The weather seems more personal in a small Maine coastal town. You live with it like a companion. When it’s foul, it’s a betrayal; when it’s beautiful, it’s a loving touch. When it’s both, it’s a forgive-me gift. Yesterday was a forgive-me gift. It mostly was the small misery of combined fog and rain:
Then, at about 4 p.m., the horizon brightened. The low sun suddenly appeared over Great Cove, took a brief bow, and left, trailing behind an immense orange train through the arriving darkness.
Then, a crescent moon in a cloudy sky. (Brooklin, Maine)