In the Right Place: Purity Reconsidered

Yesterday was a brilliantly-lit, blue skyed day with fresh snow that seemed to be too pure to tread on, as you see here.

These scenes brought to mind the outdated saying that someone was “as pure as the driven snow.” I thought that the simile was mistaken – that it should be “as pure as the UNdriven snow,” because we all know what happens to snow after vehicles have had their way with the precipitation. But, then I looked up the origin of the saying.

The saying has been used at least since the late 16th Century. It’s actually a comparison to snow that has been carried by the winds and driven into untouched, white drifts. Being “as pure as the driven snow” meant that you were chaste and otherwise unsullied. It often was used to describe young females who were (or who were thought to be) “untainted” by sexual relations. As I said, it’s outdated. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 17, 2024.)

In the Right Place: A Gentle Reminder

We had a gentle reminder yesterday that it’s still winter. A fine-flaked snowstorm began yesterday morning and slogged on at a slow pace into the night. We got about two to three inches of new carpeting eventually.

The local lanes took a long time to get white coverings and the bright colors at various places stood out.

At Naskeag Harbor, the visibility through the fine snow was low and the temperature was just at freezing. Yet, it wasn’t too cool to keep our courageous neighbor, Sarah Havener Brown, from taking her daily therapeutic dip in the Harbor waters while her loyal dog, Esme, stood watch.

This morning’s first light, seen below, revealed cold (18° F, wind chill 07°), but peaceful, views. The morning also brought our faithful snow-plower, Jerry Gray.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 16 and 17, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Solidifying and Thawing

Here you see one of our bog areas filled with water and melting ice yesterday. The two storm systems that moved up the Eastern Seaboard within the past few days brought the Northeastern coast heavy rain while smothering some of the inland areas with heavy snow.

It has become confusing to our vegetation as the temperatures fluctuate between above-freezing and below-freezing. The solidifying and thawing that we’re experiencing is not good for root systems or for old woods-walkers (such as Yours Truly) who sometimes don’t see clear ice.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 15, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Sucking Up

Here you see Naskeag Harbor on the day before the recent rains and high winds came. That day had darkened and become very still, creating the kind of indirest northern light and reflective waters that often are associated with Maine winters.

Thinking of this still, almost eerie  day now made me wonder about the origins of the popular saying about “the calm before the storm.” That saying often is used figuratively to describe a time of peaceful harmony before harmful chaos.

It’s first known metaphorical use reportedly was during the 1600s in the English play “The Dumb Knight”: “[B]ut hush, no words; there is calm before the tempest.” By the 20th Century, the word “storm” was used more often in the metaphor than its older form “tempest” and the word “lull” was sometimes used instead of “calm.”

But the saying, which reportedly originated with sailors, actually has a basis in science. Before many (but not all) storms, especially those at sea, there can be a calming effect on an area. I’m not sure that I fully understand how this happens, but the process apparently involves the physics of warmer, moist air being sucked upward to cool and condense before being transformed into precipitation.  (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 9, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Brief Respite

The latest revenge attack by our environment yesterday was brutal and the images of the damage here and elsewhere often are shocking. Perhaps that’s what we need to wake up to what we’re doing. But now, I think that I need a brief respite. Here’s a hint of the possible other side of the story, a soothing mood of the elements that took place Thursday evening:

As the sun set, there was a showing of royal colors over Great Cove and Eggemoggin Reach. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 11, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Unhidden Treasures

Here you see one of Brooklin’s treasures earlier this week, still sporting a holiday wreath. It’s the Friend Memorial Public Library, which has expanded and been modernized several times since its founding in 1912. In fact, it recently began a two-year campaign to raise funds to again revitalize and expand the building and grounds, and to assist with long-term operating expenses.

Moreover, the Library recently formalized an agreement with Jon Wilson to acquire his extensive and extraordinary maritime research library. He is the founder and prior owner of two of Brooklin’s other treasures, the famed WoodenBoat School and WoodenBoat Publications.

It’s expected that Jon’s 6,700 books and additional rare documents will be part of a Maritime Research Center available to FMPL users once the Library’s overall expansion is completed sometime in 2026. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Starting Anew

This image of a sea smoke dawn in Naskeag Harbor appears in my monthly column in the current Ellsworth American. 

To read the column about sea smoke and another remarkable thing that happens here in January, click here: https://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Warmer, Wetter, and Windier

Climate change has been brutally obvious. Yesterday’s temperature here reached the 50s (F); the day’s wind gusts sometimes exceeded 70 miles per hour, and its torrential rain flooded some low areas. The results were many power outages and high, violent tides.

These forces eroded our coast, ripped rockweed from its granite anchors, and brought that seaweed, dock parts, and other coastal detritus ashore, as you see here in these images of the Town Dock in Naskeag Harbor.

That dock seemed to hold up well; the Brooklin Boat Yard dock in Center Harbor did not fare as well. We’re told that a similar storm should arrive this weekend. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 10, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Stick Poking

Vigorous outdoor family enjoyment is alive and well in some places, even on a cold and gray winter’s day, such as yesterday. Pond ice here was thick enough to skate on and even to play ice hockey yesterday, but today’s relatively warm weather and rain may change that.

This pleasing sight made me wonder: Where did this strange game originate and how did the sport (ice “hockey”) and its projectiles (“pucks”) get their unusual names? A little online research provided some possible answers.

The hazy origins of ice hockey apparently began with stick-and-ball games similar to field hockey played on unfrozen ground in the Middle Ages and perhaps even ancient Greece. Variations played in the winter on ice began to appear in Britain in the 17th and 18th Centuries and in Ireland, where a milder form of manipulating an object on ice – hurling – apparently originated.

In the middle of the 19th Century, British soldiers stationed in Canada played the game on ice there and fascinated locals; it was there that it apparently was influenced to become rougher by the Native American sport of lacrosse. It caught on big-time in Canada, where ice hockey and its equipment apparently were developed into what became the game we have today.

The name “hockey” is thought by many to be derived from the French word for a shepherd’s stick, “hoquet.” Shepherds’ sticks often had curved ends to hook sheep or defend against predators. The word “puck” is thought to derive from the Scottish Gaelic “puc” or the Irish “poc,” meaning (among other possibilities) to “poke.” (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 9, 2024.)

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.)