“The sun was warm but the wind was chill./ You know how it is with an April day/ When the sun is out and the wind is still,/ You’re one month on in the middle of May./ But if you so much as dare to speak,/ A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,/ A wind comes off a frozen peak,/ And you’re two months back in the middle of March.” – Robert Frost, “Two Tramps in Mud Time”
People imagine it would be tough to survive a Maine winter on the islands, but it is often the month of April that I find the hardest to get through. Out here, that “wind coming off of a frozen peak” is coming off the waves at sea. This year, on the last day of the month, the water temperature was only 41 degrees. I know because I was dipping with friends on April 28 when we had a sunny day with air temperature in the low 50s. By the afternoon of the 29th, Bruce said, “I think I’ll get a fire going in the wood stove. It’s just so raw outside.” Robert Frost aptly describes the weather of this dreaded month.
Not every April is bad. In 2020, after the first month of COVID, April was incredibly warm and sunny, as if Mother Nature was compensating for the global pandemic. I was active in my garden weeks earlier than usual. In 2021, I loved April again as, thanks to vaccines, we finally felt safe to travel to see the grandkids after eight months of staying apart.
This year, April was a bear. The month brought snow, frost, and rain, with very little sun. The state of the world didn’t help. I would wake with the same kind of anxiety I felt in April 2020, checking the news first thing to see if anything “bad” happened overnight. I’m extremely troubled by the senseless war in Iran and by the lack of any saving grace from our current administration. I look for an escape from my default moods of rage or depression.
As I write this, tomorrow is the first of May, and it would behoove me to take a little inventory of the past month to find some love to counteract my hate. I planted over 100 bulbs in my fenced-in garden last fall so I could watch their steady promise and progress all month. Most of them survived the winter and are almost ready to open. I love having colorful blooms that I don’t have to wait until June to see. I was able to do a bit of April gardening, and the muscle soreness was a welcome reminder I was getting in shape for more good gardening days to come. A buzz of energy started to build as more islanders readied for outdoor work in May. I loved seeing the fishing boats come back to their island moorings after a winter on dry land. The migrating birds also started to arrive. When goldfinches visited the feeders they came by the dozens, their bright new plumage an echo of the daffodils and forsythia that were out. A cheery color no matter the weather. I also read more books in April, which feels like a win.
This inventory helped me remember April wasn’t all bad. It reminded me to be grateful that I get to survive my worst month in such a beautiful, peaceful, and remote spot in a tiny community that I love.
Barbara Fernald lives on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island). She may be contacted at Fernald244@gmail.com.
