December's song is Snowy Day. Coincidentally, today we're getting our first big snowstorm of the season. I'm trying to like the white reflection bouncing around inside and off the apartment walls. I am enjoying watching my son play around in the backyard, trying to excavate the huge pile of leaves that he raked up. We went for the first ski of the season yesterday at our local hill, Titcomb Mountain. It was great. Titcomb is a little mountain but it's five minutes away and it's inexpensive. Plus, it only has t-bars so you get extra skiing practice by having to ski up the hill, too.
But I digress from the point of today's blog entry, the Snowy Day song. I don't think I've ever played this song live. I wrote it quickly one night at my kitchen table in an apartment in Orrington, Maine. It was December. That turned out to be a cold but relatively light snow year, We got a few big storms in December followed by rain that washed the snow away. The temps were cold but the snow didn't come back, a miserable way to spend a winter in Maine. I remember writing this song quickly, thinking about how much I enjoy the water, yet also how much I enjoy snowshoeing, skiing, and the feel of the landscape when it's covered in white. I'm always pining for the beaches, though, or the open expanse of a river or lake to swim in, or sail on, or paddle up. I've only been to the Carribean once. Don't know if I'd come back if I went. This song kind of sums that up for me. I dream of warm waters, sandy beaches, Jimmy Buffett and steel drum music wafting lazily out of a beach bar...yet I really do enjoy skiing and snowshoeing.
I think one of the reasons I'm drawn to Maine is that it has a Carribean attitude. The pace of life is slow, the people are laid back, and people live here because they like the place. I don't know anyone around here who doesn't enjoy either the woods, the views, the waters, or the pace of life. Is it hard to make it here? Some would say yes. I don't know, I think my personal jury is still out on that one. It's a balance. The balance usually leans towards the positive. Yesterday, while looking at the views before racing down a snow covered slope, the balance shifted drastically towards the positive.Watching the smile on my son's face as he raced down the slope was priceless. That's what Maine's about.
So back to this song. Yes, it sums up my dreams of island living. Yes, it mentions my affinity for the northern climate of Maine. Yes, I haven't played it in a long time. Does any of that matter? I don't think so. It's a fun song that I enjoy listening to on occasion. Would I like to be swaying on a beach? Absolutely. Do I want to be skiing? Absolutely. Man, I am torn.
I once found myself in Ft. Myer's Beach around this time of year. I spent some time on the beach, some time swimming (the locals thought it was too cold), and some time wandering in an out of a beach cantina. The floor was covered in sand and no one cared if you had shoes on or not. I, of course, did not. The Coronas were cold, the limes were fresh, and the cool waters of the Gulf of Mexico were just outside, waiting with open arms for a swim in between rounds. This song was written with that experience in mind. I recently heard a friend mention cheap airfare (have I heard that in a lyric somewhere?) and I'm pondering...I can always ski when I get back, right?
But I digress from the point of today's blog entry, the Snowy Day song. I don't think I've ever played this song live. I wrote it quickly one night at my kitchen table in an apartment in Orrington, Maine. It was December. That turned out to be a cold but relatively light snow year, We got a few big storms in December followed by rain that washed the snow away. The temps were cold but the snow didn't come back, a miserable way to spend a winter in Maine. I remember writing this song quickly, thinking about how much I enjoy the water, yet also how much I enjoy snowshoeing, skiing, and the feel of the landscape when it's covered in white. I'm always pining for the beaches, though, or the open expanse of a river or lake to swim in, or sail on, or paddle up. I've only been to the Carribean once. Don't know if I'd come back if I went. This song kind of sums that up for me. I dream of warm waters, sandy beaches, Jimmy Buffett and steel drum music wafting lazily out of a beach bar...yet I really do enjoy skiing and snowshoeing.
I think one of the reasons I'm drawn to Maine is that it has a Carribean attitude. The pace of life is slow, the people are laid back, and people live here because they like the place. I don't know anyone around here who doesn't enjoy either the woods, the views, the waters, or the pace of life. Is it hard to make it here? Some would say yes. I don't know, I think my personal jury is still out on that one. It's a balance. The balance usually leans towards the positive. Yesterday, while looking at the views before racing down a snow covered slope, the balance shifted drastically towards the positive.Watching the smile on my son's face as he raced down the slope was priceless. That's what Maine's about.
So back to this song. Yes, it sums up my dreams of island living. Yes, it mentions my affinity for the northern climate of Maine. Yes, I haven't played it in a long time. Does any of that matter? I don't think so. It's a fun song that I enjoy listening to on occasion. Would I like to be swaying on a beach? Absolutely. Do I want to be skiing? Absolutely. Man, I am torn.
I once found myself in Ft. Myer's Beach around this time of year. I spent some time on the beach, some time swimming (the locals thought it was too cold), and some time wandering in an out of a beach cantina. The floor was covered in sand and no one cared if you had shoes on or not. I, of course, did not. The Coronas were cold, the limes were fresh, and the cool waters of the Gulf of Mexico were just outside, waiting with open arms for a swim in between rounds. This song was written with that experience in mind. I recently heard a friend mention cheap airfare (have I heard that in a lyric somewhere?) and I'm pondering...I can always ski when I get back, right?