March has arrived. And that’s just what it did. MARCHED right in. If you’ve been following my Blog, you already know I’m not a fan of the wind. It terrifies me. I’d rather drive in a snow storm, then drive in high winds. Tuesday, we had the biggest and strongest windstorm I have ever witnessed, here on The Hill, in all the years we’ve been here. I was nervous and nauseous. All day. 60mph supposed wind gusts. Making the temperature around -30°. I’m pretty certain they were sustainable winds. Not gusts. It just carried on and on. The house shook, rattled, creaked and moaned. Tree branches and debris bounced off the large windows. I kept the shades closed, so I couldn’t see outside and was extremely thankful for the plexiglass storm windows0⁰. Single pane lead glass, alone, couldn’t have handled that wind. At one point, in the afternoon, I took the dogs out. Our poor little,13 pound, Charlie stepped off the porch and sailed clear across the yard. The horror on his face was priceless. I couldn’t stop laughing. Poor guy. He was the joke of the day because that was the only thing I found any humor in. While out with the dogs, I noticed a good portion of our roof shingles scattered around the yard and out in the fields. When I looked up, the shingles we still had, were flipping and flapping like piano keys. Good thing we already had intentions for a new roof this year.
I also wasn’t sure if I would be able to do my Blog this week, as we lost our Satellite due to the winds. No Satellite. No internet and very sketchy cell service. Fingers crossed it’s fixed the first of next week. And that this posts!
The wind eventually mellowed, somewhat, not completely. The rest of the week has been “breezy” and cold. Next week looks fairly promising with sun and higher, milder temps. Just get through the next few days.
I’m not kidding myself, I know Winter isn’t over. The warmer days will bring mud season, then we’ll get a good snow storm. It’s inevitable. Driving on the muddy dirt roads, your not sure if you’re in a rut or if the heavy wet snow is actually pulling you off the road. It’s a great guessing game.
With spring around the corner, I’m looking forward to so many things. My sanity returning mostly. I also can’t wait to get outside, get dirty, dig trenches to divert the water coming from the fields (a favorite pastime of mine), raking up the yard and feeling the warm sun on my skin. Fresh air. To be able to open the windows and get the stagnant winter out of the house. Airing the quilts out on the clothes line. The sound of the peepers at night. Ahhhhh.
There is, however, one thing I don’t look forward to returning.
You always here in country songs something beautiful about a whipoorwill. Somehow, that god awful, yucky looking creature is romanticized. Maybe down South….not on our Hill, in Northern Maine. Nope.
A few years ago, I was staying at camp alone. No kids. No hubby. No dogs. Just me. It was after dark and I was painting the interior window frame. This particular window had been moved to the east side of the house at some point and was installed horizontally. Regardless, these windows are huge. I’m carrying on, painting the trim and sashes, listening to the radio. Then I hear a whistle. A loud one syllable whistle. Then a 2 syllable whistle. Like you hear a person do. My hair stands up on the back of my neck, my heart stops, then races. I’m inside, with a light on. It’s pitch black looking outside. I’m scared to death. Someone is just outside the window, lurking in the dark, watching me.
Then I hear…”Whipoorwill, Whipoorwill, Whipoorwill”.
Never, in my entire life had I heard a whipoorwill, but there was no denying that’s what it was. Sitting on our front step, right next to the window. Giving me heart failure.
Everytime I went to open the door, he’d take off. Then return to the steps. That’s where he perched his annoying butt, the entire night. Eventually, I called it a night and crawled into bed. My curiosity got to me. Being the Google Queen that I am, I looked up Whipoorwill. Well a whipoorwill is a nocturnal bird, spread throughout the Eastern US. It’s a ground bird and blends into it’s surroundings to hide from prey. It’s territorial and mating call is exactly how it sounds “Whipoorwill ” Yadda, Yadda,Yadda.. Then I read the myths and folklore. Supposedly, if it returns three nights in a row, there will be death. Lovely. Time for bed on that note. Due to my unwelcomed guest, I had to sleep with the radio on AND cover my head with a pillow. It was not a very restful night. That damn bird carried on until day break.
That was my first experience with a Whipoorwill. That summer we had four that surrounded us. One would bellow out it’s mating call, then the other, then the other and so on. For the first few years they drove me batty.
This past Sunday was beautiful out. Jesse and I spent the entire day outside. We were standing in the yard and we both heard this sound. It was the combination of a drop and a cluck. I mildly panicked and remembered it was February. With some investigating we noticed water dripping under my Jeep into an indent in the thawing ground. Jesse obviously heard and thought the same thing as me. Whipoorwills, when sitting and not calling out, make this noise, similar to what I just described. A water drop slash cluck. Once you pick up that sound, it’s over.
Even though I have been able to block them out and ignore them over the past few years, they like to remind me they are still around. Reaghan, our daughter, and I were sitting by the fire one night. The whipoorwill dive bombed right between us. Just last year, I was taking a photo of the house with all the lights on and again…it swooped inches from my head. Then again, as I crossed the yard. I grabbed a flashlight and shined right on it as it sat on the propane tank. All I could see was a dark blob with red beady eyes. We continued this game for awhile, from spot to spot he flew. Me ducking all awhile. I swear, those things are the Devil.
With the return of Spring, so will the Whipoorwill. I’ll just once again, have to program my brain to ignore them. Everything can’t be perfect ALL the time.
Off-Grid Soul 