We’re looking at Babson Island trying to shelter Great Cove from the arctic winds this morning. It was (and is) brain-piercingly cold: 4 degrees (F) and wind gusts of 18 miles per hour that create a wind chill of minus 8 degrees.
Yesterday, there was no evidence of traffic (other than deer) on some of the prettier local lanes; many neighbors apparently are just hunkering for a while:
Winter Storm Harper’s snow shroud has about a one-inch ice cap, which makes it slippery to ski and body-wrenching to walk – you must stomp to get through the ice and pull your boot out of the underlying snow’s clutches. We may try snow shoes, if it warms up. It’s especially difficult to explore the internal woods now, but we did a little:
Familiar sights, such as sawed tree sections and foot paths over woods’ streams, have acquired a white patina:
The Camperdown Elm still presides in dignity in the Brooklin Cemetery, its angular architecture bowing in silence:
The Town Dock is piled with snow and festooned with ice, yet some of our hardy fishermen still go out:
For some neighbors, it’s a time to stick your head under your wing and dream about summer:
(Brooklin, Maine)