Wwe 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.

The other day I got so frustrated trying to open my Swiss Miss tapioca pudding cup that I resorted to using my teeth. Needless to say it took a bunch of paper towels and ice to stop the bleeding. I still didn’t get the thing opened. Using a snow blower to clear my driveway was kind of fun during the early days of winter. In fact, even during the early storms pushing the machine through the snow in order to free my cars out of my garage made me feel adventurous to the point of almost feeling heroic.

During the blizzards of 2015 it seems more snow is deposited behind me than I pushed out of the driveway because of the hurricane force winds that happened to define what a blizzard is. Snow no longer is the white cottony fluff depicted in most Holiday Cards. It becomes billions of little needles ripping into any part of your body that isn’t covered by at least six layers of clothing. Any moisture emanating from any orifice of your body becomes immediately frozen to the point icicles appear in places that icicles shouldn’t go.

The other day, as I was walking into the kitchen from my now filled driveway, I think I scared my wife into believing I had frozen to death. During this time of year the telephone becomes the machine from hell. I get at least a dozen calls a night from people trying to sell me things I could not possibly ever need or want.

The classic aggravation comes from the computer that makes the calls that hesitate to answer when you answer the phone. All you hear is a silent void that either rushed you away from the dinner table or rushed you from a place that has become your only quiet domain.

If you hang up on these calls they will surely call you again right after you return to your meal or whatever else you were trying to do. I once called the Telephone Company and asked them to take me off all the telephone solicitation sales lists. After that I didn’t get a call for three weeks. No one called me. I began to think that the Telephone Company put me on the list for people who were presently deceased. Television is another medium that becomes maddening during this time of year.

The football season is over and Saturday and Sunday afternoons have become the domain of ice-skating, gymnastics, golf, and x-sports. Who in their right mind wants to see the tanned bodies of people playing in a land that has never seen the snows of New England?

Of course there is always the NBA or the NHL but after watching a bunch of spoiled self-gratifying egomaniacs play a sport that was once filled with professional pride I guess ice skating, gymnastics, and golf isn’t that bad. So, here we are enjoying an incredibly evil winter. I just hope my wife will talk to me again by the 4th of July.

But, things are not all that grim. The pitchers and catchers of our baseball season will meet in Florida in about two weeks. Watching a bunch of spoiled self-gratifying egomaniacs playing a sport in short sleeved shirts is not that bad because it represents a time that hopefully will be allowed to come back soon.

The End.

What can one do during and after the “Blizzards of 2015” by J. G. Fabiano.

Jim Fabiano is a teacher and writer living in York, Maine You can reach him at: james.fabiano60@gmail.com