The horror that is spring in northern Maine

FORT KENT, Maine — Ah, spring; ever the muse for scribes who wish to wax poetic about the seasons’ renewal, love, passion and new birth.

Consider the words by 18th Century Poet Thomas Gray:

“The Attic warbler pours her throat,

Responsive to the cuckoo’s note

The untaught harmony of spring:

While whisp’ring pleasure as they fly,

Cool zephyrs thro’ the clear blue sky

Their gather’d fragrance fling.”

I’d be quite willing to bet if Gray had never been to northern Maine in April, his “Ode on the Spring” would have instead been an ode to mud and ice.

Now, I love northern Maine. Perhaps the only thing I love more is my little piece of it that is Rusty Metal Farm.

But even I am having a tough time right now waxing poetic as I look at friends’ colorful social media posts of blooming flowers, green grass and freshly tilled garden plots.

The Fiddlehead Focus / St. John Valley Times is pleased to feature content from our sister company, Bangor Daily News. To read the rest of “The horror that is spring in northern Maine,” an article by contributing Bangor Daily News staff writer Julia Bayly, please follow this link to the BDN online.

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