Spring is in the Air – and Some Normalcy Too
Could it be that winter has finally relinquished its bitter hold?
The thought presents a number of conflicting emotions in me, but change always blows straight into the face of time, and so it is, with the passing of seasons, as spring approaches.
As if on cue, the ever-restless winds of March have assailed the coast of Maine, and in the process, the sturdy drafts have carried upon their shoulders heavy doses of rain and warmer air temperatures that have all but washed away the last remaining vestiges of winter about the terrain.
Such a sudden transition, though necessary to usher in the green blossoms of spring, is anything but pretty. The once thick snow-pack has rapidly disappeared, and in its wake, we have found ourselves saying goodbye to winter and hello to the “mud season” in a single breath.
With the trees still bare, the grass still brown – and sticky mud oozing with water on the paths we tread upon, I have found myself gazing seaward of late in search of scenes that bring joy to the senses as winter yields to spring.
No matter the season, one can always count on the splendor of sunset to offer up a picture-perfect canvas of color, even when the landscape is in a drab mood, moping in its puddles.
While seeking to admire dusk’s show of pastels in the sky, I also noticed that with the blanket of white’s disappearance, one could once again view the full spectrum of tradition that speaks to the pride of our region’s working harbors.
No longer are stacked lobster traps, clusters of colored buoys and other appendages of the lobster and fishing trade burdened by the grip of snow and ice along the wharves.
Even the lobster boats themselves find their windshields free of the icy glaze that was permitted to squat upon the surface while Jack Frost enjoyed an extended stay.
As for the beauty of the March sunsets, the experiences at dusk have not disappointed, even though collaborative factors, like friendly clouds that reflect the sun’s smile and grandeur across the sky, have been scarce of late.
In some ways, if there is such a term, you might say the setting sun and its stage on the western horizon, has been “normal” or tempered in its dashing brilliance over the past couple of weeks.
Even when the sea is agitated and dark cloudbanks have taken up residence along the point where water and clouds seemingly touch, the sun has resisted dousing the billowing vapor with its radiance.
A couple evenings ago, as my wife Ann, our three children and I patiently waited for the sun to slip behind the silhouette of islands off Marshall Point near Port Clyde, an unsettled sea grappled for our attention.
There was a mist holding court over the water in the distance and a stiff southwest breeze intent on delivering a good swell to shore.
Upon reaching the rocky edge, the swells mustered one last moment of energy as they rushed the tidal area in what seemed like a frothy anger before retreating once again. I marveled to myself that their “bark was stronger than their bite,” especially against the immovable ledges that the staggered sets encroached upon.
All the while, a touch of winter was still clinging to the air, which spawned wind chills around the freezing mark by dusk. The “real feel” of the air eventually coaxed the kids to seek the comfort of the car not long after the sun bid us adieu.
In the end, the sunset ended up being, well – “normal” once again, having its emitting radiance somewhat diffused by a looming cloud bank that lacked a jovial personality. The scene was contenting to observe nonetheless, but I walked away from the moment with something more.
As I contemplated another “normal” seaside experience, I reminded myself of the beauty found in this type of natural simplicity.
In today’s fast-paced, ever-changing world, we are inundated by drama and hype – and the perceived need of both to vie for our attention or to make things more interesting in our lives.
Lost in this “sea” of heightened emotion is the notion of normalcy, which provides a sense of place and keeps us well-rooted in the everyday aspects of life that matter most and sweeten in memory with the passage of time.
Normalcy is one of life’s elusive secrets, but when found and appreciated, offers a wealth of contentment for the heart and mind. May we all enjoy healthy doses of normalcy here and there, and remember to bask in its simple beauty!
Joan Jellison says
Ah, well done Bob. I can almost smell the salt in the air. Thank you once again. My grandfather grew up on Whitehead and his cousins on Southern Island so they went to Port Clyde often back in the olden days and so is a favorite haunt of mine. The working harbors remind me of the people I come from. Thanks!
Laura Davis says
Thanks for sharing that, we do hope winter has relinquished its bitter cold. Eric and I were thinking of job searching here in Aruba! Warm, sunny, beautiful breeze and a nice view of the California Lighthouse from the beach.
Deedee conover says
You create a beautiful image Bob…
Mary Fiske says
Beautiful photos and article. I am missing our island (Islesboro) house already. My Maine roots are very deep – my ancestors helped settle the island in the early 1700’s, and no place is as special to me as the island and the original house. Family summers are spent there. Plus Islesboro has a beautiful lighthouse – Grindle Point.
Claire Perry says
Beautifuly said. I love MAINE. The last photo appears to be…ummmmm…Owls Head??
Al Smith says
Nice work Bob (and Ann-Marie). It is nice to know that the seasons are filling Maine with the beauty that I know…….that of the summer season.
Al
Norman Poindexter says
LOOKS LIKE SPRING IS SPRINGING (WARM !)
Lou Brooks says
The snow is gone and the suns light looks a litttle warmer! Spring is in the air and will arrive on March 20th only 4 days away!
Your pictures show the change of season with the loss of all the snow in your picutres! Soon the flowers and trees will sprout and your pictures will have a backdrop! Again very nice pictures! Thanks for sharing them!
Marilyn says
Ann and Bob thank you.
barrett says
BOB, ONE OF YOUR BEST. I OPENED THIS EMAIL ON A RAINY, COLD APRIL MONDAY MORNING (THE 11TH). WHAT A CHEERFUL EYE OPENER. IT MAKES ME THINK, AS I LOOK AT THE DOWNPOUR OUT THE WINDOW OF MY OFFICE, “THIS TOO SHALL PASS.” THANKS, AGAIN.