Like many places in the country, Maine seems poised to raise the curtain on a grand political farce that should keep us all entertained for the next few years. As a fan of theater onstage and off, I am eager to play a modest role. And so I've come up with a proposal that will change everything, that will show those [suitable epithet here] who's really in charge here — without, I hope, actually doing any lasting harm to the environment, the exchequer, or the state of basic human rights.

        

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Happy the man who can ride all the way home from Portland to Lincolnville with his son at the wheel. For that man may lean back and take in a bit of scenery, instead of buzzing dronelike up an endless two-lane asphalt ribbon with his eyes locked warily on the SUV ahead.

Sometimes you feel the climate of Maine is being controlled by a madman. Other times, the weather settles down into being one thing or another for a long stretch, and you wonder if the madman has fallen asleep on the sofa, or maybe lost the remote.

Then there are pivotal moments — this is one of them — when the gears of the seasons mesh smoothly, great changes happen around you in an orderly fashion, and you entertain, however briefly, the idea that perhaps after all there is an Intelligent Meteorologist up there.

This is Maine, where anything can happen — and probably will, eventually — but as things stand, it's shaping up to be a rare week when those of us who cannot afford waterfront property are a tad relieved about it.