From left, Emma Schurink, staff writer Kay Neufeld and John Nichols present their creation, the “Le Mont” ski resort, that won the Chester Greenwood Day Gingerbread House Building Competition held Saturday, Dec. 4. Though the winners weren’t formally announced until Monday, Dec. 13, Neufeld decided to claim the win Sunday, Dec. 5, and corralled Schurink and Nichols into posing for a victorious photograph. Photo courtesy of Kay Neufeld

REGION — Picture this: 11:30 p.m., the night before Farmington’s Chester Greenwood Day; one Kay Neufeld (me) is hunched over a counter, frantically trying to transform green M&Ms and pretzel sticks into trees; her body is covered head to finger to toe in flavorless frosting.

At the time, I expected that would be the moment that stuck with me most during my first Chester Greenwood Day, held in Farmington Saturday, Dec. 4. But that would discount the rest of my adventure, from winding through the crowds of an ear-muff filled downtown Farmington and a conversation with Gov. Janet Mills to a swim in the coldest water I’ve ever had the displeasure of submerging in.

Leading up to the event, I had decided my number one activity for the day would be to compete in the Gingerbread House Building Competition, put on by the Franklin County Chamber of Commerce. It would be the first gingerbread house I had ever built.

At the time, I was envisioning a “Great British Bake Off” moment where I present and wax poetic about my vision for the creation.

Local artisans Emma Schurink and John Nichols, my partners in crime for the competition, quickly COVID-19 reality checked me that it was going to be a virtual competition.

When I expressed that I was “in it to win it” — which I repeated countless times over the course of the weekend — John also gave me another reality check. In previous years, he said, it has been an incredibly competitive competition where people spend days, even weeks on their creations. I couldn’t fathom people spending that much time on a house of cookies. But John confirmed that he’s dedicated that amount of time and more on his gingerbread creations.

I was dragged back down to Earth. Here, among the dreamless, I accepted my fate and decided to just have fun. I would not stress about winning (for the most part).

We decided a ski cabin would be our ticket in to the “Vacationland fun” theme.

The next night, the three of us met at Hannaford to buy our supplies. After a lengthy search, we bought enough ginger bread building materials to create (or feed) a whole ski village. We had a pre-made gingerbread house and a gingerbread village, Hershey’s bars, gum drops, Twizzlers, tinfoil wrapped chocolate snowmen, Nilla wafers, sprinkles, coconut flakes, sugar, sugar and sugar.

After spending $60, I realized I might have gone a bit overboard. My editor was certainly not enthused. But I knew it would be worth it. We reconvened a half an hour later at Emma’s house.

I, a newcomer to gingerbread house building, underestimated how hard it would be when it was time to get to work. We spent 40 minutes alone gluing the houses together. It was likely even longer because I had skipped the part where you read the instructions and accidentally mixed up all of the pieces.

After ample time sorting and re-sorting, I couldn’t even get the houses to stick together with the frosting. Emma and John, both woodworkers, swooped in and saved the day. Though they are my friends, I might have invited them to compete on my team with the selfish intention to get builders on my team.

I felt the constructing took an exceedingly long time. And then came the monstrous decorating. The remaining three hours were spent trying to make the sweets look like an actual village. We had a ski mountain and we envisioned a ski lift carrying the little chocolate snowmen. That turned into a rope tow. We envisioned trees made out of pretzel sticks and green frosting. Those ended up falling over and staining green on the pristine white frosting-snow. Much of the evening went like that. White frosting rushed down the mountain slope, past the village’s cardboard base, and coated the floor. The frosting bag kept getting jammed. The gingerbread house came in a package missing a chunk of the wall.

Around 10 p.m., Emma called it quits. She claimed it was because she had to work one of the Chester Greenwood Day crafts fair the next morning. But I anticipated it was because they knew we had hit a dead end and it wasn’t going to get any better.

Ever determined, I began working tirelessly. I was desperate to make the village a little less shabby looking. It wasn’t all that shabby, I suppose. But I was anticipating some fierce competition. I decorated the houses with more frosting until the bag broke and exploded all over me. I frantically tried several different ways to make trees — a ski slope needs trees!

I gave myself a cut off of 11:00 p.m., at which point I’d be hands in the air, “Bake Off” style. 11:00 p.m. came and went and at 11:30 p.m. I tore myself away, throwing my hands into the air and whispering “okay baker, your time is up.”

“It is what it is,” I thought. “At least it’s over and done with.”

I cleaned up the kitchen as quietly as I could and dragged myself home. I returned the next morning bright and early to add the finishing touches and take pictures to post. The competition, this year, would be hosted via Facebook where the person with the most amount of likes wins.

The FCCOC stated that the deadline was 10 a.m. At 9:40 a.m., I decided to add the trees I had made and stuck in the fridge the night before. At 9:50 a.m., I decided to try and bring the house outside to take some pictures with an aesthetically-pleasing background. At 9:55 a.m., I decided the submission needed a lavish description to go with it. Thirty seconds to go, I submitted our creation with trembling fingers.

Our final submission was a “small chunk” of a ski resort based on the ski mountains of Franklin County. Snowpeople scattered the property, some on skis made out of pieces of Hershey’s chocolate bars with candy-cane poles. The roads were paved with Nilla wafers. The snow was covered in coconut flakes. The last-minute trees, M&Ms coated in green frosting and stuck to pretzel sticks, really did tie it all together. It was a masterpiece.

Staff writer Kay Neufeld, Emma Schurink and John Nichols winning creation for the Franklin County Chamber of Commerce’s Gingerbread House Building Competition. The competition was a part of the celebrations for Chester Greenwood Day, held Saturday, Dec. 4, in Farmington. Kay Neufeld/Franklin Journal

The caption reads:

Welcome to Le Montagne, Maine’s premier ski resort — inspired by the many slopes of Franklin County. The snowpeople of Maine travel far and wide for Le Mont’s pristine white peaks and picturesque views.

Pictured is the bunny hill and some of the premier chalets, chateaus and bungalows — just one sugary chunk of Le Mont’s vast property. Snowpeople interested in visiting or learning more about Le Mont can reach out to the Franklin County Chamber of Commerce.

With the gingerbread building over and done with, I headed to downtown Farmington to dive into a sea of earmuffs, locals and floats. When I rounded the corner near Main Street, I realized I had completely forgotten to get a pair of earmuffs. I couldn’t decide on which kooky design to get the earmuffs in, so I didn’t order a pair at all.

But I got lucky: nearly every shop that lined the block had piles of their own stock.

I went with a pair that looped around the back of your head, rather than a pair with a headband that gives you a headache. It was the most creative take I’d seen on a pair of earmuffs. And the first time I had worn them since I was 10 years old.

The parade itself was fun. The floats were decked out. The onlookers were excited. At one point I ran to the center of the parade to ask the paraders themselves how they were doing. It was pretty thrilling to walk in the center of it — ‘feh,’ to the consequences!

After a flag raising ceremony, I got to speak with Gov. Janet Mills, a Farmington native who was in attendance (and donning a pair of cheetah print earmuffs).

As a cub reporter, this was probably the most high-profile person I’ve interviewed in my career to date. I gassed myself up before introducing myself and squealed excitedly when I walked away. I had to resist the urge to grill her on some more serious questions for other stories I’m working on. My gut told me not to risk getting on her bad side since it was only the first time meeting her. I told myself there’d eventually be another opportunity to ask in what I’m sure will be my prolific career.

Following the parade, I headed home for a break and to write up a feature for the Sun Journal. While I was supposed to be writing, I began campaigning for the contest.

Truthfully, Dear Reader, I asked every family member, friend, distant acquaintance and barista I knew to go and vote for our ski village. It felt like cheating, but I was “in it to win it,” remember?

Kay Neufeld, far right, contemplates the reality of plunging in 40 degree Fahrenheit water at the “Polar Bear Dip” at Clearwater Lake Saturday, Dec. 4. The dip was a part of the celebrations for Chester Greenwood Day, held every year on the first Saturday of December in Farmington. Pam Harnden/Livermore Falls Advertiser

I figured this would be the end of my day, gingerbread politics and writing. And then, 20 minutes before 3 p.m., I spontaneously threw on my swimsuit and headed to Clearwater Lake in Industry for the “Polar Bear Dip.”

On the ride there, I tried to convince myself I’d be okay because I’ve gone swimming in the coastal waters of Maine during off season. I’m warm blooded, I repeated over and over again.

I walked up to the lake with trepidation and excitement for the thrill. I briefly chatted with a whole crew of men who had been doing the icy dip for around 35 years (there was no consensus) since it first started in the mid-1980s.

Their excitement rubbed off on me. “Alright, let’s get going,” one member of the group yelled. No announcer or horn, I suppose. They marched right into the lake and laughed gleefully.

I, on the other hand, stood at the lake’s edge until nearly everyone had gone in. I was busy contemplating my life choices and decision making skills. Finally, I went for it. It wasn’t so bad at first. In fact, I could have stayed in at least a couple minutes. But then I dunked my head — because I am going to commit if I set out to do something. Pins and needles rushed up my arms. My survival instincts kicked in and I rushed out of the water.

On the shore, I ripped the warm change of clothes out of my bag, but I was shaking so hard I couldn’t get my socks on my feet, my feet in my boots.

Staff writer Pam Harnden came up to me to ask me some questions. Looking back on it, I don’t remember anything I said. All I remember is the cold.

Once fully dressed, someone informed me it was 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside and 40 degrees Fahrenheit in the water. Though I rushed out, I was proud of myself for dunking; for going in, at all.

A squirrel munches away on the remnants of “Le Mont,” a gingerbread village built by Emma Schurink, Kay Neufeld and John Nichols for the Chester Greenwood Day Gingerbread House Building Competition. Photo courtesy of Emma Schurink

I drove home in my car with a heating system that had broken a few weeks prior and contemplated my life choices once again. Following a scalding hot shower at home, I opened Facebook and realized I was in a strong lead for the gingerbread contest with 29 likes.

Though the winners would not be named until Monday, Dec. 13, I declared my team the winner on Sunday, Dec. 5. I’m going to level with you, Dear Reader: there was only one other adult entry and our group creation was by far and large the superior (sorry, fellow competitor).

I did contemplate whether or not I’d have won if there was some stiff competition. But I don’t care enough to ruminate on it — I’m a winner, baby! It was nice to get $25 chamber bucks. But really, I was in it for the bragging rights. And it was well worth it. That pride and glory will last me a lifetime.

Today, “Le Mont” sits in Emma’s backyard, where a squirrel has been periodically munching away on it. I just hope he doesn’t get sick. The unethical campaigning, I’m willing to do. But even in the name of victory, killing a squirrel might cross a line.