January 14: Playoffs

We're sitting on our king-size bed in our generic room in the Portland Airport Hilton, watching football playoff games. Just saw the 49ers upset the Saints, and now the Big Game is on: Patriots vs. Broncos! Early tomorrow morning we fly to Florida, but for now, we're very focused on New England. Go Pats!

Anyplace is home
when the Patriots are on,
even this hotel.

January 13: Up on the Roof

I happened to look up at my snow-covered roof this afternoon and noticed a pattern of animal tracks. I'd never noticed animal tracks on the roof before. Frankly, I was a bit surprised, as this fall we'd had several tree limbs cut back that used to overhang the house. Some critter--I was imagining a squirrel--had either made a really big leap from the old maple tree (a flying squirrel?) or somehow scaled the building. The line of tracks seemed to begin somewhere at the back of the house, come over the peak to a certain point near the front of the roof, and then return, furrowing a big V in the snow.

When I moved closer to see if I could get any sense of what kind of animal had made the tracks, I noticed something else up there, something grey and lumpy lying under the eave. My first panicked thought was that some animal had been killed up there and now I'd have to go remove a corpse from my roof. But I soon realized that I was looking at part of a bee's nest, a big chunk of paper cells. Where had that come from? Had the mystery animal brought it there, or had it found it on the underside of the eaves? Is there something to eat in a winter bee's nest? What kind of animal would eat it? What all had been happening up on the roof?

Story in the snow:
tracks on the roof... a bee's nest...
You figure it out!

January 12: Snow, of course

What else is anyone talking about today? We finally got the big storm we were supposed to get, with heavy wet snow flakes turning into icy, face-stinging pellets by day's end. Driving was treacherous. Just walking up to my front door was treacherous when I slipped and almost fell. I had to shovel my way into the driveway, and now wet garments drape all the heating vents. It's a typical Maine winter snow storm. Now it feels like a typical Maine winter. It only took till the second week of January. But it makes me all the more thankful I'm off to Florida in a few days.

Snow heavy with ice.
As Frost said, "Ice would suffice."
He meant the world's end.

January 11: Icing in

The patch of water behind the Seabright Dam on the Megunticook River--the very patch of water that I can see from my office--has been contracting and expanding through our various freezes and thaws this winter. Every morning I scan the river before heading inside. It hasn't iced in completely, yet, but it's close, such a small strip of water remaining that even the little buffleheads have flown upstream to where there's more open water to paddle around in. And tonight's cold and snowstorm might be all it needs to ice over all the way across, linking the two banks, stilling the water visible to me above the dam. Even below the dam, rushing water falls almost unseen under a wide, rippled curtain of ice. Slowly the world turns static and white. The water molecules lock together. And grow still.

No ice-skating yet.
River's icy door closes
slowly this winter.

January 10: More Moon

Tonight during a guided discussion for women leaders at a restaurant on Rockland Harbor, the buzz of conversation was suddenly halted. "Look out the window!" the session leader exclaimed. "The moon!" We all craned our necks to catch a glimpse of the big gold moon slowly crowning above a cloud. The chatter grew louder in our excitement over witnessing such a sight. I wondered if a roomful of men would have had the same response.

We admire the moon,
most of us women thinking
that it's a goddess.

January 9: Wolf Moon

The January full moon was traditionally referred to as the Wolf Moon among some native tribes, presumably because this time of year you'd hear hungry wolves howling in the night forest, perhaps circling the village. While that name carries a slightly menacing tone, there's nothing scary about tonight's moon rising over Mount Battie and Camden Harbor. The moon has only been up for a few hours, and already many friends on Facebook have posted photos and exclaimed on its beauty. In town this evening I was struck by how its misty glow transformed even the town smokestack into the stuff of poetry. Around here, we notice a bright, beautiful full moon, and allow ourselves to be affected by the sight. Maybe to the point of wanting to howl ourselves...

Fat, full moon, Wolf Moon--
such power to transfix us
with your glowing eye.

January 8: Duck and Cover

My dad was very anxious to report to me an avian drama playing out at their house. Three bald eagles--two adults and one younger bird--were repeatedly diving at a little duck swimming around in the partially open water of the river in front of their house. One of the eagles would swoop down, and the duck would dive underwater to escape. It would stay under for a while, but when it finally popped up for air, another eagle would attack again. My dad theorized that they were trying to exhaust the duck to the point at which one of them could catch it. Its compatriots waited on the ice and in a tree, no doubt prepared to battle the hunter for the eventual prey. Diving underwater was the duck's only hope for survival, as out of water, it would have indeed become a sitting duck, an easy mark.

The tactic paid off. The eagles moved on for easier prey, and the duck lived to see another day.

Three eagles, one duck.
Sometimes the odds mean nothing:
lucky duck escaped.