In the Right Place: Northern Winter Wonderland

It’s time for the obligatory New Year’s image of this vista across Blue Hill Bay to the western mountains of Mount Desert Island, taken from Amen Ridge in Brooklin. This is one of the iconic views that I monitor for subtle changes over the years.

MDI is Maine’s largest island and one of the most popular tourist sites in the world. It contains most of Acadia National Park, as well as many popular sites, including Bar Harbor. The Island is accessible via a bridge and by water, and the Hancock County-Bar Harbor Airport is located a few miles away on the near mainland shore. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Benign

Yesterday’s much-ballyhooed storm came through during the much-maligned Patriots game. Of the two, the storm was the more interesting, albeit benign. We got about 3.5 slowly-accumulated inches here on the coast and never lost power. A few images of Sunday’s snowfall:

Today, we awoke to sunny ground flows of snow that were unscarred by human boots, skis, or tires — until the snowplow came to clear the driveway. Here are a few images from today:

They say another storm is on the way. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 7 and 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: The Buck Stops Here

The white-tailed deer hunting season here ended last month and I saw only one buck then – briefly, within heavy woods, and I didn’t get a good shot of him (with a camera). So, of course, I’m now seeing bucks all over the place, including open areas.

This young buck ambled slowly through our south field Friday, saw me, and didn’t change his slow pace. I would guess that he’s about one and a half years old, judging from his small antlers and other signs (disproportionately-long legs, relatively tight stomach, hardly any leg gland stains, etc.).

As you probably know, those are temporary bones grown on his head, not permanent horns like those on cattle and goats. He’ll be shedding that antler rack sometime between now and early spring.

It looks like he has six “points” (three on each side) of his rack. A projection out of the “beams” (the two major arm-like bones) of the rack usually is eligible to be counted as a point if it extends at least an inch out of the beam with that length exceeding the projection’s width by one or more inches. A beam tip is counted as a point, but not measured as one. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 5, 2024.)

In the Right Place: A Thursday Vision

The sky was angry Thursday night as the setting sun slid below streaming stratocumulus clouds.

When the sun sank below our horizon, its wake soaked the sky in orange-red light, which disappeared into the following darkness within minutes:  

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 4, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Survival of the Latest

Some winterberry shrubs here still contain red galaxies of fruit within the gray outer space of our roadsides, as you see from these images taken yesterday. These plants are unlike other fruiting trees and shrubs that ripen when it’s warm and get eaten then. Scientists think that it’s all part of a survival plan.

Winterberry shrubs (Ilex verticillata), as do other American hollies, produce fruits that ripen late, are not as nutritious as many other fruits, and contain bad-tasting compounds that don’t dissipate until the winter months. These plants compete with many plants that apparently are designed to produce fruit for migrating birds; those feathered summer residents may or may not disperse those earlier fruit seeds in the area where they originated.

The theory is that, by delaying fruit ripening until many birds are gone and the remaining resident birds are less particular about what they eat, winterberry is avoiding competition and maximizing its chances to have its seeds dispersed nearby. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 4, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Iced Tease

We’ve had five consecutive days of below-freezing mornings, which means ice has been forming in our ponds and sea ice has started to pancake on our coastal shores, as you see from these images.

The ponds that I’ve seen are is not nearly ready for skating. I suggest that you don’t test them with your body weight even near their edges.

The sea ice, of course, is nowhere near solidifying; its salinity requires higher freezing temperatures for longer periods.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 2 and 3, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Boatsheds and Barn Doors

I checked yesterday on the small boats encased in this storage area, the WoodenBoat School’s post and panel boatshed, which actually is a maritime jewel box.

The unpretentious shed now is totally closed-in except for a small back entrance. The boats inside look like they’re surviving the cold well.

The beetle cat boat “Whimsey,” shown in the foreground of the above image, had to be given extra space due to her “barn door” rudder. Barn door rudders usually are proportionately longer and not as deep as other rudders.

Among other things, barn door rudders allow small boats to sail in shallow waters and compensate for “weather helm,” the tendency of a sailboat to head into the wind if the tiller is held too loosely or released. But they can require a strong arm. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Delights and Warnings

Here you see yesterday’s overcast sky on the first day of the new year:

However, at dusk the low setting sun and our winter-tilted hemisphere created a thin opportunity for sun beams to pierce between the cloud layer and the horizon – and create a minute or two of red sky:

This, of course, evoked the old rhyme, “Red sky at night, sailors’ delight; Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.” Similar observations about good red night skies and bad red morning skies appear in the Bible and in Shakespeare. Are they true? Often they are, according to the experts.

A red sky at night from a setting sun means that the sun is sending its low light through a concentration of dust particles. This usually indicates high pressure and stable air coming in on the prevailing winds from the west. Basically good weather should follow.

A red sky in the morning from a sunrise can mean that a high-pressure system (good weather) has passed, thus indicating that a storm system (low pressure) may be moving to the east. It also can mean that there is high water content in the atmosphere. Both situations often mean rain is coming.

As for last night’s red sky, there is no dispute: This morning is sunny and clear – a sailor’s delight. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 1, 2024.)

December Postcards From Down East Maine

December was the best and worst of months this year. It had unseasonably warm weather at times when the bluest of skies blended into the waters of Blue Hill Bay; inveterate rowers raced across mirrored coves, and “cold-water-dippers” towed their mobile saunas to harbors, where they took a dip in 39° (F) water, then overheated in their steamy contraptions, then cooled down in outside temperatures in the 40s:

But there also were more gray days than bright ones. Some were intriguing frigid days when a cloud-veiled sun created a glitter path on forming sea ice in coves and bays. There also were warm thaws with spring-like rain, heavy fogs, and record-breaking storms that flooded basements, destroyed electrical power for days, and caused abnormally high tides.

And, of course, there was a significant snowstorm, which turned out to be the most beautiful snow that we had all year. It coated the trees, including the Town of Brooklin’s lobster trap tree in front of the Town Hall that was conceived and built by residents this year.

After the storm, we had a lovely period of sunshine and cold that preserved the pristine white land blanket for a few days until the next thaw:

The wildlife appeared to have no problems in December. The resident white-tailed deer were well-protected by their insulated winter coats; Canada geese were still migrating south out of Maine during the month, while cold- and water-resistant bufflehead ducks were arriving from Canada and frolicking in our waters:

Apparently due to the unseasonable warm spells, many winterberry bushes were lush with red fruit all month and even some mushrooms appeared:

On the working waterfront, many of our lobster fishing vessels were fitted with masts and booms to “drag” for Atlantic scallops with dredges; other vessels were equipped with cold weather huts and used as platforms for divers to “hand-fish” for green sea urchins. As for recreational vessels, most of them were hibernating in their winter shelters.

Of course, December is the holiday season for Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa. Around here, choral music is popular during the month, especially performances of the Bagaduce Chorale:

Wreathes and holiday lights decorate the Brooklin General Store and many other structures during December and poinsettias and other tropical flowers are sold locally as popular decorations for the season. As mentioned, this year residents created a beautiful lobster trap holiday tree that I used to illustrate a holiday card.

Finally, December is the month when we begin to get our most spectacular winter sunsets and afterglows, which this year included a crescent waxing moon:

(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during December of 2023.)

In the Right Place: Dry and Wet

Here you see four of our “day scalloping” fishing vessels at rest this last morning of 2023. They’re in cloudy Naskeag Harbor, where they are protected by Harbor Island, which has a summer residence on it. From left to right, the fishing vessels are “Captain Morgain,” “Christopher-Devin III,” “Dear Abby:” and “Tarrfish.”

Here’s a close-up of “Dear Abbie:” that shows her mast and boom, which maneuver her “drag” (dredge) that scoops scallops from the bottom:

These boats catch and bring ashore (they “land”) their scallops in one day and are the primary source of scallops caught in our area. Their scallops are the freshest. They’re called “dry scallops” because, due to the fishermen’s short trips, there is no need to pack the catches in ice to protect against toxins. Ice melts and can change the scallops’ taste slightly. There also are “trip-boat” scallopers who often are at sea for a week or more. They need to pack their catches in ice and, therefore, they sell “wet scallops.”

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 31, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Christmas Blues

As I sit here during another morning of rain and fog, I can’t help thinking back five days and longing for the blue skies of our spectacular Christmas Day to reappear over our little peninsular.

Above, we’re looking east-northeast over Blue Hill Bay on Christmas toward Mount Desert Island, Maine’s largest Island and the home of most of Acadia National Park. Below, a little earlier that day, we’re looking northwest through Great Cove to Eggemoggin Reach, some of the best sailing waters in the world:

In the winter, our northern hemisphere is tilted away from the sun, which means that our star’s rays are slanted and less concentrated if and when they find Maine’s rocky shores. That means the winter sun is not as dominant and warming as in other seasons. But it also means that our atmosphere is supposed to be colder, cleaner, and drier, which is supposed to mean more vibrant blue skies. At least that’s what I’ve read.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 25, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Winter Magic

This image of sea ice forming in cloudy Patten Bay was taken two days before Christmas Day near the end of a cold spell here, when the 7:30 a.m. temperature was 19 ° (F) on the day it was taken.

The ice never fully formed because we’ve been in a warm and wet spell since Christmas. (It’s 36° and raining again now, as I write at 6:45 a.m.) However, special winter days such as the one shown here, when the cloud-veiled sun is trying to find us, provide lasting memories of extraordinary lighting effects that will get me through until the New Year.

Many of the best outdoor artists whose works I have seen (especially J.M.W. Turner and Andrew Wyeth) seem to have tried valiantly to capture in watercolors (and some oils) the monochromatic magic of a cold, cloudy, sun-probed sky. However, in my limited experience, I’ve never seen a work that has captured the sometimes-soul-touching cloudy-day scenes that my eyes have seen.

(Image taken in Surry, Maine, on December 23, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Glad Tidings

The weather has been creepy since Christmas day.  We had a rainstorm during yesterday’s very early hours; the morning tide crested at 11.27 feet, which is above average; the temperature got into the 40s (F), which used to be warm for late December, and the fog was heavy all day. As I write this, light rain is easing its way through fog. It’s been a wet Christmas week so far.

Yesterday, I didn’t get down to Naskeag Harbor to catch the foggy scene until about an hour after high tide. Judging from the littered shore and ramp, the storm had decided to cut and deliver us some Christmas greens via the high tidal express.

There were no spruce or balsam fir boughs among these greens, nor was there the holiday scent of conifers. Yet, there was the briny scent of freshly ripped rockweed, the predominant seaweed there. That aroma was mixed with the faintly-salty scent of the Harbor on a foggy morning. That was good enough. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 27.)

In the Right Place: Fishy

Here you see one of the last images of our beautiful Christmas Day this year. As the sun disappeared over Deer Isle, its afterglow became an undulating flow of rose and lemon light:

And, as those warm colors waned, a mackerel sky signal started to form:

As you may know, a mackerel sky is formed by rippling altocumulus or cirrocumulus clouds that sometimes resemble the scales on the side of a fish. They indicate high winds and, often, a significant weather change. The old saying is this: “Mackerel sky, mackerel sky: never long wet, never long dry.”

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 25, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Hot and Cold Christmas

Christmas Day yesterday was a beauty: warm (49° F high), clear, and still. It inspired two Maine activities that are not considered winter pastimes elsewhere. Here you see a Brooklinite sitting on the porch of a mobile sauna in a visit to Naskeag Harbor yesterday:

She and her partner had engaged in some “cold-water-dipping” in the Harbor’s 39° F waters, popped into the woodstove-heated sauna, and she was cooling down to normal when the image was taken. This is a trailer sauna; mobile saunas also can be bought or rented in panel truck form and heated by wood or propane.

In Great Cove on Christmas day morning, my neighbor was enjoying the weather by rowing his SIC board over still water:

Note that the oars are part of a reverse-geared “RowOnAir” system, which facilitates rowing and enables the rower to see where he’s going, among other things.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 25, 2023.)

From the Right Place

In the Right Place: Good Cheer

Here’s an endangered species, a general store. In fact, it’s the Brooklin General Store on the third night before Christmas.

When approaching this place over lonely, dark State Route 175 on a cold winter’s night, the store’s lighted windows and the people seen inside sometimes seem to be a rural variation of an Edward Hopper night scene. But, there are no Hopper hints of heartbreak wrapped into that warm welcome. The store is a place for good cheer. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 22, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Retrospective

As the month winds down, it might be interesting to do a little visual retrospective of December at her sunniest and snowiest so far. Picturesque Beth Eden Chapel is a good subject for that. Here she is with dry feet on December 19.

Below, you’ll see her with snowy feet on December 5, after the month’s best snowstorm.

This Chapel is a historic church that was built in 1900 as a “Late Victorian” wooden structure. Although it was built by a Methodist congregation as the first church in the old Naskeag Village area, it has been nondenominational all of its years.

I’m aware of several churches named “Beth Eden,” but haven’t been able to find out why the name was chosen by them. Perhaps one of you knows. It appears to be the biblical name for Bit Adini, an Aramean kingdom that was captured by the Assyrians. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 5 (snow) and 19, 2023.)

In the Right Place: No Longer So Common

Here you see a raft of about 70 common eiders, our largest native duck, yesterday afternoon out in Blue Hill Bay at low tide.

The eiders were in the area of the reversing falls and they were probably waiting for the workers on the new bridge over the falls to leave. Then, they would swim up the falls’ channel and dive for crabs, starfish, and shellfish. In the past, they also would gorge themselves on Atlantic blue mussels, which disappeared there and elsewhere around here.

The eiders yesterday were mostly bronze females with a few black and white males. (See also the Leighton Archive image below.) Rafts of them have been wintering in this area for many decades, perhaps centuries. Nine years ago, I counted about 400 eiders (Somateria mollissima) rafting in that area.

Leighton Archive Image

Although not classified as endangered, eider numbers have been declining each year for at least a decade throughout their entire Atlantic coast range. The causes of the decline are not fully known, but research indicates that warming waters may be part of the problem. Perhaps it also is the decline of Atlantic blue mussels, the birds’ favorite food, which have been declining, apparently due in part to the warmer waters (and the voraciousness of the eiders).

Another apparent cause of eider decline is that more bald eagles are staying north in the warming winters; eagles are significant eider predators, especially eider ducklings. And, of course, big and beautiful eiders are favorite targets during duck-hunting season. (Primary image taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on December 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Round and Prickly

Here you see a diving boat in Naskeag Harbor yesterday, complete with international diving boat flag and wet-suited diver.

The boat reportedly is used for “handfishing” green sea urchins, which are a valuable marine resource in Maine’s fishery. Most urchin divers use scuba equipment and collect the urchins into a mesh bag that is hauled up by a crew member:

Green sea urchins are spiked and have one of the longest scientific names in the animal kingdom: Strongylocentrotus droebachiensis, which primarily means round and prickly. The animal itself is an echinoderm, a group of radially symmetrical, invertebrate animals that includes starfish, sand dollars and sea cucumbers.

Sea urchin “uni” is considered to be a delicacy for sushi in Japan, apparently the principal market for Maine urchins, and has become increasingly sought-after in Europe. The high-priced uni sometimes is called urchin “roe,” but it is not eggs; it’s the yellow-orange reproductive gonads of the urchins.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 20, 2023.)