Finally!

Well, we finally got some substantial snow, again. I have ached to go snowshoeing. After the snow at the beginning of this year, we had some cold days, but there was not enough additional snowfall. My knee has bothered me off and on, especially after the Women's March, and snowshoeing is an activity that for whatever reason (high knee stepping? soft landing?) doesn't make them more sore. 

In four days we got about 5", first; and then a few days later we got about 30-38", depending on where you were. It was GORGEOUS. These lovely pics (above and below) were from the day after the storm.

These, below, were right in the heart of the nor’easter:

Dogs had to leap-hop to move about the drifts.

Here's what it looked like at the tail end of it:

My husband was able to plow about four neighbors out, as well. One was trapped inside her house, post knee surgery. Her house faces north, where all the wind came from, and the snow in and around her yard and driveway was easily three feet or deeper. As we finished up, she opened her door to thank us, "I was actually getting claustrophobic!" Kind of scary, right?

The next few days provided wonderful snowshoeing. See for yourself.

Stillwater River, Old Town, ME

 I loved this late-afternoon shoe along the Stillwater River. It was so quiet, so serene.

There was a soft sunset the next day that I captured from my office parking lot.

Unfortunately, the weather turned warm quickly after this storm. I managed to get out for one last shoe before the warmth set in and reduced the snow to a mere few inches and ice. I did manage to get a pic of the pines in the University of Maine forest.

The very next day, we had fog and warm air and the maple sugar season had begun. 

A Moment

In the hush

of a winter sundown

when it appeared there was nothing

left to see, it happened.

A fog bloomed,

rising into the violet sky,

surreal and soft, like breath

from the snow and ice-cloaked

river. It seemed audible, an ethereal

whispering chorus

filling the evening air.

As I stood, now oblivious to

the deepening cold, the vapor

of my own breath mingled

with the dancing wisps.

In that moment,

as the earth turned, 

I felt witness

to a miracle.

Ice and Wonder

Last winter was a deluge of snow--over 130 inches. This winter, the rivers remain partially open. The days seem predominantly gray. The snow is not very snow-shoeable (my word). My insomnia has returned. It makes me wonder if my brain is panicking at the idea of a four-month mud season. In an attempt to turn things around, I got the camera and went looking for spots to inspire me. As I was about to turn toward my usual haunts, I noticed the ragged river ice and changed my destination. 

Look at these blocks!

The blue-grays were lovely and soothing. I continued shooting and forgot that the day was gray and I was tired (or just uninspired). Does anyone know what leads most of these breaks to be in such straight lines? Only the blocks that had frozen to the rough edge of the riverbank were not linear. I'm sure a physicist or geologist could explain this phenomenon. There are also bubbles of trapped air, like a celebratory flute of champagne. 

It was a wonder. 

Once again, grabbing my camera and getting outside was the answer. I lose all sense of time and paid no notice to the damp, gray air. As I turned to leave, some color appeared in the western sky.

I jumped into the car and zipped to a spot where some of the sunset might appear below the clouds. 

It seemed I was going to miss the finale, but I had hope!

Well, I caught the last wee-bit of it. Worth the chase.

It was so still, I could almost hear the sun closing the door on the day.