Yes We Have No Bananas

This was a wharf just down the hill from my place--it used to extend to the land, but the middle section washed away last Wednesday.

I didn't finish this week's post. I took a tree limb in the face while cutting a tree from one of our series of gales and got a few stitches out of it. But in typical and wonderful downeast fashion, the local village husband-wife medical team stitched me up on the kitchen floor then fed me scallops.

We had two more major storms this past week, one with hurricane-force winds. My cabin is on a ridge at the end of the peninsula, facing southeast--where the bulk of the winds have been coming from, blasting in over the mouth of the Bay of Fundy.

This was a road leading to a beach: both the beach and the road--and the concrete retaining wall--washed away.

A conservative guess would be 75 trees down around my place from this winter's series of wind storms out of the south. It reminds me of avalanche paths in Montana. Here the trees snap and break and fall as the ground lifts and buckles under the levering action of the root systems--not much soil here, all ledge, so the roots are shallow and weak. The ground looks like something from a Hollywood earthquake scene.

The last picture is a spruce that was leaning toward my house; I had to rope it off during the storm. I cut it down the following day--notice the heart rot. That's my well next to it.

A heartrot spruce and my well.