Jersey Shore Magazine

j e r s e y s h o r e • F A L L / H O L I D A Y 2 0 2 2 59 N David Turton Photography Holly Bush, Sandy Hook, January 2002. Paul Scharff The Shore February is the month we begin to weary of winter and long for spring. Indians of the northeast, who kept track of the months by watching the moon, called it the "Full Hunger Moon" because heavy snows prevented good hunting. This is the month of the Presidents; the easily recognizable silhouettes of Lincoln and Washington adorn the hallways in every school building. The heart of this shortest yet seemingly longest month is Valentine's Day. March has earned its reputation of roaring in with wind and snow and baa-ing out with daffodils and crocuses. The snow sinks lower and lower, leaving patch- es of white here and there in the brown grass. With the softening of the ground, the worms come to the surface. Robins running and hopping in the grass return and feed. Willow buds turn yellow and swell, the strong smell of fresh earth fills the air. November. Autumn's beauty has faded. Political leaflets on the table pile up like leaves on the streets, until some- one sweeps them away. It's time for elections and football games. On Veterans Day, time to remember soldiers of past wars. The wood is split and stacked, the pantry filled. On Thanksgiving, rooms fill with the aromas of turkey and pumpkin pie. Along the boardwalk, stands and arcades are boarded up. Gulls and crabs retake the beach. The first snowfall usually comes in December. Hanukkah is celebrated this month, as the menorah is lit one branch at a time. People yearn for a white Christmas—a rarity—as families get together. Santa Clauses appear to be every- where, along with wreathes, poinsettias, and bells. The tree is picked out, brought home, and placed in the corner—a triangle of green in mid-winter. Mistletoe hangs in door- ways, and celebration hangs in the carols that chorus the night with white breath. January—named after the Roman god Janus, whose two bearded faces look in opposite directions—is an appropriate name for the month in which people reflect on the past but look toward the future. It is a month of bare branches, red noses, piercing cold, sharp stars, and white earth. The fingers of jetties are shrouded in sea smoke, and there is an otherworldliness about the beach with its desolate lunar landscape. continued on page 60

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