February has been a motley month. Outside, the days swing from winter snow, to pelting rain, to a golden, sun-infused, warm calm in a few hours. Back-and-forth, keeping us on our toes. 
Sunrises are working their way north across our hill horizon, but the transition to spring is erratic. 
We have ice on puddles some mornings, while in the background we are starting to hear the birds’ spring mating calls.
This bell-shaped piece of ice was hanging over a stream at the edge of a small waterfall.
Perhaps the best harbinger of spring, though, is the maple sap, which has started to flow.
In modern sap collection for maple syrup, tubes carry the sap out of the tree, to the sugar house. Ugly but efficient.
The Bohemian Waxwings have hung around for weeks, dwindling from enormous flocks to smaller groups of thirty or forty. 
At first, they were spooked if I even opened a door, but eventually they grew more comfortable with us and I was able to get closer for photos.
We took a road trip last week to the FEDCO warehouse, a little more than an hour away. FEDCO is a seed, tree, and garden supply cooperative that is one of Maine’s treasures. On the way home, we swung over to Unity, the little farm town that hosts the Common Ground fair, is next to Bryant’s museum, and has a sizable traditional Amish population (previous Unity posts, Finding Common Ground, and Bryant’s).
Now it has another attraction. A world-class chef, formerly at Chicago’s Charlie Trotter’s restaurant, left the high-pressure restaurant life, became Amish, and set up a charcuterie in the woods of Unity, with no-electricity, in the Amish way. His story has received considerable publicity lately (here’s a link to a great NPR piece amish deli) and, after driving down a rutted dirt lane, we found a long line inside the little store. People from all over were patiently waiting to buy sausage and cured meats, while watching what was kind of a show. This former chef, with a long beard and traditional Amish clothing, talked everyone up while he cut meat on fascinating non-electric slicers that looked like hundred-year-old relics. He was always moving, efficiently wrapping the meat and cheese in butcher paper with string pulled from overhead, while his young Amish assistant rang up purchases on an old-style cash register. We went home with some bacon, smoked pork loin, and smoked cheese. I can attest to its deliciousness. I am continually amazed by what Maine has to offer.
Smoked provolone.
February has been spring-planning time. Our (massively over-ambitious?) seed orders have arrived, we are gauging drainage and soil moisture to plan our orchard and garden bed lay outs. Likewise, we have been paying careful attention to winter sun and wind for locating our bee hive. We ordered the hive early and I happily spent two mornings constructed the frames that will hold the wax foundation for the bees to build their comb.
We will not be locating the hive in the spare bedroom.
Much more to come on the hive when we set it up for the bees’ arrival near the end of April.
Building the frames. I have mise en place for nails.
Our winter garden revealed a new side this month. It sprouted rocks and shells. 
When we moved here late last May, we could see some shells and unusual rocks peeking out from under the perennials. But only now, with the snow melted and last year’s greenery gone or flattened, is their loveliness revealed. 
Oyster, clam, mussel, and scallop shells are flanked by small collections of rocks with garnets, mica, rings, striations, and unusual shapes. 
They are beautiful against the dead winter leaves and stalks. Another unexpected treat from the former owners of this garden. 
Among the shells and rocks, some sprouts are emerging. Soon we will complete the final first year in this garden, seeing what bulbs will emerge.
A small lighthouse and bellhouse perch above. 
A woman was swept into the sea from these rocks the week before our visit. 
It was during a swell arising from the storm that dumped snow on most of the east coast, but swerved out to sea below Maine. The swell produced some towering waves and one of them took the woman right in. 
Fortunately, she was fished out with some injuries and hypothermia, but alive. 
and, when I turned to the water, there was a bank of shore clouds in beautiful, almost tubular row formations. 
Unfortunately, my picture-taking was cut short when I found my extra battery was dead. We’ll be back. 
After some time, with a great swoosh of wings, they all descend on a tree still covered with apples, where they noisily gorge on the likely fermented fruit and then wheel off again. 
Their post-feeding frenzy flights appear somewhat haphazard. Perhaps they are a little drunk. 
But they settle on a large tree again, compose themselves, and fly away in a neat formation again. 
At first I thought they were cedar waxwings and there may be a few in the flock. But most seem to be Bohemians. 
As a result, our February garden consists of empty seed pods,
olddogsnewtruck 