Yet, as I write this Tuesday morning, the wind is so bitter outside that despite my Columbia fleece, it felt like I wasn’t wearing a jacket and the prospect of 50 degrees and sunshine forecasted for Saturday is sweet. 

Every year, the prospect of spring and summer is just as exciting as the first snow that fell in December, but every year, winter lingers – and there’s the inevitable late season storm.

Two years ago, I had grand plans to fly to Washington D.C. and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with my cousin, his fiance and friends. As the snow fell, I kept checking Manchester airport for cancellations and packed my suitcase. When it came time to head to the airport, my flight was still scheduled “on time.” 

Mom dropped me off at the airport, I checked in and 30 minutes before take-off, the flight was cancelled. By that point, mom was halfway back home, white-knuckling the steering wheel and praying she would not to join the slew of cars off the road. She wasn’t turning back. 

I booked a hotel and took a taxi. All I had for shoes were Crocs and flip-flops. I was cold, grumpy, getting hungry and could have really used a beer (or two), but of course I managed to book the one area hotel without a restaurant and better yet – without a bar. 

My weekend away on spring break was squashed and I’ll always hold a grudge against Mother Nature for snowing me in. 

The first day of spring on the calendar also prompts the question from my mom and I, “Can we open the beach cottage yet?”

And my grandfather and dad say, “No.”

We have to wait one more moon phase, one more month, before cracking off the boards, turning on the water and electricity and thoroughly cleaning the cottage that has been sleeping during winter. 

Sometimes waiting that extra month doesn’t help though, because the same year as the St. Patrick’s Day storm, Maine encountered the Patriot’s Day storm. Dad scrambled to secure the boards on the cottage and watched anxiously as three extremely high tides slammed against the sea wall with waves crashing over the tiny building.

Luckily, the cottage only lost a few shingles while homes a couple miles north on the coast fell into the ocean. 

The storms so far this winter have been harsh to weather, dropping more than a foot of snow almost every time and knocking out power for a long time after the ice storm in early December. Maybe that’s why everyone is sharing their enthusiasm for the arrival of warm days and sun.

I hope, by this point in March, we’re out of the woods. I’ve broken out my flip-flops a couple of times already – my toes welcoming the freedom and the spring air – but I also hold my breath watching every extended forecast, waiting to see if one more winter storm will grace us. 

– Emma Bouthillette