Spring in Maine

There will be signs.

You fall for an April Fools gag. They are not, in fact, building a gondola to whisk people up Mt. Battie.

You’re finally done with the wall that took all winter. Time to pick up the leftovers.

You load every last stone onto the truck and realize too late you’ve overdone it. Spring is mud season. You’re halfway up your hubcaps in it.

Two hours later, with the help of the excavator and a tow strap, the truck is free from the mire. The lawn you were cleaning is more than a little worse for the wear.

It was warm enough to handle all those stones without gloves today. The button on your laptop that recognized your fingerprint doesn’t recognize you any more.