I don't know why, but when it snows I feel like writing something....

Today is no exception.  I never get tired of it.  Whitehead Island is obscured, there's a shrimp trawler going by and a lone, white, lobster buoy bobbing haphazardly in the waves.  Last week, on a sunny afternoon, I went up to my friend Ross's attic.  Not only is he my favorite antique dealer in Maine, but he makes things when noone is in the shop.  Here's a little view into his studio........