Living on a ridge above Great Cove on the Down East coast of Maine can make you eager to get up early. It’s a time to see life begun anew with the morning’s always unique offerings, which will change as the day opens wider.
My wife Barbara and I have gotten to the point where we can use shorthand descriptions to describe the morning’s complex changes. On the recent foggy morning shown here, for example, you would have heard, “Martha’s there now.”
Decrypted, this means that the retreating fog has passed the lonely mooring of the small cruiser once owned by famed author E.B. White and named after his granddaughter, Martha. It also would imply that Babson Island likely soon would be fog-free.
On a clear morning here, the sun has to rise above a ridge of trees before its early light can reach the Cove. When it does, it often acts as a spotlight to feature exquisite sights, which we consider to be visual gifts for us. Thus, during yesterday’s clear dawning, you would have heard me shout to Barbara, “Angelique!”
Decrypted, that meant that this familiar 130-foor windjammer had come in the previous evening (without us seeing her), that she was anchored where we could see her, and that the sight was worth stopping what you were doing to see. It also is an invitation to join in the strange Peeping Tom pleasure of watching a vessel full of sleeping tourists who soon will be doing their own peeping. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on September 6 [fog] and 7 [sun].)