The television and newspaper reports referring to Wednesday’s “intense holiday storm” that blasted Maine had me wondering, “Holiday? What holiday?” It soon became apparent that the “holiday” alluded to was Valentine’s Day, which, unless you are presently living in ancient Rome and got the day off from work to honor Juno, queen of

the Roman gods and goddesses, was no holiday at all.

For assurance that I wasn’t imagining things, non-holiday-wise, I hauled out the dictionary, turned to the word “holiday” and found this definition: “a day marked by a general suspension of work in commemoration of an event.”

Valentine’s Day a holiday? Not exactly, no matter how many times “Valentine” is mispronounced “Valentime” by a lot of people who should know better, including some who are trying to sell you flowers and chocolates for your sweetie. I have a suspicion that the ones who insert the “m” in Valentine in place of the second “n” are the same goobers who delete the first “r” of February to come up with the discordant “Febuary,” although I must admit I haven’t spent a lot of time researching the deal.

But if Valentine’s Day is no holiday, I’ll tell you what is: It’s the day after the professional weather worriers scare the population half to death with dire predictions of killer snowstorms arriving overnight. If ever there were a day “marked by a general suspension of work in commemoration of an event” this would be it.

Just ask state Sen. John Martin, the grand ayatollah of Eagle Lake. On Tuesday, when all legislative committees that had scheduled public hearings or work sessions sent out notices they would not be meeting on Wednesday because of the pending snowstorm, Martin groused that he couldn’t understand why events and meetings were being canceled before any snow had fallen anywhere in the state. They sure don’t make Legislatures like they used to, the former speaker of the House implied.

I have to say that I’m with His Ayatollahship on this one, and I suspect that you may be, as well. How many times have schools and various organizations canceled events on the assurance of weather forecasters that the end is near, only to have the day of the predicted apocalypse turn out to be as fine a blue-sky sunny day as ever graced the planet? How many times has school been called off because of allegedly treacherous road conditions, only to have the neighborhood teenagers pile into a car and head for Sugarloaf and a day of great skiing?

“What amazes me is that the weather announcers have been wrong all year, and here we are believing that they are going to be accurate tomorrow,” Martin said, as reported by Mal Leary of the Capitol News Service in the Wednesday morning newspaper.

That drew quick response from The Other Maine, where more sensitive souls abide. Sen. Karl Turner, R-Cumberland, countered that “senators from southern Maine take great offense to the suggestion by northern Maine senators that we would not want to be in committee tomorrow. We are fully prepared to execute our duties as required by Maine’s Constitution.”

“Oh, yeah? Speak for yourself, Big Guy,” Sen. Joe Brannigan, D-Portland, muttered. Or words to that effect, as he prepared to execute a return to Portland.

As I sit here thoroughly enjoying the blizzard raging outside my little window on the world, it occurs to me that the much-maligned television weather forecasters shilling for the perfect storm got it right this time. Pretty much nailed it, far as I can tell.

Shortly after daybreak, Neighborhood Snowplow Guy kindly cleaned out my dooryard, blowing the snow in huge plumes every which way with his huge tractor-mounted blower. Ten minutes later, State Highway Plow Guy, aided by the gale-force winds, kindly blew it all back. Moral of the story: When it comes to digging out after a good snowstorm, always put off until tomorrow what the nagging voice of the Puritan work ethic in you insists must be done immediately.

The dueling-plows scene brought to mind an animated cartoon titled “Government Snowplow” that has been circulating on the Internet and drawing hoots from the natives.

In the top frame of the cartoon, a conventional plow moves across a highway overpass, left to right, pushing snow over the side to the street below. Seconds later, a truck with a front-end blower attached emerges in the bottom frame, moving right to left, blowing the snow back up onto the overpass.

In Maine, in winter, some days are like that.

BDN columnist Kent Ward lives in Limestone. Readers may reach him via e-mail at olddawg@bangordailynews.net.