Frozen windowpane
Snow, sleet, ice.
A fly suns herself.

We have just come through 36 hours of a serious nor’easter here on Vinalhaven. And although the wind is calm and the sun shines thinly through the clouds today, we still have no internet or telephone and only intermittent power. In an instant autumn became winter.
When I went to sleep Saturday night, a light rain and a gusty wind made the two large maples in front of my house swoosh and sway. The maples were still full of beautiful leaves–like full heads of hair–in shades of red, orange and yellow.
By Sunday morning it was a white world. The maples were going bald. Snow fell sideways, mixed with sleet, and wind howled and moaned through the trees and around the chimney. It was hard to hear yourself talk, even inside the house. Outside, it was deafening. When the lights went out midday, I climbed upstairs to bed, cuddling with my cat, under the down quilt, trying to stay warm. I was only moderately successful, but Penney slept soundly.
With power and communication now restored, I feel a little disoriented–melancholy, although the sun is shining brightly. Being less insulated from the natural world was, in its way, nurturing. I think I miss the howling wind and freezing sleet. I know that I miss the time I spent apart from the world’s demands. The isolation and the quiet worked to heal, and to nurture my weary spirit.