River on Fire: York Harbor, Maine

Ten degrees farrenheit. Minus twelve degrees celcius. Whichever measurement of temperature you prefer, it doesn't require many digits. It's cold.

Here in New England, cold isn't a stranger. It's practically a live-in companion. She arrives in November, lugging a large bag for an extended stay. She moves in, spreads out, and is basically running the place for the next six months.

We've had an arguably mild winter so far here in Maine, but we have had our moments, and today was one of them. Oh, it's not as bad as it could be. Perhaps not as harsh as it should be. But today? Yeah. It's cold.

And when it really gets cold? Well, the salt-water rivers and the seas burn.

Too salty to freeze. Too cold not to thrust what little heat the water holds up into the atmosphere. Sea smoke they call it when it happens in the ocean. Smoke on the Water we call it when the estuaries and salt-water rivers send plumes of thick, white steam upwards into the friged air.

It's beautiful. Mystical.

It's damn cold.

It's dawn over the York River.

As my SUV passes over the old wooden bridge on my way to work, I pause to snap a few photos. Somewhat reluctantly, but in the name of Steemit, I roll down my window, lean across the passenger seat, and let my iPhone rip.

One picture. Two. Ok. That's enough. Have I mentioned that it's cold?

The science says seasmoke is formed when cold air passes over warmer, moist air resting just above the water's surface. The warmer air is cooled past the dew point, and thus condenses upwards into the atmosphere. The result is a nearly impenetrable fog that dances across the surface.

Mother Nature, I think, has a wonderful sense of humor to make something so cold and yet so captivating...

Cheers!