[Journal for December 27, 2013; Potts Point, Harpswell Maine]. Dallas and I are here in Harpswell Maine to attend Ruthie Weeks’ annual party. An hour or so before sunset, a group of us take a walk from Ruthie’s house on Harpswell Neck Road to Potts Point, a narrow strip of land that juts out into Casco Bay. The day is mostly clear. Temperatures are in the mid-twenties. About a foot of snow lies on the ground, but it is patchy, having been sculpted by the wind into thicker drifts and bare spots.

The tide is low and many rock ledges are exposed along the shore. The native rock is phyllite or low grade schist, with near vertical foliation. Many granite boulders lay scattered about, erratic brought southward by the glaciers of the Ice Age. The snow highlights all the rocks, making them seem blacker than they might otherwise appear. The sea is beginning to look rather purple as the daylight fades.

We stand for a while at the point, looking out across the water towards neighboring islands. The water on the west side is Merriconeag Sound; in it sits Pinkham Island with its tiny, solitary cabin and beyond it is Baileys Island, which forms the end of another, adjacent peninsula. To the east is Potts Harbor and to the south is Haskell Island, with its gazebo.

The sun is close to setting as we return. About an hour.