The heavy snowfalls are still to come, but the powderings to-date have collected and stayed, covering wood and field, fairway and river edge in white.
The artic air has swung low, settling in along the coast of Maine, forcing the Atlantic Ocean to freeze at her tidelines; -11 degrees without a wind chill factored in. A cold that bites bare skin, especially hands at work trying to hold steady the metal bodies of cameras and the steel barrels around glass lenses. I shiver in the early morning air trying to compose and capture my subjects in the clean, stark white light of this season.
"Mercy" is not a word that winter knows...if at all. And least not in January along the coast of Maine.
