As I write this, I’m gazing through a hazy curtain of sea smoke at the village of St. Stephen, Canada, barely more than a stone’s throw across the frozen St. Croix River from our warm cozy apartment in Calais, Maine.

When I pushed the start button on the coffee maker this morning the outdoor temp read -12 F. That’s a few degrees warmer than last night’s -20 F. Tomorrow the weatherman is telling anyone who will listen that it’s going to get even colder.

Welcome to Down East Maine, currently in the grip what’s shaping up to be yet another epic “ice storm.” Our trademark rugged Down East landscape has been flash frozen into a fairyland of glistening crystalline shapes at once familiar and strangely exotic. Roadside birch and fir trees are twisted into improbable shapes, their limbs draping haphazardly across power lines like the arms of so many drunken sailors threatening to cut life-sustaining power to dozens of isolated rural communities.

We were lucky this time. Power to our apartment was only down for a few hours. Some of our friends, stranded without electricity for several days now, have been struggling to “get by” with woodstoves, portable generators, candles, flashlights and the legendary generosity of hardscrabble Washington County neighbors. Those same people have seen more than their share of hard times including, of course, the “Big Ice Storm” of 1998.

Back then, I was just starting my second year at CBS News Sunday Morning. Like many Mainers, I didn’t have the foggiest idea what sort of devastation this new phenomenon called an “ice storm” was capable of dishing out. We all found out soon enough.

Airports, major highways and public and private institutions closed within hours. State and local services were quickly overwhelmed and utility crews began arriving from as far away as Michigan to help out. By the time it was over some 700,000 of Maine’s 1.2 million residents had lost power, some for a few hours, many for a few days and some for several weeks.

I called my producer in New York and discovered that she, along with my camera crew, host Charles Osgood, and nearly everybody else at CBS Sunday Morning was out of the country preparing to broadcast next Sunday’s show live from Cuba!

After convincing the show’s executive director that this was genuine breaking national news, she authorized hiring a crew from CBS affiliate WGME in Portland and we hit the slippery back roads to get the story.

Necessity really is the mother of invention, an axiom that was proven many times in the coming days. Mainers matched unique challenges with clever, often highly unconventional solutions like the following.

When setting up the emergency shelter in a high school gym in Norway, Maine, the Red Cross volunteers had thought of just about everything. There were cots for sleeping, hot meals, first aid, hourly news and weather updates, bathroom facilities and even live entertainment from local performers.

But they overlooked one important detail: state health regulations strictly forbade pets from entering the facility. What would happen to all those displaced dogs and cats separated from his or her human family, without access to food, water, warmth or shelter from the storm?

An unconventional solution arrived via The Little Jungle Pet Store on Main Street. Having lost power only briefly, the shop’s animal-loving owners solved the problem by transforming the modest storefront into an impromptu Noah’s Ark, sheltering an exotic assortment of furry, finny, scaly and feathered refugees.

Amidst the floor-to-ceiling stacks of pet carriers and cages housing dogs, cats, hamsters and parakeets, I notice a large aquarium filled with tropical fish. The handmade sign taped on the glass read: Just Visiting!

Perhaps the most memorable non-traditional solution to a potentially hazardous ice storm problem featured two women heading home from work in the early hours of the storm. The first woman was a Mainer working in New Hampshire. The second woman was a Granite Stater working in Maine.

Having chosen the same back road shortcut, hoping to make it home before driving became impossible, their hopes collapsed when they found themselves headlight to headlight in a roadway hopelessly blocked by a fallen tree.

We all know what two men in that predicament would have done. Here’s a hint: It would have involved chainsaws, testosterone and plenty of heavy lifting.

These women however, chose an entirely different path. In what I consider a stroke of pure genius, they simply exchanged addresses, phone numbers, the keys to their respective vehicles and a promise to get in touch after the storm.

Then, after swapping cars, they simply turned around and each drove safely home!