Spring , A Time of Discovery
by Catherine Shaw Bowker
From the glistening white whipped meringue snowbanks to snowbanks of brown sugar , the roadside and fields are now a dirty , soggy , muddy mess . This is spring in Aroostook County – or as we call it , mud season . Along with the grime , muck and a few patches of leftover snow , the sides of the roads are dotted with empty beer bottles , fast food wrappers , cigarette butts and the occasional single boot or glove . One has to wonder who would toss his boots from the car , let alone only one of them .
Spring is a season of freedom and discovery . As a child it meant being released from snowsuits and snow boots , and if you were lucky and your mom wasn ’ t looking , sneaking outside without a coat . Adventures abounded in the spring – mud puddles to splash in , animals and plants to observe as they came to life once more .
Close observations brought huge rewards most of the time . One warm Saturday morning my cousin happened upon an awesome puddle on the school playground . Knowing this was one adventure we could not miss , my cousins , my siblings and I grabbed our rain boots and headed to the playground . Looking back I realize this puddle was actually a flooded baseball field . About a foot deep , it was large enough for the six of us to comfortably form a circle and waddle around flapping our arms and quacking like ducks . We had a blast ! Of course , being children and the tallest of us only about four feet , this “ puddle ” came over the tops of our rainboots and we were soaked by the time we got home . In response to our mothers ’, “ What did you do ? You are soaking wet !” we applied children ’ s logic .
“ But we remembered our rain boots !”
When not playing ducks or making mud pies , we scoured the yards and fields of our neighborhood pursuing hidden gems . As detectives , we did not unearth much of value . Like the sides of the roads , the areas we examined in our quest for treasures contained mostly trash , animal droppings , dead leaves and the occasional nickel . On a good day we found a trophy like an army man or a Matchbox car left to fend for itself when it owner ’ s interest waned .
Sometimes the excitement came not from our own discoveries , but from nature itself like the time our cat wrestled a muskrat in the dead of winter . The muskrat , likely ill , lost the battle and spent the winter in the middle of the backyard . After a few days the novelty wore off , and we forgot about the muskrat now covered with fresh snow . When spring finally arrived and the snow melted there it stood , a muskrat popsicle flash frozen like a wooly mammoth , staring accusingly at the house . Of course , no one wanted to remove it so we did what we usually did with distasteful clean up jobs , covered it until Dad came home . My brother drew the short straw and covered the offending critter with a cardboard box . My spring investigative work now consists of hunting for something lost during the winter like my husband ’ s glasses or the key I dropped , neither of which were ever located . Out of curiosity I do still scan the yard , parking lots and the sides of roads for interesting objects .
A recent parking lot discovery was a wet No Parking sign lying next to a damaged fence where the sign once reigned . I also found a piece of car bumper . Hmm , someone had a bad day last winter .
Sometimes our discoveries are just plain baffling like the silver apple in my sister ’ s yard , the six foot piece of PVC pipe leaning against a tree in the woods or the bathroom sink sitting atop a patch of snow along a major road . At least two of these items can be explained .
SPRING 2017 9