The beauty of November
After the pretty days of September and October, November has a different kind of beauty. The angle of the sun is noticeably lower, infusing afternoon light with the glow of brushed pewter. It is the kind of sky that gives bare trees a crisp outline and predicts approaching snow and colder weather. Next to March, November is usually windiest month of the year.
So far, we’ve managed to escape the strong winds, but last year at this time was a different story. When the remnants of Hurricane Noel came through the Cranberry Isles as a strong “northeaster” on November 3, 2007, David Bunker recorded a wind gust of 101 mph before his power went out. Trees came down on both islands causing quite a few homes to lose power. People who planned to leave the island on Saturday afternoon or Sunday were stranded until Monday as the mailboat captain canceled trips after midday on Saturday.
The Islesford Neighborhood House Association decided to go ahead with their community supper on Saturday night. The only change in plans for the meal of roast turkey and pot luck side dishes was to have everyone bring their own plates and silverware so they could take them home to wash if the power went out. Everyone brought flashlights, too, in anticipation of losing electricity. By Sunday morning the power was out in several houses on Great Cranberry and Islesford. Bangor Hydro reported over 3,000 customers without power in Hancock County, so we knew that our little islands would wait until Monday, at best, before our electricity was restored. The sea was calm enough for Beal and Bunker to barge a truck from the mainland to make repairs on both islands by late Monday afternoon. Some of us are lucky to have generators, but the amount of power they supply is limited and they are very noisy. (Think of a lawnmower engine running at full blast.) It helps to turn them off for a while to get a break from the noise and to save fuel.
The quantity of sounds at this time of year is diminished. The luster of the fall foliage has rusted to brown and few leaves remain on the trees to rustle when the wind blows. Crows are the only songbirds of the early morning now, with chickadees and nuthatches chattering at feeders after the sun is up. We are more apt to hear the rumble of boat engines during the day than automobiles; though the steady noise of a post-storm sea reminds this former city dweller of distant highway traffic. It is duck hunting and deer hunting season, so occasionally a shotgun is heard. There are almost as many bow hunters on the island as those who hunt with guns, so a successful hunt can be quite quiet.
One year, as part of a study of lobsters at the Islesford School, students from the older class went out into the community to interview fishing families. Samantha Krasnow asked me what it was like to get up early and make Bruce’s breakfast before he goes fishing. “She doesn’t!” he answered in the background. I might be breaking from tradition, but I do not make my husband’s breakfast or lunch before he goes out fishing. I do make sure to have a variety of food in the house, to have the wood stove going and to have dinner well under way when he comes home late in the afternoon; but in the morning I stay out of his way.
At 5 a.m. on a mid-November day, Bruce leaves the house to start his day of lobstering. As is our habit, he wakes me to say goodbye and tell me when he plans to be back. Usually I go back to sleep, but on this day I cannot.
About the time he is picking up his sternman, I am still wide awake, so I rise in anonymous solidarity with his fishing schedule to go for a walk while it is still dark. The thumbnail moon has already set, but Venus is a bright spot in the pre dawn sky.
As I walk through town a rooster crows and only a few houses have lights on. Puddles hold the thinnest layer of ice and there is a hint of frost across the town field. All of the activity is taking place in the harbor with boat engines starting and running lights tracing their passage as they head out to haul traps. I think of my friend Georgie, on Great Cranberry, who is an early riser with a view of the Islesford harbor across the water. She often watches the first truck lights coming down the main road and the progression of lights as they go on at the Fishermen’s Co-op, and then on the boats. The clouds this morning have incredible lines of dark reds and pinks which will fade as the sun gets closer to cresting the horizon.
The sunrises and sunsets are spectacular at this time of year, but they bracket days that are growing shorter. Fishermen are under pressure to make the most of few available hours of daylight. Bruce’s comment about the wonderful quality of light that I love at this time of year: “It creates a wicked glare on the water making it hard to find buoys. It’s miserable!” November’s beauty is in the eye of the beholder.