We woke this Sunday to an ice storm. Ice storms can be very beautiful, turning the forest to crystal. They can also be destructive, snapping trees under the weight of the frozen water.
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Category Archives: Our Forest
Fading Fire, Part 2
Fading Fire, Part 1
Trees seems to reach into the deep blue sky to catch the last light of the setting winter sun.
Short Winter Days
In Maine this time of year, the sun rises at 7am and sets at 4pm—a short day. For most of the daylight hours, the sun hangs low giving a feeling of early morning or late afternoon, never the bright midday light of summer. In December in Maine, light is a treasure, even the fading fire of the setting sun through the bare branches of the forest.
Winter Surprise
Monday morning we woke to a white world. We were expecting perhaps a half an inch of snow overnight, but not the four inches that we found. Click on the image for a larger version.
Winter Arrives
We had about a half an inch of snow yesterday, bringing an end to the Thanksgiving weekend. There are few things as peaceful as being in a forest during a gentle snow storm. The snow, falling in gentle arcs, blankets the ground under the bare trees. The air is fresh and seems to soak up sound.
The Tranquility of Late Fall, Part 3
The tamarack, or eastern larch, signals the end of fall. We have a small stand just behind our house. Unlike pine, fir, and spruce, the tamarack turns color.
The Tranquility of Late Fall, Part 2
One of the bounties we received by letting our field revert to nature was an explosion of blackberry. Blackberries are one of our most productive crops that supplies us with fruit though winter and into the spring. But now in late fall, over two months since the last berry was picked, the blackberry canes are putting on a wonderful display of color.
The Tranquility of Late Fall, Part 1
Naomi and I moved to Maine in 2006. We soon settled in a small cape on four and a half acres of land. Part of our property is a small field that was dutifully cut every year. We stopped that practice and let the field chose its own destiny. It was not long before it was populated with all kinds of plants. Goldenrod is the most prolific and, at this time of year, has traded its gold for silver.
The Fires of Late Fall, Part 2
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