e are working our way through another one. The winter of 2015, brought back the snows and cold that all of us who live in Northern New England have come to both love and hate.
This year our New England winter seemed to be good to us. We flew through November, December, and half of January hoping that global warming had minimalized winter’s harsh effects. This was not the case. As I look into a bleached open field that once contained bushes, trees, and a mailbox I only see deserts of white blowing snow.
Any day now I expect Laurence of York to come flying over the dunes in a giant snowmobile warning people that the end is near. Along with the weather of winter comes another famous tradition; cabin fever anxieties. Cabin fever comes in many forms.
The name comes from the necessity to stay in a house to stay warm and dry. The days are shorter and the nights seem endless with the below zero wind chills and perpetual humming of our heating systems.
Strange things happen to us during this time of year. We become aggravated by the most trivial of things. For example, I enjoy those little pudding in cup snacks they sell at most grocery stores. I guess this is because I was fed the little jars of custard pudding baby foods when I was little until I was a senior in high school.
The only problem is that you can never tear off the plastic top on each portion. I understand there are arrows showing where one is supposed to pull but the easy open tabs never open. The company must use the same glue they use to keep the airplanes together.