Last week at this time I contacted Kevin Burnham, editor at the Boothbay Register, to say that my column would be delayed. Snow had drifted up the front door. I couldn't get out. He said he understood, sharing that he hoped to resume the search for his car and begin shoveling.

I removed the glass panel from the storm door from inside and faced chest high drifts between me and the tractor shed. We needed to open up the lane to the state road. It was quite a slog. But we “got 'er done,” eventually.

Getting to the office, two football fields away, was another matter.

Although the snow was light and fluffy, it was remarkably uncooperative. Our tractor's bucket is relatively small, holding what I'd guess would be about five 40 pound bags of dog food. There was a lot of dog food between me and my computer!

Fortunately, I was able to clear a path to the office before the paper's deadline, then chart a course to other locations we look after. For example, “The Old Firehouse” up in Boothbay Center, now home for a market and an upstairs apartment. There was a 10-foot pile of snow in front of the building. I finally got a path opened up, one shovel at a time, on Friday. I'd guess passersby must have chuckled to see what I had undertaken. “The Little Engine that Could” came to mind.

Finally, after days of clearing out, we got a break in the action and some time to have a look around. The region reopened offering a chance to “enjoy” what Mother Nature had delivered.

In my first black and white book, “WINTER”, circa early '80s, I staked out some favorite spots. “Goat Rock” on Barter's Island, afternoon on Spruce Point's western shore, Dover Road, Back Narrows. You know the drill. Revisiting was fun.

Pool closed.