A Winter Walk at Wolfe's Neck Park

It was a glorious day for a winter walk with temperatures just above freezing. We drove to Wolfe's Neck Park in Freeport, one of our favorite places in Maine. The longest loop takes only an hour so my son decided to walk the ten miles home on his own.

Together we hiked the compacted trail with only microspikes, leaving our snowshoes in the car. 

Yesterday's ice storm left the trees glistening like cut glass. Streams gurgled with melting snow.

Evergreens dripped like rain. 

An ocean of ice reflected the bright sunlight, so deceptively warm.

Casco Bay was still mostly frozen, fractured by thaw and tides.

As the sun slipped behind a cloud, the blues intensified.

We climbed down the slick steps to the shore.

Where the ocean stretched to the horizon and beyond.

Time to Party for Spring

Before the inundation of tourists, the sand reveals only tideprints.

Waves break under bluebird skies.

Coastal estuaries cycle through mudflat and flood,

rocking clammer boats in empty currents.

Clouds whisk across the sky, 

bringing more rain but also brilliant greens.

In my garden, bumblebees hum over wild violets,

While chartreuse shoots tickle desiccated leaves...

And beer cans are tossed 

from the dorms next door.

Sunset at Popham Beach Off-Season

Off-season sand is mirror smooth.

Only neoprened surfers brave the sea.

The horizon stretches wider than my vision.

When I despair that all is blue,

Nature surprises me with a flare of crimson.

Then daylight fades like cooling embers, 

Leaving nothing but abstraction.

A Walk at Bowdoin College

It's hard to work at home when the trees are calling me outside. 

A day of writing merits a walk to Bowdoin College...

...says Scout. 

Rolling in fallen leaves offers a fine view of the sugar maples.

Often we linger to watch the sunset over Hubbard Hall, 

where my husband teaches politics.

Other days we head home for sundowners in our backyard, 

wrapped in fleece and down.

The view from inside isn't too shabby, 

and reading in the tub doesn't feel like work at all.

Photo Verse for October

Prose becomes verse on autumnal days.

Trees catch fire, burning brighter than words,

Their golden reds taunting the murky depths.

Maples fireworks explode in clear blue skies.

Pines shadows highlight this deciduous extravagance. 

How can these gaudy colors be natural?

I am no poet, but October engenders such reflections.

Winter Jigsaw

Sometimes when I'm revising a manuscript, I hit a wall of snow. 

Old words seem frozen solid, unmoving and unmovable. 

My stream of thought is blocked. The structure falls.

But if I look carefully, I find a small opening,

And finally a clear path. I must cut fresh tracks in what has fallen, but if I keep going...

I discover an unexpected vista,

Where all the fragmented pieces fit into a story. 

How to Love January

 A winter walk at Popham Beach

With my intrepid family,

 Daring frosted sand

  And frigid sky and sea.

 Then warming up at North Creek Farm

And home in time for tea.

Blog Watch: can you believe it's my eighth Blog Anniversary? Thanks for reading and keep warm! It's minus ten Fahrenheit this morning. I'm taking a one-week blog vacation to head south to NYC.
Next post: Tuesday January 30th.

Autumn Seduction

Golden morning

Leads me into the woods

On pine needle footsteps, 

Over tap-tapping bridges,

Past gurgling reflections,

Under rustled leafshine,

Where brazen maples

Shimmy, blush and wave,

Flirting with that cool sky.