Clearly Cold

Mon-

Around here in the winter, a relatively warmer day will be cloudy or wet, while a clear day is almost inevitably cold.  For all the blather about wind chill, I am one of the old school that worries a lot more about the actual, absolute degree.  I, for one, do not stand around naked in this weather (nor any other) and don’t really care what the temperature would feel like if I did so.

Ice forms decorations on the infinitely varied tideline.  A visiting New York conceptual artist could do no better.  A New York conceptual art critic, on the other hand, might make a great deal of all this while seeking to enlighten you and me about the profound meaning of it all, and especially about the possible dollar value of the transient artifact, and even more emphatically about the importance of such critics to our world.
Tue-

Now is about a dormant as things get in this relatively mild maritime climate.  Oh, there will be another month of hard freezes and deep snows, maybe the grass will brown a bit more.  But surprisingly, as the days grow noticeably longer, there are also increased signs of growth.

Already I can see the tips of bulbs pushing up from frozen beds.  A few pussy willows are almost open, and buds are noticeably swelling in some of the trees.  These things become more and more obvious as each thaw reveals a bit more life.  My problem is that I think because I see them happening that spring must be near.  It is not.

Wed-

Snow arrived earlier than expected, with cold.  This is around eleven on Tuesday, temperature about fifteen, wind driving the snow horizontally.  The visibility has obviously been knocked down considerably.  Believe it or not, there are still some of us old regular walkers and joggers out here, pretending we are as hardy as our ancestors.

When heading back into the gale, I was grateful to be wearing a ski mask to take away some of the stinging as the flakes were driven into my cheeks.  Other than that I was incredibly warm, layered in wonderful modern materials.  Being retired means I can totally enjoy days like this, since I have nowhere to go and nothing to do.   The hard part, as it was all my life, is to make the effort to get out the door and experience the storm, instead of sitting on the couch listening to others try to describe it.
Thu-

When I titled the week, I foresaw the polar air and the blue skies, but not the snow in between.  Well, we’ve got the blue skies and the frigid temperature and a blustery wind.  So we can just sort of ignore all the snow on the ground.

I’m not along the harbor this morning because I hate walking in this.  Oh, not the six degree temperatures _ my clothes can handle that fine.  The lack of shoulders along the roads, and the anger of the drivers who must be out and about, make me feel I am doing some death defying stunt every time I venture past the end of our driveway.  People have never been so independent of the weather, yet, no matter, they still resent any ruffle to their internal timetables.

Fri-

All these nights below ten degrees, the harbor is finally starting to freeze over.  Looks like we may get a pretty thick cover this year, shifting and crushing, which means some of the folks who left their boats in the water have lost their bet.  But, of course, anything can happen.

This view makes it pretty obvious why no reeds survive upright by the end of the winter.  Not even counting the snow and gales, the water does a pretty good job of pulverizing any organic matter on shore.  It’s all very beautiful if you are dressed warmly and can appreciate it.  Infinite diamonds sparking under a stark sky.
Sat-

Maybe the geese wonder what happened to the water, maybe they don’t care.  I can’t get any closer because I would no doubt slide right down into a hole.

For eons, humans have attached their own thoughts and attributes to other animals, rocks, spirits and natural events.  Scientists tell us it is foolish, but making stories is after all how we form our real world-view.  I will let those geese think just what I think they should ….

Sun-

There is still some low-hanging fruit around for birds that are adventurous enough.  When it gets below 10, you don’t seem to find many of the smaller creatures.  Probably takes more energy to look for food than it is apt to provide.

It’s always nice to find some unexpected natural color in the landscape.  Winter is brown and white and _charitably _ blue if we include the sky.  I know, I know, dawn and sunset break those rules. Still, these red berries at midday are oddly comforting. 

  

Normal Lows

Mon-

One inescapable consequence of global warming seems to be extremes in weather conditions.  The storms have more wind and precipitation, the heat waves are hotter, the cold waves are colder, the droughts are dryer.  Meanwhile, the tides inch upward, and nature reacts to all of this somewhat subtly but in a manner that we become aware of over time.

We should probably appreciate anything “normal” or “average” on the infrequent weeks when it shows up.  This week, the meteorologists assure us, will be such a time.  This clearing morning sky may not agree.  In the meantime, I just enjoy what I can, happy for whatever pageant may appear.
Tue-

Sometimes, it strikes me how the world is changing even as I accept it each day.  What I take for granted might be completely extraordinary a few years from now.  How many people really noticed, for example, when the horse was replaced by the automobile?  How many people my age, for that matter, were watching as great ocean liners and their city piers disappeared in the face of inexpensive air flights?

So I see this oil truck and _ well, perhaps that is in the same class.  Not only are new homes becoming much more efficient and insulated, but oil heat almost everywhere around here is hanging on by a thread, since natural gas is cheaper, cleaner, and more useful.  Will I miss deliveries?  No, not really, no more than anyone ever missed the horse shit all over the street when animals were finally gone.

Wed-

Stone, plaster, stucco and tile all look more beautiful when wet.  Coindre Hall can take on aspects of being a real French chateau, at least if you squint a little.  Anyway, I enjoy the changes in the appearance of materials with the weather conditions.

A meteorologist on the news yesterday mentioned that our concern with weather is a recent thing _ from the 1800’s or 1900’s on.  Before that, people only spoke of seasons, as in a “wet spring” or “cold winter.”  It’s odd as that we were less and less affected by the daily vagaries of storm and sun we should become more and more preoccupied with them.  Perhaps another example of perverse human nature ….

Thu-

Fog seems to be a kind of metrological confusion.  Oh, yes, it is just low clouds _ common enough.  And weather has no anthropological basis, confused or otherwise.  But after all that _ well it seems the water just can’t make up its mind whether to drip or absorb into invisibility. 

That brings out all kinds of responses from us.  Mysterious, enveloping, beautiful, annoying.  It’s hard for me to make up my mind as well.  Here our inlet seems a tiny replica of the Golden Gate, while dark pilings hold reality firmly in place.

Fri-

Solitary working boat in the harbor, not only surviving ice and cold but challenging it.  At times, this area can be as picturesque as Europe.  Of course, it’s all in the selection of the pictures and presentation _ but the Europeans know that too. 

I try not to be dogmatic about photographs. The essential fact is that any image capture is untrue to our actual experience and vision.  No matter how much you try to make it “realistic” it never can match someone on the spot.  So tricks, like zoom or fuzz or color adjustment are simply playthings added to what is basically a lie anyway.

Sat-

Tiny red tugboat behind rusting orange crane, both unemployed until the spring.  The feathery rushes somehow survive all kinds of wind and rain and freeze for months.  They look a lot more fragile than they really are.

I can search for profound thoughts or follow logical trails to fantasy meanings, but often it is best to just let the mind clear.  Not try to think of why or how or what it all means, but simply appreciate what is.  That is not only this view but also the wind and temperature and sounds and contented feel of my musculature letting me wander along.

Sun-

As I walked, unpredicted drizzle turned into unexpected rain into unusual sleet into surprise heavy snow shower.  Naturally, it all stopped as I reached home again.  One of those days when you just have to grin and bear it.

Big fat flakes rapidly coating everything bring out the inner child, delighted that the everyday world suddenly turns so magical.  Not just the images, but the cold patches landing on nose and lips, then melting.  The hush that falls from any falling water absorbing ambient sounds.  And the frisson of possible danger.  It’s important to listen to that voice sometimes.

  

Winter Weird

Mon-

Had been planning to theme this week as “winter bound” _ it’s been hard to get out the house these last few days between snow and cold.  But this morning when I arose it was 57 degrees out, the icicles were gone with most of the white cover and I hardly felt trapped in spite of the downpour.  By midnight, we are supposed to be back in the teens.  Should be an odd week …

Afflicted with a common disease of the age, I end up taking too many pictures and saving them.  This is from the “archives” of a week ago.  Although I sometimes make fun of those who rush from place to place snapping shots to prove their presence,  I respect that doing something that will “save” an experience lends a focus to life, makes us concentrate, and can make us appreciate things more.  Like these vines and branches, that I would no doubt otherwise ignore, which form a pretty tracery over the empty port.
Tue-

Strange little thaw leaves the turf frozen under a thin layer of mud.  Signs of winter everywhere are clear enough.  Looking north a kind of peach color breaks through saw-toothed clouds over the hundred-year-od lighthouse.  Although the camera can’t really catch them, I love the infinite variety of soft browns in landscapes such as this.

Extreme weather does help us appreciate any breaks when we have them.  It is easier to appreciate a rainy day in the fifties when it is sandwiched between a blizzard and sub-arctic howling wind.  Our memories tend to be so short that after a week or less we take whatever wonders we encounter each moment for granted.

Wed-

We’re in the second of several days of below-ten degree weather, but this picture was taken before it settled in.  My poor equipment and technique does not capture it adequately, but I love the green glow of lichen on old trees on damp days from here on through the summer.  There’s something mystic and ancient about the rough chaotic growth.

Some might say _ well, improve your technique and equipment.  I have become as fanatic as anyone concerning certain things during my life, and I now resist.  There is a happiness in staying within self-imposed bounds, not becoming an expert, not devoting hours to something you like to do casually.  My technique and equipment is totally adequate for my demands.  Upping my demands would only complicate my life unnecessarily
Thu-

With the frigid temperatures, a skim of ice forms, mostly from fresh water layered on top.  We have a lot of springs coming out of the hills along the waterfront, constantly trickling (or pouring) out of the sand.  That drives the road crews nuts because the embankment under the blacktop keeps getting undercut and is always wet.

This boat probably won’t be going out today.  I say probably because, like the rest of us, clammers can be crazy sometimes.  If they need to get to their boat, they will, even if they have to chop their way.  If you look closely, in the mid distance by the sailboat there are trails of a few who have already gone through.
Fri-

Hal Harzog wrote Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat concerning our odd relation to various animals.  Geese seem to fill all the roles at once.  We are capable of fervently holding immense contradictions, various parts of which we truly believe for minutes at a time.

Geese are an aggravating nuisance, fouling water and grass and crowding other waterfowl.  Some areas have taken to capturing or shooting and turning them into human dinners or pet food.  On the other hand, they are kind of beautiful and some of the little bits of nature we get to see up close.  This particular group seems to think it owns the park, as it takes a stroll on the pond ice.
Sat-

Rainy slush turning to slick compressed ice under my boots and car tires.  Sirens going wild in the background, no doubt someone thinking they could stop faster than this surface would allow.  You can’t fight physics, and the physical properties of water at various temperatures are insanely amazing.

The little cabin-like house at the top of the “back hill” is not quite a remnant of much earlier days, but it does date to a time before the mansions that crowd rapidly month after month.  Everyone is either building new or expanding their quite comfortable dwelling to the size of a big-box store.  I’ve never quite figured out what they all see in it.  Having more natural yard is infinitely more interesting than more square yards of carpet and tacky doodads.  Well, the differences in people’s tastes are insanely amazing as well.

Sun-

Ice and tide have mown the seagrass, which now fully engages in its annual rest.  Mats of grass and reeds either sink to the bottom to decay and nourish hidden chains of life, or litter the harbor shore.  Except for drift, not much is going to happen until the subtle solar signals of spring signal rebirth (whew!)

Weather stays extremely variable, as indicated by the distant fog where the cold water meets very warm freakishly humid air.  The only reason I can see at all is because the wind is whipping away the local soup, around the bend the fog is shaping into strange waves like some dry ice vaudeville spectacular.  We have been assured (but not by nature itself) that everything will now return to normal and average.