Still winter

A few photos from a walk this past weekend.

Upper Richardson Lake

Upper Richardson Lake

Aziscohos Mt

Island in Upper Richardson, Bemis Mt in the background

Maple,beech forest on Bald Mt

Beech leaves 

Late Winter.

This is the hard time of winter. A breathe of spring wafts on the air, snow begins to melt and mud arrives. If you fall for it,and you will,  it will hurt you. The cold will come back, it always does. And you will feel like a friend has disappointed you in a bad way, betrayed, crestfallen, almost to the point of tears. Some days it does bring you to tears.

This winter started out mild, gave promise with snow, but still it stayed warm. The lake didn't freeze like it should, and people died because of it. For 4 families it was a very bad winter.  Then the cold came, and with it ,the wind. Then a thaw, and rain,halving our snow.

The last two weeks it snowed every day. Not much, but no sun, wind and snow. Tempers got short, and the look on people's faces told the story. Enough. We've had enough. We want warmth, bare ground. Green.

I have noticed some holes opening in the ice, My road is getting muddy. No birds yet.

And yet, I love this time of year. It's still cold, and can be brutally cold, along with snow. But yet it holds promise. It frustrates, it taunts. You understand patience, you need it. Real bad.  Snow as it begins to melt, collapses under your weight, it soaks you, it wears you down.  Let it melt, it needs to follow it's design, and wait for cold, it will come.

We drift back and forth from sun to clouds & snow. But the dirty snow on the side of the roads belies the fact that Spring is coming. People are tapping their maples, it's sugaring season.

The other day, it rained, snow depth has dropped, then it froze. It's this warm to cold that I love. To hell with the rest of winter, give me late winter, early spring. I say that now, and come next fall, I will be waiting for winter, and marveling at its beauty, it's cold. The clarity of light, the harshness of it's storms, the chance to recoup and rest.

Last Fall

Bog bridge, Acadia National Park

Looking towards the Cranberry Isles, ANP

Glacial Erratic on Penobscot Mt, Acadia NP

Pre Hurricane Sandy

Beach cobbles,Otter Cliffs in the background

Monument Cove, Acadia NP

Bass Harbor Lighthouse

Bass Harbor Lighthouse

Upper South Branch Pond, Baxter State Park

Spruce Grouse

Clearing Storm, The Traveler

Crow looking for breakfast

White Pine at Maggie's Nature Park

Island on Grand Lake Matagamon, Baxter State Park

Grand Lake Matagamon, Baxter State Park

Red Maple seedling

Bull Frog

Cruise ship leaving Bar Harbor

Brachiopod fossil, Baxter State Park.

North Traveler and the Traveler

The Traveler

Bigtooth Aspen

Grand Lake Matagamon

Saddleback Mt

Cliffs at Lower South Branch Pond

Snyder on the tower, Bald Mt, Oquossoc

Rangeley Lake

I've had a pretty full Summer and Fall, as you can see.

Closing the silence

It's been a while. For that I apologize. The reason is my computer. After 6 years of service my computer has been slowing down, stopping to think for way too long and just being a pain to use. I am waiting for the new one to arrive, and then I would feel like smashing things when I go to post something. To post this, I've had to wait about half an hour for the computer to wake up,and I've also had to close all other programs to write. Using any photo editing has been hair pulling. But 6 years is a good long life for this IMac. I can't say that when I had Windows.

Since the Silence, I've been to Baxter and Acadia and seen a lot, I just haven't talked about it.

I hope everyone has had a very good Thanksgiving.

A little something different.

For those of you who subscribe to my blog either through Google Reader or some other RSS service, I just wanted to tell you that I started a Facebook page for The Wild Edge. You can either go to the blog and click on the badge to the left of the page or click this link to see what's up.  There I will be adding things that don't always fit well in a blog and those things that are news worthy, but I don't want to overfill the blog.

Quiet

There is something about the sound of a flyline cutting through the air, and the murmur of river and the smell of spruce,fir and pine that  makes time slow down. A soothing balm to the day, when even though you don't catch a fish, hell,don't even see one, doesn't matter. When nothing really matters, just being there in the woods, of you being in the woods.

Summer Nights

I used to go out in the dark of a summer night, and sit on the front porch and watch the cars, fewer the later it was, and also to watch the insects at the street light at the end of our drive along the main street. And watching from the dark into those pools of light.  Those nights in New Jersey, the air warm and rich with sounds, it gave depth and meaning to summer. And from my post I would hear the cars and trucks humming along out on the highway, distant dogs barking, and occasional cat fight. Lights flickering in a darkened house, as the people watched television.

And sometimes I would walk down the street, from one pool of light to another, relishing the safety and comfort of the dark. The streetlights casting dappled shadows onto the sidewalks, crickets and cicadas chirping the night along, the heat rising from the ground.  And if you went out to a field, the rabbits darting out of the way, the fog rising just to waist height. Walking into the backyard, into the darkness, following the fireflies.

At the shore,waves crashing on the beach, ghost crabs running , and you just standing there understanding why they earned that name, the appear and disappear like a specter.

Here in Maine, at least where I live a summer night seems much less rich . It's quieter, the crickets and other insects do not have that almost rain forest quality that the Pines Barrens had, there you felt the Jersey Devil. Here it seems more normal, whatever that means. Loons maniacally calling, their tremolos echoing across the water, distant laughter erupts out from vacationers.  It's quiet to some degrees that could lull you into some security, but  you don't or can't. Here you can hear something coming at you. A mouse seems giant. And it's darker, but the darkness is what makes it more richer. You can see the stars, really feel them.

A couple weeks ago deep in the night a porcupine was screaming I got up and followed, walking in the cool of the dark, seeking. The damp grass brushing against my legs, until I came to the tree the porcupine had gone to, its teeth chatting.

Thunderstorms in the night. The stars disappearing, increasingly darker, distant rumble of thunder.  The wind freshens,distant flash, more rumbling. The first drops hitting , tapping, then drumming, faster,harder, a lull, then the rain increases in intensity, more flashing, thunder louder, coming almost immediately with each flash. Dishes and other things clinking with the thunder, the house shakes.

Sometimes you must go out and stand in the dark, watching, listening, smelling. Meteors  or stars, or distant lightning. The quiet draws you out.  Morse code from the fireflies calls you, you slip into a time many years ago, when a warm summer night was magic, and now those years later, the magic comes back.

Paddling along in my canoe, the night closing in, stars on the water, making it look, no, feel like you're paddling through them. The tree line is blacker than black, the twilight lighting the way