Now that was a blizzard. Born and raised in the Northeast, I have seen my share of snowstorms. The snow, the wind, the cold . . . it’s all part of the deal. However, it was the aftermath of this storm that took me by surprise. Welcome to the tundra . . .
As I walked around my quaint seaside town this morning, I could not get over the amount of snow that was everywhere. Brick sidewalks had completely disappeared, roads became narrow one-way streets, and enormous snowbanks were hiding houses.
Slowly people are starting to dig out, and unleashing great pops of color against the massive blanket of white. From mailboxes . . .
to awnings . . . Beautiful, bright color was ready to be seen.
As I carefully made my way down to the harbor, I was taken back by the damage of the rough seas. Large crashing waves left their mark during the high tides, and showed just how strong they really are.
These waves occurred when temps were awfully frigid, and the salt ocean water actually froze on contact. The result was quite dramatic and incredibly beautiful.
Thousands of large icicles hung along the harbor fence, creating the most spectacular boarder to the water view. They sparkled in the morning sun, and greatly added to the beauty of the winter landscape.
Despite the severity of Juno, I was happy to see my little historic town was able to hold it’s own. A town filled with 300 year old antique homes, Revolutionary War battle-sites, and a strong fishing history.
A town also with a strong sense of community. During my walk, there were neighbors helping neighbors, and friends helping friends. Together we are getting our town up and running again. A team effort . . . all while leaving some time to have a little fun!