winter that seemed like the worst ever. Maybe, like a fish story, that memory grows more impressive with the passing of time.
My wife and I both enjoy winter and have no desire at this stage in life to become snowbirds. The changing seasons are just one of many things that attracted us to this part of the country. We recently returned from a trip south where we visited a few relatives. After our long winter, it was a treat to see bare ground even if some of it was still a dull brown. As we journeyed though Kentucky, Tennessee and North Carolina, it was refreshing to be welcomed by the flowering dogwood trees, the blooming Bradford pear trees and endless beds of daffodils in full array. After traveling for two weeks and not needing multiple layers of clothing and insulated boots, I grew attached to the warm-weather experience.
By the time we were heading home, I more or less expected spring to welcome us in Fife Lake. Instead we were greeted by most of snow that was here upon our departure and then received several inches of fresh snow the day after we returned. Back to reality.
The tide is turning now. Our friend, Peter, and his family have already harvested their maple sap and are just about done cooking it off. The driveway is clear of snow and I can see the gravel again. The robins, grackles and red-winged blackbirds have arrived and the snow geese are migrating north.
Before long the ice will be off the lake, the morels will make their brief appearance, summer residents will return and the seasonal cycle begins anew.
Ed Hungness and his wife owned their cottage on Fife Lake for six years before moving there after his retirement in 2005. His writing draws from life experiences and a love for the outdoors and northern Michigan. He can be reached at edhungness@yahoo.com or care of the Record-Eagle.
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