WHEN IT’S WINTER UP IN MAINE…

Well, the noreaster (blizzard) has finally arrived in western Maine.    It was supposed to hit last night about midnight, but is must have stopped in Boston for some Baked Beans because the first light windblown snow started about an hour ago at seven a.m.

The news media is hyping this storm as a “monster storm,” but they are predicting less than two feet here in Maine.   Granted that is a considerable amount of snow in one storm, but for Christ sake this is Maine; and if you can’t handle a couple of feet of snow you need to move away.

Actually, here in the western mountains, it is not the snow we worry about; but as the snow accumulates the snow zombies roam down from Canada.   These are the creatures we scare the children with when they don’t behave: ‘The Canadian snow zombies will get you when you go sledding if you don’t eat your brussels sprouts.’

The danger from snow zombies is you can’t see them.   You are zipping down the ski trail on your cross country skis, or snowshoeing through the woodlot behind your house and the damn things rise out of the snow as you pass by, and are on you before you realize. 

Unlike the zombies in all the phony, unrealistic movies, the Canadian snow zombies often carry weapons.  They will either beat you to a bloody pulp with a carrion bone or slice you up with a sword before feasting on your body. 

   We won’t even mention what they will do to you if they catch you with your pants down taking a dump in the woods.   It is scary.

Realistically, you can’t kill a zombie.   They are already dead.  So, the idea that you can shoot them with a pistol or kill them with a cross bow is ludicrous.   The only thing the snow zombie is afraid of is a snow blower, and I gassed mine up yesterday.   

I don’t ski any more but I do occasionally snow shoe: but not this storm.   Because of the depth of the fresh accumulation forecast I think I will stay in the house until the threat of snow zombies has passed.   I will, however, have to go out back and clear and fill the bird feeders; so if I suddenly stop blogging you will know the worst has happened.

the Ol’Buzzard