Being involved with the rural North Country is like being in a bad love affair. The summer woos me with warm breezes off one of the Great Lakes and the river. It offers me lush greens and sunlit days. It entices me with many lavish experiences: picnics under the trees, quiet moments on the shore, spectacular thunderstorms topped off with rainbows, and evenings under the stars listening to the crickets and watching fireflies. It presents me with fantastic gifts, the sweet serenade of birds, the beauty of diamonds reflecting off the water, and bouquets of wildflowers from its fields. The skilled lover pursues me, seizes my heart, and convinces me of its unwavering devotion. I fall in love!

In the fall, my intuition whispers to me that things are changing, but my beloved is so magnificent in its bright reds, oranges, and yellows that I ignore the signs. I am caught up in the joy and exhilaration of the splendor. But its moodiness erupts suddenly. It frosts the countryside but quickly hides the evidence with a morning smile. I am bewildered, but I find solace in memories of earlier, carefree times. The suitor offers me even more gifts: ripe fruit from its orchards, fat orange pumpkins, and an Indian summer ablaze with color and sweet fragrances. There is still warmth, but the winds blow colder, and the clouds turn from white to gray. I soon realize that the glow of my summer romance is gone.

The North Country turns irritable. It shows its sunny smile less frequently, and the cold storms come. The leaves have been blown to the ground, and the trees stand in shame. My body and heart feel the coolness. I wonder how such a beautiful entity could change so much. At first, I make excuses and rationalize that things are not that bad and this is a passing thing. But the weather becomes angrier and angrier, and then there is snow. I groan when I first see it dust the green grass. The snow piles up higher and higher. Some days, the rain tap, taps on my window to play a cruel game of freeze tag, and I find myself alone in the dark, and I am afraid. I feel like a prisoner unable to leave my home. My relationship with this part of the world becomes a lovers’ quarrel. I wonder how I ever fell for the false promises, and I resent being tricked.

I turn away from the monster and go to my neighbors, family, and friends to complain. And soon, everyone in the North Country becomes part of an enormous support group seeking comfort and strength to endure the abusive demon. Day after day, the heavens crash down on us, but it seems that, hidden between the flakes of white, angels have been sent to help us learn patience. We stop resisting, accept the harshness, and, against the power of the villain, we become one. We check on each other’s safety. Our homes and community centers are open to strangers who happen to be caught in the storms. We gather to ice fish, quilt, or share a hot cup of coffee. Moving away from our raging disappointment, we move closer to each other and we survive.

But a deep bitterness remains, and as the winter goes on and on, I start to wonder if I should leave and never return. I need a more stable companion because I can’t take the terrible fighting any longer. And then suddenly, as if my tormentor knows my limits, it starts to smile. It knows it must be loving again to thaw my frozen heart. It drops its frigid demeanor and begins to melt some of the snow. It calls back the geese and commands the sap to run through the trees. I spy the first buds, the trilliums in the woods, the red-winged blackbirds, and my first robin. I smell the freshness of new beginnings. My transformed lover returns to me the things I cherish, the waters shimmer, and the sky is blue and clear again. I have an extraordinary sense of hope, and all is forgiven. I am in love again!
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People who don’t know the North Country always ask me why I stay. My answer acknowledges that, yes, the harsh weather can be unbearable at times. But the contrasts between the cold and the warmth, the struggle and the peace, the light and the dark keep me here. They provide a breathtaking intensity of experience that can not be described. Like the first drink of water after a day in the desert or a hug after a long separation, the beautiful moments in the North Country are incredible. Not one of these times is ever taken for granted, and with joy, they touch the hearts and souls of those who live here. During spring, summer, and fall, we live in paradise, and every day in those wonderful seasons is savored in a spirit of gratitude.

I also stay because of the other people who stay, hardy souls who have accepted the unpredictable temperament of the North Country. They have adapted and call this place home. In our towns, villages, and neighborhoods, we have formed an unspoken allegiance to each other that requires no laws or charter. We have formed a culture based on the ability to weather storms, and we instinctively know what needs to be done. This community spirit has developed so strongly that it is evident not only in inclement weather but at any time when anyone suffers a loss or faces a challenge. The question is never “Should I help?” but rather “How can I help?”

So I stay in this sometimes bad love affair with the North Country. At times, the relationship is very rocky, but I have learned to accept the inconveniences. With this spirit of forgiveness, I have come to truly appreciate the extraordinary power of this wonderful place and its great people. And isn’t that what love is all about?

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