February 28: Red

Cardinal flying in the fog
on a bleak afternoon.
There is yet color in this world.

February 27: Hunger Moon

The February full moon of two days ago was referred to by some native tribes as the Snow Moon or the Hunger Moon. Hunger Moon especially makes sense, because this is about the point of winter when it gets harder for creatures living off the land to find food and stave off the seemingly ceaseless cold and snow.

In the snow under my feeders I noticed today tracks of mice, squirrels, and crows gleaning the seeds that the messy Blue Jays spilled. Taking what they can get. Many of us feel a certain hunger for something intangible this time of year, that restlessness for spring to begin to regain control of the landscape again, a renewal of faith in the cycle of seasons. As the effects of global climate change manifest themselves more dramatically, we're going to need that faith more than ever in days to come.

Wind howling,
tracks in the snow.
Dark hunger of need.

February 26: Last night, Full Moon

Full moon casts
long shadows
across the deep snow.

February 25: Morning shoveling

The weekend's snow storm did not extinguish the ardor of some birds, as I heard this morning while shoveling out the path to my office. A strange contrast, to be standing in shin-deep snow while chickadees are singing songs more appropriate to spring. The blue sky perhaps served as an aphrodisiac.

Chickadee's love song
as I begin to shovel
through deep snow.

February 24: Curling

We spent several hours at the Belfast Curling Club today learning how to curl. Our instruction barely scratched the surface, because curling is much more challenging both physically and strategically than we'd ever imagined. But eight of us had a lot of fun sliding ourselves and the stones around on the ice, furiously sweeping, directing, and cheering each other on.

Learning how it's done

Learning how to sweep

Stones and ice--
simple tools for a complex game.
Laughter also essential.

February 23: Cheese

At dinner at Fromviandoux, a recent addition to Camden's restaurant scene, we shared a cheese plate with another couple. I don't remember what two of the three cheeses were, because I fell in love with one of them at first bite: Lakin's Gorges Prix de Diane, a creamy soft, Brie-like cheese made locally from organic cow's milk.

The Lakin's Gorges website describes it like this: "A divine, bloomy rind cheese with a velvety white rind and a pate of pale yellow that darkens to rich yellow and gets more runny near the rind as it ages. A bouquet of milk and hints of citrus."

Bouquet of milk
blooms on the tongue--
dreamy creaminess.

Yes, apparently even cheese can be sensual...

February 22: Sushi

Back at Suzuki's tonight for the annual family celebration of my dad's and my birthdays, which are three days apart. Much hot sake was enjoyed, along with dumplings, edamame, and various forms of raw fish with rice.

Uni is sea urchin roe, a seasonal delicacy fresh from local waters.

Intimacy of uni--
mouthful of tears,
mouthful of our bay.

February 21: Prayer flags

Ripped down by wind
prayer flags hang inside,
silenced yet still bright.

February 20: Birthday Robins

Some years on my birthday I've tried to see the number of species that equal my age. The older I get, the less easy it has been to approach this goal--especially given that my birthday falls during a time of year when it's not easy to find 20 species, let alone a number in the high 40s. Today I didn't even try.

But I did experience a cool bird moment. My friend Brian and I hiked up Beech Hill in Rockport and spent the entire walk virtually surrounded by robins. We first noticed a big cluster of them--we counted close to 50--feeding in a patch of sumacs. Then when we got to the stone hut at the summit, we observed them in the field below us which the wind had swept clear of snow, carrying on that "walking and listening" thing that they do in our yards in the spring and summer. Granted some patches of ground were soft and had clearly thawed, but there couldn't have been much in the way of worms to be found.

As we walked back down the hill, we were in a sense following the flock as they flew around us to a lower, cleared field, clucking and making soft trilling sounds. We noticed a tight cluster of about a dozen huddled together under a trailhead kiosk, kicking at piles of dead leaves. I'm sure they were getting lucky finding caterpillars and grubs that seek winter shelter among the leaf litter. As we approached this kinetic flock, it circled around and flew back up the hill to renew its progression through the fields and wooded edges.

American Robin perched on remnants of the historic stone gate at Beech Hill, Rockport.  Photo by Brian Willson.

Winter robins' breasts so red
in the barren fields.
I think of my heart.

February 19: Elephants

My mom took my two young nieces and I to Hope Elephants this morning to see Rosie and Opal, a pair of beautiful old circus elephants who have been retired to a farm here in coastal Maine to be given a unique form of water therapy and rehabilitation for joint issues. They are 41 and 43 respectively, and their wrinkled heads and and wide-open, intense eyes lent them the full wisdom of age. The educator at the farm told us that an elephant is one of the few animals that can recognize itself in the mirror. Maybe because my birthday's coming up, I couldn't help but wonder if they look older to themselves now than they used to.

Watching two old elephants--
tomorrow I will be older
than either of them.

February 18: More wind

Wind so fierce, so loud,
all creative thoughts
are blown away.