JOURNAL
The temperature here is 41 degrees (F) and rising as we speak. The snow in the woods has melted. Winter has slipped away again:
Last week, we had a light snow and a few days of temperatures in the 20s, which frosted the trails nicely.:
It looks like we may have another winter of freezing and thawing, which can’t be good for the trees and hibernating creatures. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 12 [no snow] and 9 [snow], 2021.)
Cemeteries seem to be at their most spiritual in falling snow. Here we see the iconic Camperdown Elm Tree in the Brooklin Cemetery last week seemingly extending her muscular arms to protect her assigned plots.
The Brooklin Cemetery has a number of specimen trees and plants that may have been put there under the influence of the American Garden Cemetery Movement, which reportedly started in New England. The first garden cemetery was opened in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1831; the second in Bangor, Maine, in 1834, according to histories of the Movement.
The main idea of the Movement was to make visits to the graves of loved ones visually pleasurable with the addition of ornamental trees, bushes, and other plants, and even waterways. Prior to the 1830s, town cemeteries often were just weedy fields of overcrowded grave markers. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 10, 2021.)
Visitors to Brooklin frequently are amazed when they enter this building, now decorated for the holidays.
It’s a library that provides tens of thousands of hard cover books, e-books, CDs, videos, free computer stations, usually an exhibit of local art, streamed music access, frequent lectures, conference facilities, and more. Yet, this treasure trove is in a rural Maine town that has only 812 permanent residents, according to the last official count. How can this be?
Well, one part of the answer is that Brooklinites love it, use it, and have supported it for years. It’s the Friend Memorial Public Library. It originated in 1896 and moved to its present location on land donated by Brooklin’s Friend family in 1912.
Another part of the answer is that providing rural libraries is a tradition in New England, where the Free Public Library Movement is said to have begun in 1849. That year, New Hampshire’s legislature authorized rural towns to levy taxes to create and fund free public libraries. Massachusetts followed suit in 1851, as did Maine in 1854. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 9, 2021.
After traveling dark country roads to get to Brooklin in December’s early evenings, residents suddenly see the welcoming holiday lights of the Brooklin General Store:
On some nights they also see the lights of the Leaf & Anna gift shop around the bend and the quarter moon above:
General stores, the first American convenience stores, were common in small rural communities until about 1910. That’s when automobiles and the first trucks liberated farmers. Prior to that, farmers often would take their butter, eggs, and other commodities, to the general store and barter them for packaged staples. The storekeeper would then resell the fresh foods. Prices often were not marked on items because many customers wanted to negotiate a price.
A surprising number of old general stores still operate in New England, where tourists seem to love them in summer and wine, beer, and staples sales keep the enterprises alive in winter. Our General Store is the latest in a line of general stores that have served the community well since at least 1872, with only a few relatively short lapses. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 9, 2021.)
Yesterday was sunny and cold and the thin covering of snow from the day before remained white and untrammeled by humans.
It was a fine day for going into the woods early to see snow-banked streams zigging and zagging through the soft morning light and to try to follow the hurried tracks of fellow mammals who commute to their night jobs on the trails there.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 9, 2021.)
This image of a poinsettia plant appears today in our monthly column in the Ellsworth American.
To read the column, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column
We got a glimpse of this Maine Marine Patrol Vessel yesterday. She was patrolling Naskeag Harbor and, having found no pirates or other illicit activity, was gone within minutes.
Maine’s Marine Patrol is the oldest law enforcement organization in the State. Its history extends from 1867, when the Maine legislature authorized state-wide enforcement of conservation requirements for marine species.
This Patrol Vessel is a 46-foot Wesmac Super-Wide named Sergeant. She was named in honor of the late Stanley “Cappy” Sergeant, a Maine fisherman who participated in many State marine resource projects.
Her 803-horsepower diesel engine gives her plenty of chase speed and, for shallow water and more delicate work, she also carries an outboard-powered rigid hull inflatable boat in a cradle on deck. She can bring up and check lobster traps with a lobster trap hauler in her stern.
The Sergeant is called a Super-Wide because her 17-foot,1 inch beam (widest point) is 3 feet wider than the standard 46-footer. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 7, 2021.
The ancient Greeks reportedly believed that weather was an indicator of how their gods were feeling. Storms indicated that Zeus, their most powerful god, was in a bad mood and had to be placated. Yesterday, Zeus apparently had a very painful bout of acid reflux:
He chilled the air, violently hurled rain, and stampeded the wind into gusts of more than 40 miles per hour. Then, in the afternoon and apparently just for the hell of it, Zeus ordered the sun to come out and charge into a dark crowd of weeping clouds to break them into pieces. That’s what you see here. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 6, 2021.)
Here you see a local pond with about an inch of clear blue (some say black) ice yesterday morning. Clarity and color are important, according to researchers. Clear blue ice is the strongest; it’s formed by pond or lake water freezing.
Cloudy white ice is weaker; it’s usually formed when snow on an ice surface melts and freezes. Gray ice is weaker than white ice and is formed by ice that is starting to break down. White-spotted gray ice is the weakest; it’s just about to disintegrate on its own.
The Maine Inland Fishery & Wildlife Department’s safety warnings are given in inches for pond or lake surface water that has frozen into clear blue ice: 2” is safe for one person to stand on; 3” for a group of people walking single file; 7.5” for a two-ton automobile; 8” for a 2 ½-ton truck; 10” for a 3 ½-ton truck.
Other sources say that anything less than four inches of clear ice is unsafe to ice skate on and that ice on rivers and other moving waters should be approached with extreme caution. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December5, 2021.)
This landmark weeping beech tree at Amen Farm finally has dropped most of her leaves now, revealing her previously covered curves. She’ll probably keep some of her lowest leaves on until spring brings her a new wardrobe.
Some trees, especially beeches, oaks, and willows, are too bashful to disrobe while the other trees are doing so in the fall. This beech’s leaves didn’t begin to wither until November. Here’s what she looked like in late October:
The trees that have such longer-lasting leaves are said to have “marcescent” leaves, a word derived from the Latin root for drooping, withering, and languishing. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 20 [with leaves] and December 3 [without most leaves], 2021.)
March winds came a bit early yesterday, with some gusts exceeding 50 miles per hour. Normally placid Great Cove was crawling with whitecaps, which made me realize that I didn’t know much about these waves.
It turns out that new studies of them are being devised to improve the accuracy of models for predicting climate changes, according to reports in Nature magazine.
Most whitecaps are caused by the wind blowing over the ocean surface fast enough to make waves that crest with droplets and bubbles that scatter the light into whiteness. It’s a mixture of air and sea water. Beneath each wave is a significant turbulence known as the “bubble plume.” That plume is being studied with new visualization methods because bubbles play a surprisingly important role – physical, chemical, and biological – in the air-sea interface.
As the bubbles rise, they scavenge bacteria and organic material and buoy it to the surface; at the surface, bubbles increase gas transfers between the sea and air, and they even are the sources and scatterers of underwater sound. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 3, 2021.)
This troupe of apple trees on the WoodenBoat School campus is thought to be over 100 years old, yet they still dance daily.
(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 1, 2021.) Click on image to enlarge it.
This is one of the last moments of daylight here yesterday, a fine first day performance by December. The sun is sinking behind Deer Isle and Babson Island is still visible as it protects Great Cove.
We’re into sunset season now and expect to see some spectacular sights well into January. Here’s part of the afterglow last night:.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on December 1, 2021.)
November was unusually warm this year, which may have been the reason that the month often was fall-like. Our blueberry fields turned into the most interesting reds that we’ve ever seen. Tamaracks (larches), sand cherries, chokecherries, maples. and large oaks remained vibrant well into the month.
The month also was a good one to be in the woods when the light would seep through portals in the canopy where the summer’s leaves once were. In the late afternoon, the low sun would send soft, golden shafts of light. At other times, the light would dapple dark trails, illuminate the fallen leaves, and warm the last of the year’s mushrooms.
November’s pure, cold air and stratocumulus clouds enhanced our water views and, by the end of the month, the ponds and streams had started icing.
The month was not all blue skies and sunshine, of course. Our first (very modest) snow fall this winter came near the end of November and several torrential rains provoked our streams into rages.
Speaking of water, November is when the lobster season ends for most of our fishermen. They bring their traps in to be stacked and trailered to storage. Some of the fishing vessels also will be stored “on the hard,” while others will be reconfigured to dredge for scallops during the winter.
Of course, November is the month to give thanks, which is especially appropriate for those who are lucky enough to live on the coast of Maine. Below you’ll see one of our feathered neighbors who was lucky enough to be parading with pride on Thanksgiving Day.
November’s frequently clear skies made watching the moon mature into the month’s full Beaver Full Moon an adventure.
Finally, November is the beginning of sunset season here, when the sun sinks low and to our southwest and the cold air rids the atmosphere of much of its water and pollutants. This allows the warmer colors in the sun’s rainbow of light to be seen, not to mention November’s crescent moon..
(All images here were taken in Down East Maine during November 2021.)
Many of our lobster boats recently have been converted to trawlers for the opening of the scallop dredging season tomorrow.
Above, you see the converted Dear Abbie: in Naskeag Harbor yesterday with her recently added mast and boom for trawling with a scallop dredge. The dredge is a steel-framed, chain mesh “net” that has a twine top for unloading; it’s dragged along the sea bottom to collect scallops and then winched onboard for unloading.
Dear Abbie: also now has a wooden “shelling house” constructed behind her cabin. That’s a protection from cold winter winds for the crew member who shucks the muscles from the scallop shells and puts that “meat” into containers. (What we eat are the scallops’ shell-opening and “swimming” muscles; the empty shells are thrown back into the water.)
Some of the converted fishing vessels are both trawlers and platforms for aqualung divers who hand-harvest choice muscles from the sea floor; these are the more expensive “divers’ scallops.” Tarrfish, shown above, , is one of these; she has a drop-down stern transom, which can be used to enter and exit the water easily. The diving season here opens December 2. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on November 29, 2021.)
The woods yesterday morning were refreshingly chilly and pure, full of shafts of light briefly transforming unremarkable areas into dramatic stages awaiting action. But, it was noisy. Walking on frosty fallen leaves is like walking on potato chips. It was impossible to be stealthy and get close to our woodland neighbors.
However, on my return, I did get fairly close to a snowy owl. Not one of those that are irrupting here on streaming Canadian winds, though. This was a one-of-a-kind from the strong hands of Cabot Lyford (1925-2016), the acclaimed granite sculptor who adopted Maine as his home.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on November 28, 2021.)
Here you see an Eastern wild turkey that had no hesitancy about parading with her extended family around here during the Thanksgiving season. Maine, once an importer of wild turkeys, is now exporting part of its surplus of them to east Texas, where they have been in perilous decline.
Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on November 19, 2021
In years gone by, Maine had its own difficulties preserving wild turkeys, our biggest game bird. Early attempts to reintroduce the birds were failures. Fifty years ago, wild turkeys had become as scarce as flamingoes here. It was thought by some that they could not adapt to harsh winters or survive serious spring hunting.
Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 21, 2019
However, during the 1970s and 1980s, wildlife officials in Vermont and Connecticut contributed 110 turkeys to a new Maine turkey reintroduction and wildlife management program. It was a well-managed program that succeeded; some now say that it was too successful.
Wild turkeys here are at unprecedented numbers and even populate our coldest, snowiest, and most hunted counties. Maine’s spring population of the big birds has increased to between 60,000 and 70,000, providing hunters about 6,000 harvested birds in the spring and between 2,000 and 3,000 in the fall, according to State officials and the National Wild Turkey Federation.
Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on March 17, 2018
(Brooklin, Maine)
We were beginning to forget what it felt like to experience snow, but the snow fairy visited this morning and gave us a mild reminder. She just sugared the spruce tips and leaves – yes, we still have some leaves – and lightly covered the landscape with a thin blanket.
Every now and then, a lost snowflake will drift by the window. Maybe she isn’t done.
But it was a harsh reminder of our laziness during our warm November. We left the deck furniture out too long and failed to put in the snow stakes along the driveway.
Looks like we’ll miss some good football this afternoon while doing those chores. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on November 27, 2021.)
Here you see, but unfortunately can’t hear, a robust local stream laughing as it clears its hurdles in the race to the marshes yesterday morning. We’ve had more than our share of rain to keep our streams vigorous and our woods vibrant:
(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on November 25, 2021.)
And, conditions continue to get better in the interior of the State. Maine’s dry areas have shrunk considerably compared to last year, according to this week’s U.S. Drought Monitor. At this time last year, almost 11 percent of Maine was in severe drought. Now it’s 5.32 percent. Nonetheless, an estimated 59,619 Mainers are even now affected by moderate or severe drought, according to the report.
The above Monitor map for data as of November 23 shows the State’s areas that have no harmful dryness (white), compared to those that are “abnormally dry” (yellow), in “moderate drought” (tan), or in “severe drought” (burnt orange):
(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine on November 12, 2017.)
