The merry hubbub of December is over, and, as always, I am sorry to see it end. Somehow, all the holiday preparations and bustle brighten this darkest month of the year.
Yet January in Maine has its consolations. Yes, it is one of the coldest months, but it is also one of the most beautiful, alternating between snowy days and then days so still, bright and blue you can hardly stand the glory.
Wednesday was a bright and blue kind of day, and as I was out doing errands—mailing a book, stopping at the library, going to the grocery store—I brought my wee camera along. I knew I would find plenty to photograph.
I am a sucker for dried or wizened fruit on a bare tree, and I took this picture at the town’s Credit Union.
At the Post Office, I saw cattails, spikes of exploded fluff, by the railroad tracks.
Across the road from the post office, on Maranacook Lake, little shacks have been set up for ice fishing, and they have been clustered into a charming, impromptu village.
Then it was on to the public beach, just around the corner. So lovely, empty, and melancholy.
But on the ice, there were more shacks to brighten the mood.
And onward we head, toward the full moon of January, the Wolf Moon.