The Four Seasons

For a few brief weeks it was spring and all was right with the world. For another few brief weeks it will be autumn and glorious. I wish I could remember to grab the good times when they're here, but I always forget they are so fleeting. Now here it is again: Summer in Maine.

One way you know for sure is that it is not snowing. That's a nice change, but the ice dams on the roof have been replaced by black flies, mosquitoes and constant itchiness. Late afternoon thunderstorms knock down trees and cause power outages, bringing with the inevitably muggy darkness that grating sound of generators in the neighboring houses occupied by native Mainers who know what's what. The persistent noise keeps us dumb New Yorkers from opening our windows, causing suffocation and bad moods.

The problem is the same year after year: We should have a generator but don't. Just like getting snow tires in winter, it's on the list but never a priority until it's needed, and then it's too late. We say we'll get one this weekend but we won't because who wants another gas guzzling or propane sucking machine fouling the environment? Besides, walking around in circles at Home Depot trying to find someone who works there makes me dizzy.