
Streams take off.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Streams take off.

Campobello Island, New Brunswick, viewed from Eastport, Maine.

Ours doesn’t come indoors until the day before Christmas and rarely is it decorated before dark. Long ago I learned the price of pushing the tradition to get the job done earlier in the day. Nope, it’s not a task to be done more efficiently.
Last year, we cut ours at Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge with a permit. You’d be amazed how few natural trees measure up. We’d see a good one only to find two growing close together. Separated, they were lobsided and had bald spots. This one caught our eye but we then passed, thinking it might be too open. A mile or two or walking later, we returned and decided to give it a try after all.
Here’s to the wonders of the tradition of sitting in a mostly dark room early morning or evening and enjoying the lighted branches.

As you see in York, Maine, the open Atlantic can get wild.


Their version of a drive-in restaurant, we suppose. There were others overhead, all ordering fresh alewives migrating upstream from the ocean.

We had to walk gingerly around it before it left, in a huff.

One looking regal.

And three in one shot. Including the one in the first shot, as it sits in the upper left corner of the second.

When the blooming finally hits New England, it can catch our breath.

Even when you step back.

Cedar in Whiting, Maine

Colby College, Waterville.