JOURNAL
The February has been cold, but generous with her sunlight and moonlight so far. Her full Snow Moon is waning, but still ample while getting more and more gibbous (“hunched”) as it loses sunlight. Here you see the moon rising over Blue Hill Bay on Tuesday evening:
Below,, you’ll see it going down over Great Cove as the sun is rising on Wednesday morning:
(Images taken in Blue Hill and Brooklin, Maine, on February 3 and 4, respectively.)
This mysterious frozen sculpture appears bright in the sunlight on the Nub and glowing in the candlelight at night:
It gets you thinking.
Is it a reminder that Valentine’s Day is near? A memorial to someone who was loved? An inspiration from the statement that “God is Love,” as was Robert Indiana’s famous “LOVE” sculpture? Or just one of those exuberant and unexplainable artistic expressions?
This sculpture will never be famous, but it’s a good (and possibly needed) reminder for those of us who drive by of that incredible and mysterious thing called love. Thanks to its anonymous artist(s) and keepers. Click on the images to enlarge them. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on February 2 and 3, 2026).
Here’s February’s full moon rising over the Naskeag peninsular Sunday, a big start for a short month. This full moon traditionally is called the Snow Moon, based on the Farmer’s Almanac records of mostly Native American terminology.
Native Americans, especially their children, loved to play in the snow, according to the literature. In fact, the toboggan sled reportedly originated from the Algonquin people; it originally was designed for hauling, but children used it for thrilling slides down snowy hills. The Lakota and Dakota children reportedly used sleds made from buffalo rib bones, leather, and wood for their winter thrills.
With that history of wonderful times in mind, I thought I’d see what the Snow Moon would look like with one of today’s native (small “n”) Americans having similar fun on it:
(Real moon images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 1, 2026; merged image based on Leighton Archives material.)
The first day of February decided to make a dramatic exit in flames yesterday. Here you see the beginning of the afterglow just as the sun descended below the horizon at Naskeag Point:
About five minutes later, the sky above Great Cove was still on fire:
The apparent irony is that cold winter air has less moisture and grit, so it produces hot colors. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 1, 2026.)
January brought us an old-fashed Maine winter here on the coast. There were many serously cold days and a few good snow storms, including a significant nor’easter that left a snow blanket of well over a foot in most areas and about two feet or more in some. Let’s take a look.
We’ll start with the four iconic vistas that we monitor every month for these Postcards. They would be the western mountains on Mount Desert Island, as viewed from Amen Ridge in Brooklin; the “harbor house” on Harbor Island in Brooklin’s Naskeag Harbor; the south face of that near mountain called Blue Hill in the town named after it, and the old boathouse in Conary Cove, also in Blue Hill:
The effect of snow falling in our woods was magical:
The quiet sanctity of a cemetery became serenity; ancient equipment and playthings became art and Christmas wreaths turned into frozen fir rings:
The snow added character to many familiar structures — governmental, religious, commercial, educational, utilitarian, residential and even those that were rundown and abandoned:
Public roads were always plowed immediately and “salted” with a melting mix; unpaved private lanes and driveways that led to occupied residences also were cleared quickly; those that led to summer residences usually were the last to be plowed (in case of fire or other emergency):
On the fauna front, our white-tailed deer were protected by their plush winter coats that insulated heat so well snow didn’t melt on their backs; Harry, our resident porcupine, went into the snow-plowing business; wild turkeys had trouble crossing plowed roads; sea ice prevented gulls from swimming, and mallards visited freshwater streams to feed:
On the flora front, winterberry lived up to its name outside, as did our tropical amaryllis (from the Greek “to sparkle”) inside:
The working waterfront at Naskeag Harbor was quiet this January because the State closed that scallop-fishing zone temporarily for conservation:
The working waterfront at Center Harbor was a busier story due to the presence there of the renowned Brooklin Boat Yard and its many gifted boat designers and builders:
Moving from the seaside to the sky above, January’s clear, cold and coastal air provided breathtaking sunsets and afterglows, with everchanging colors that slid and swayed:
Finally, we leave you with the January full moon, which traditionally is called the Wolf Moon. This year it was a supermoon that arose over Mount Desert Island as a distorted, molten orb when viewed though our gritty atmosphere. When it escaped into the stratosphere and silverized, it was time for a certain photograoher’s imagination to take over. Later, it began to reflect less light and become distorted into a gibbous oval.
Having a wonderful time, wish you were here!
(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during January 2026, except the image of a canine-faced moon, which was a merger of a Leighton Archive phorograph with my image of this January’s full “Wolf Moon.”)
Before this extended cold spell, our sea gulls regularly roosted on high metal surfaces:
Now, they shun those surfaces and seek out low bare spots in sun-absorbent surfaces and just hunker down for long periods:
Another reminder of the value of a warm home. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on January 13 and 30, 2026.)
Having a tiny cabin in the woods as a workshop, studio or home was the joy of many who are no longer with us. Some of those structures, such as this early 20th Century wood-carving workshop, are well-cared-for by subsequent owners:
Others appear to have been abandoned and in need of loving care:
But both appear to be rejuvenated on sunny days after a good snowfall. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 29, 2026.)
The recent snow buildup and high roadside plow mounds have made things a bit difficult for our wild turkeys. The snow is too deep in many places for them to scratch through it and sometimes they have to use their breasts as a plow to roam from here to there.
They seem to be conserving energy by doing less foraging and more roosting in dense conifer stands, while self-heating by fluffing themselves up to trap insulating air around their bodies. They’re tough.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 28, 2026.)
Maine now is experiencing federal ICE, made of misguided goons; stream ice; made of running mountain waters; sea ice, made of heavier salt water, and driveway ice, made of snow that has a frozen crust.
All but one of these phenomena are tolerable. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, om January 27, 2026.)
It looks like what I’ll call the Patriot Playoff Snowstorm is finally over this morning. Yesterday, it continued to deliver tiny snowflakes most of the day. The Brooklin General Store’s parking area, shown here, was refilled with snow and had to be plowed again after this image was taken. The BGS is closed (only) on Mondays, so it didn’t matter much.
There has been a general store acting as a community hub and landmark at that location virtually without pause since Captain Elijah Reed built one there in 1872. (There have been a few short periods without a store for such things as selling the property and reconstruction.) The original store eventually had to be demolished in 2016 and the current one was built mostly on the original foundation in 2017.
The current owners, Alissa Wagner and Graham Macbeth, purchased the BGS in late 2023 and continue to operate it as a community focal point and café, with a focus on local produce, store-prepared foods, beers and wines, and fresh-roasted coffee. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 26, 2026.)
Well, the “major” snowstorm that was predicted for this area last night turned out to be only a corporal. Thank goodness! I don’t think that there were any power outages in our area and I didn’t see any tree blow-downs on our property this morning.
It was worse in Denver, where our amazing New England Patriots pulled another win out of the snowy hat and are Superbowl bound. Go Pats! At dusk, while the football game was on, a desperate white-tailed doe was feeding on garden grasses that deer have always shunned. We let her:
We got about 2 inches of new snow last night, with the highest recorded wind gusts at 16 mph. It was cold, though: in the low single digits during last night, warming from a minus 7.5°F at 2 p.m. yesterday, according to the local (Naskeag) weather station.
Here’s an early morning sea view from our porch, a woods view from our office windows, and some odds and ends, as seen through windows:
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 25 [Deer]) and 26, 2026.)
“Hibernation (hībərˈnāSHən). The state of being asleep for the winter.” (Cambridge English Dictionary’s oversimplification)
Stay safe and happy by watching the Pats beat the Broncos. GO PATS! (Even if the Pats lose, they’ve got plenty to be proud of.)
(Image taken in Brooklin [Brooklin Boat Yard’s small boatshed], Maine, on January 18, 2026.) Click on the image to enlarge it.
We’re bracing for what might be some of the nastiest winter weather here for many years, according to the weather sayers. I have to wonder about what it would be like to experience such a storm on the summit of our beloved near-mountain called Blue Hill. Its south face during our recent clear weather is shown here. It may disappear from view tomorrow.
January usually is our coldest month and there are few hikers on Blue Hill during the month; but there often are some on clear days and maybe a skier or two. The average daily temperatures there in January usually are not too bad; they reportedly range from highs of 31° to lows of 17° (F).
But there always is the windchill and a potential for extreme cold. High winds exceeding 60 MPH and significant snow accumulation with drifts exceeding 20 inches have occurred there in January, according to historical weather summations. It may get worse than that tomorrow, I hear.
As for the present, the temperature in Brooklin at 7 a.m. this morning was 06° Fahrenheit with West-Southwest wind gusts of 12 MPH. Windchill must have been below zero. Something’s coming. Tomorrow will be a good time to stay home and watch the Pats play the Broncos in Denver’s frigid weather. Go Pats!
(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on January 20, 2026.)
You’re looking at Patten Stream where it empties into Patten Bay. But the Bay is at high tide yesterday; its cresting salt water is smothering the Stream’s usually dramatic finale of fast-falling freshwater rapids cascading down the rocky shore. But that’s not nearly the most important part of the story.
Lately, that Stream’s flow has not been as dramatic as in prior years due to an extraordinary and persistent phenomenon that apparently is associated with Climate Warming. As the Washington Post of this January 20 reported: “More than two-thirds of the country is facing unusual dryness or drought, stretching from the Pacific Northwest to the East Coast, touching every state except California.”
We’re in an unusual winter drought and dry spell; the snow and rain that you’ve seen has not been absorbed. Maine is the most affected state in the Northeast:, according to yesterday’s federal U.S. Drought Monitor:
Maine is one of six states nationally with the largest percentage of their territory consumed by severe drought or worse:
The other five states are Georgia, North Carolina, Florida, New Mexico and Virginia.
(Photograph taken in Surry, Maine, on January 22, 2026.)
There was new snow and ice this week at Conary Cove, creating yet another look for the ever-changing historic scene. On the left you see the green federal style house in an architectural magazine pose. Its original sections probably were built in the 1880s on the site settled in the 1760s by Joseph Wood, one of the founders of Blue Hill.
On the right is the Cove’s jaunty boathouse that has a separate history. Built in 1924 with a pier, it originally was painted white and one of its prior owners regularly taxied into the Cove in his seaplane, which he parked beside the boathouse. Its personality was boosted when it was painted a congenial red in the 1950s.
(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on January 20, 2026.)
Here’s “The Lookout,” one of Brooklin’s most historic structures in one of the Town’s most beautiful settings overlooking Blue Hill Bay and the ocean beyond. The original, two-story 1760 Colonial style house and property were part of a land grant from the King of England to William Flye and the property has remained in the family since.
The original structure was named The Lookout in the 1760s because it served as a sentry point to detect hostile seafaring Native Americans who were, let us say, not unreasonably displeased with Europeans granting their land away. In the late 1800s, a third floor and west wing were added as part of a conversion to an inn.
Today, the whole area is called Flye Point and The Lookout property is popular for outdoor weddings and other open-air events, while the Inn portion has summer rooms with breathtaking views. The same views and fine meals are available in the summer to the public in The Lookout’s dining room.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January18, 2026.)
The first significant snow or 2026 began on Saturday, the 17th, but it began insignificantly. At first there were a few small, lazy flakes that seemed to have lost their way in a dark, windless sky. They wandered where they liked and clung to what they touched.
But their friends and family kept coming overnight and slowly knitted a thick white blanket that made Sunday’s first first peek out of the bedroom window a pleasant surprise:
It was easy to drive around during the gray day and see what Mother Nature was up to. Plowing the roads and private lanes during and after snowfalls is a major priority here, and public roads also are “sanded and salted” with an environmentally-safe substance.
The death and taxes area of Town was closed, as were the Baptist Church, Library and Morning Moon Cafe, but of course the General Store was open for business and serving a lot of its delicious roasted coffee:
A short distance down Reach Road, the renowned Brooklin Boat Yard at Center Harbor also was closed over the weekend. Old, uninhabited seaside boat yards have their own good spirits, especially with fine snow drifting down:
Center Harbor was still and devoid of the many beautiful sailing and power boats of summer:
A few miles down the coast, the working waterfront at Naskeag Harbor also was vacant and its waters quiet. The sun was trying (unsuccessfully) to break through the clouds. All local fishing vesels apparently were sheltering elsewhere, but the old summer house on Harbor Island was still seemingly keeping watch.
Interesting structures, artifacts and flora become more interesting after a good snowfall, especially those that have a brilliant color to glow through the monochromatics of a snowfall:
Finally, we come to today, Monday, January 19, 2026. It’s a holiday, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and the sun is trying (again, unsuccessfully) to break through the overcast while a few gypsy flakes wander in the woods. Here’s an image taken this morning of the same area where we started this post to show the first flakes falling:
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 17 through 19, 2025.)
Yesterday’s cold snap began icing in Blue Hill Bay again. This apparently was a signal for the local mallards to come and seek shelter and sustenance in the running fresh water below the dam at the mouth of Mill Stream.
Being mallards, they went into auto-quack mode upon seeing so many old friends and potential mates. You could hear the din through closed windows while driving across the Main Street bridge. I stopped trying to count the sleeping, swimming and flying mallards when I reached 70.
(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on January 16, 2026.)
Okay, I admit it: I’m obsessed with the many moods of the near-mountain called Blue Hill. Please try to bear with me.
Above, you see her Tuesday – serenely remote as the lowering tide pancakes the sea ice in her waters, Blue Hil Bay. Below, you’ll see her stoically maintaining her dignity while insolent storm clouds and rain try to torment her yesterday:
(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on January 13 and 15, 2026.)
Harry, the unusual porcupine, still wanders about in sun and snow during daytime instead of sleeping in a tree or otherwise being inconspicuous. He waddles into the underbrush when he sees me, but generally doesn’t erect his quills defensively if I stay a respectable distance away. Below are some interesting facts from scientific reports about those quills.
Porcupines reportedly have a coat of up to about 30,000 quills, which actually are modified hairs. The quills cover the rodent’s back, sides, and tail. When relaxed, they lie flat, mostly hidden under regular guard hairs and a thick, woolly underfur that is great for insulation.
However, when a porcupine feels threatened, it goes on alert and uses special muscles to erect its quills, making it look larger and (it hopes) frightening. The quills are only loosely attached and detach easily into the skin of any being that touches the porcupine or that is within range of a powerful tail swat that can drive quills deeply into skin. But porcupines do not shoot quills like arrows, as some myths maintain.
The quills have very sharp tips and very small backward-pointing, fishhook-like barbs. Thus, they penetrate skin easily but are extremely difficult and painful to remove, often requiring pliers for the quill and a sedative for the victim. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 11 and 13, 2026.)
