You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
When the icebreaker Thunder Bay visited Eastport last summer, I wondered why the Northeast would need one. And then I learned about the Penobscot and Kennebec rivers this time of year, as well as the mighty Hudson. Yes, they ice up even in the navigable tidal stretches.
Here’s how the Penobscot Narrows look from the observatory atop the Fort Knox bridge:
At the U.S. Coast Guard station. So much for Shakespeare.
That’s Fahrenheit, or minus almost 18 Celsius. And that’s after the reading had gone much, much further south.
I know we’re not alone in the northern U.S. in a brutal cold wave, especially after an unusually warm spell, but what’s hit us has been brutal. The kind of snap that probably killed off my favorite beekeeper’s hives. Minus 17 and quite windy, for one thing. The temps dropped about ten degrees an hour before finally bottoming out overnight, where they lingered. After that, about noon today, reaching zero felt like a relief, especially since it appears no pipes froze. We’ll see. Two or three nights in a row might have been a different story.
Oh yes, our fuel oil tank was reading much lower than I would have liked, especially once we cranked the thermostat up just to keep up. The very walls were radiating cold, after all.
Unlike last year, neighboring towns were recording roughly the same temps rather than ten or more colder. The ocean around our island wasn’t providing any relief.
Worse yet, a man could go mad under the unending roar of the wind, especially when the condition of the roofing is in question. Men definitely did out on the prairie and likely Scandinavia, but here? You see asphalt roofing tiles all over town when you walk (not yet today) and wonder about how many have come from your house. And we’re grateful the gusts didn’t go over 25 or so, rather than the 50 we were bracing for.
The sea smoke this morning was incredible, but you’ll have to take my word for it.
No way was I going out to photograph it.
A lovely heavy snow turned to rain. More snow was on the way.
Most of the scallop draggers, having already caught their limit, were already back for the day.
At the Pembroke public library.
As I’ve said before, a landscape comes together much differently from the water. And then there are all the depths you don’t see from the surface.
Note that north is not always straight up on the map.
From 1653 until 1820, Maine was governed by Massachusetts.
The westernmost port down there is Westport, beside Buzzard Bay. A lovely place, by the way.
And the easternmost port was Eastport, in waters subsidiary to the Bay of Fundy. As you’ve been seeing here.
But then, come 1820, the two extremes separated when Maine finally became independent as a state.
Now I guess that easternmost point down under distinction falls on Chatham, out on Cape Cod. And Maine has no Westport.
One year, while still living in New Hampshire, I was in Eastport one weekend, and Westport, the next. I saw it as some kind of weird coincidence, not knowing there really had been a rational connection.
Have you ever thought about the name of the place where you’re dwelling?
Well, they do promote themselves as the World’s Most Absurd Bar.
And we’ve concluded the reference isn’t just to the décor.
Jnana's Red Barn 