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Winter can be raw and ferocious or still and sparkling, but never bleak on the outer cape. The other night we could feel the house shake from the force of blizzard winds coming from the north across the pond, throwing ice against our cedar shake. Luckily, we only suffered a branch through a screen and our power held firm. We were far more fortunate than the vast majority of people out here in the blizzard of February 2013.

We drove to First Encounter Beach and found the road blocked. The large parking area was covered with storm surge slush chunked with the timber that had been decks and steps. It was low tide and the beach below the debris was swept clean, the snow mounded in a berm near the normal high tide line. The protective dune torn away to form a new divide and fringe for the beach.

At Nauset Light Beach on the Atlantic, the bottom of the stairs down to the beach are dangling. The escarpment has been further eroded as the ocean has its way with the land, continuously redefining where we may be. The light itself remains safe at a distance, for now.

Winter affords us much greater visibility to the natural world as those pesky leaves are mostly gone for the season. The drama on our pond is sometimes stark, but beautiful in its own way. A Red-tailed Hawk takes advantage of a Merganser frozen in the ice after failing to save itself; a Great Blue Heron makes off with his catch (stealth pays); a Kingfisher watches and waits.

Beachcombing in December has lots to offer. We found this whale vertebra just after high tide at First Encounter beach. It was about two feet from the water’s edge. The Cape is prime whale watching territory. We’d love to find a shark’s tooth.

What good is a great place for walking on beaches if you don’t have a dog? Momo is a chocolate lab puppy with a distinctive personality (the breeder called her Alvin). She loves the beach and the bike trail, but is still a bit shy with an abundance of puppy rambunctiousness and a fondness for cuddling on your lap.

Sea turtles are often trapped in Cape Cod Bay while trying to head south for the winter. When they become “cold stunned” and wash up on shore, volunteers find them on the beaches and start them on a human-aided journey south. Here, Amanda calls in a Kemp’s Ridley turtle to Mass Audubon for a pick-up from Breakwater Beach in Brewster.

Topping a dune at First Encounter looking towards Bee’s River, on the trail of a good scent.

Kyle drove up with his Grandmother to spend Christmas and New Years with us. This is Hemenway Landing looking out into Nauset Marsh.

Nauset Marsh lies behind Coast Guard beach on the Atlantic. You may be able to make out the waves crashing near the horizon. Most of the birds we see on our pond fly back and forth to the marsh. It’s very close. You often see people wading out from small boats for shellfish; yes, even in December.

Back towards Hemenway Landing from the Coast Guard station at Coast Guard beach, the following evening in late December.

Taking a run at low tide, towards dusk, Coast Guard beach.

Last minute requests, Christmas Eve.

The annual photo with cousin Katherine, on break from that au pair gig in Paris.

The first snow of the winter looks spectacular. 2013 here we come!

Sharp colors, crisp shadows, a slightly different perspective every day, that’s the Cape in autumn.

And, people are drawn to the ocean just to be there.

We have a new resident on our pond – a blue heron – who moved in just prior to Sandy.

But, it’s the colors of autumn on the pond that keep us looking.

For a mini-tour of the salt marshes between Coast Guard beach (at top) and the Town Cove in neighboring Orleans in early November, check this out.

Ever shorter days bring a different edge to the bay. It’s not much peopled. Birds brace themselves against the stiff wind as we pick through what the tide has left us: a dog tag, a silver charm, a Ticonderoga number two pencil (that looks new). The fisherman’s lean-to is still here on First Encounter Beach. Better still, a Davy Jones portrait washed ashore all ready-made.

While St. Petersburg remains an 18th century city at its core, attracting tourists with its beauty, Moscow is a bustling metropolis throwing off its dowdy Soviet past with massive development of impressive new buildings. Make no mistake, the storied past remains as a firmly rooted present; but, the city plows confidently into the future.

At the heart of the city are, of course, Red Square and the Kremlin, long misunderstood by us. A kremlin is a fortress. Many towns and cities have them, or remnants of them. It is “the” Kremlin that lies at the heart of this historic capital of the nation. The Kremlin houses the seat of government and the War Department, complete with thousands of cannons to commemorate the defeat of Napoleon in his attempt to take the city 200 years ago.

And, of course, “Red” Square is not a reference to communism or the Soviet era. “Red” is a reference to beauty. The red corner in a Russian home is where the family’s most beautiful possessions are displayed (such as an icon) and the head of the house sits. Red Square is, simply, beautiful (and aptly named).

Red Square is the home of St. Basil’s Cathedral, comprised of nine churches. And, it is not just Lenin who now rests on Red Square. Archangel Cathedral houses the remains of Ivan the Terrible.

Famous GUM department store also graces the square, with its three levels of arcades and restored sophistication.

Joseph Stalin had the “seven sisters,” modeled on New York City’s Empire State Building, built to show the world that Moscow was every bit as sophisticated as any other major world city. That finally seems to be true.

Making our way up the Volga towards Moscow, the side of the river was dotted with one beautiful Russian Orthodox church after another, their gold domes glinting in the sun. In the thousand year old town of Jaroslavl there was also a green velvet elephant and a Cinnabon store. We also had an intimate encounter with a refueling vessel. In even older Uglich, we went into the home of the engineer Tatiana and noticed the sign on her gate that needed no translation. She has an enormous garden that she tends herself and a very nice bathhouse, moss proving insulation between the logs.

Lots of churches seem to be built at the sites of assassinations, men’s choirs pop up near the exits of many churches, and tour busses have rest stops only where there are souvenirs for sale. Brides now come to pay respect on their wedding day to the fallen of World War Two in which Russia lost twenty million people. We couldn’t leave Russia, of course, without a photo of Lenin. Behind us is the Church of St. Demetrius on the Blood. As a son of Ivan the Terrible, the saint was a threat to Boris Godunov’s campaign to seize the throne and was likely assassinated on this spot by Godunov’s agents.

On our way to the Kirillov Belozersky Monastery, founded by St. Cyril in 1397, we motored past a village church flooded from construction of the Volga-Baltic canal and a beautiful convent. We have St. Cyril to blame, of course, for the Cyrillic alphabet. Otherwise, he seems to have been a pretty good guy. The monastery evolved into a very well fortified outpost in the 15th through 17th centuries.

We’re spending a lot of time cruising the waterways, as the distances are quite substantial. Making our way through the locks is always fascinating. We shared a ride down towards the level of the Rybinsk Reservoir at the Lock of Sheksna with another cruise ship.

Tiny Kizhi Island is the site of an open air museum of wooden architecture from the Lake Onega area. Continually under restoration, the most imposing structure is the Church of the Transfiguration. It’s the one with 22 domes. It’s neighbor the Church of the Intercession was open, as was a typical house of the region that was transported to the island for the museum. The second floor balconies allowed them to not only close the shutters against the winter weather, but to darken their sleeping rooms when there’s only three hours of almost night time in the summer. It was all quite impressive. It’s the abundance of fish and game that attracted Russians from the 15th century who were creating some distance from the regions whose economies were based in serfdom. The Church of the Transfiguration was built in 1713.

The hooded crows followed us from St. Petersburg. Oh, yes, and thanks to Buchmann for identifying those other birds as white wagtails (not to be confused with pied wagtails), also found only in Europe.

Could Buchmann or someone else identify our new acquaintance?

On our way once again, the Captain welcomed his passengers to the bridge. Our ship was built in East Germany in 1975 and began sailing under the name of Lenin’s wife. Times have changed.

That’s what we’d all like, isn’t it? Crossing Lake Ladoga at night, our ship was a fiendish 5 hour KGB torture session, complete with loud banging noises as something loose on the deck pounded against the railings, our cabin creaked, and we held tight as we rocked back and forth, as anything not nailed down did the same. We’ve been promised a better night of sailing tonight as the same wind conditions are not supposed to prevail heading north across Lake Onega. Our fingers are crossed.

Traveling through two locks lifted us higher into the countryside along the Svir River. It was a nice change from the sophisticated urban center of St. Petersburg.

Stopping by the small town of Mandrogy was authentic tourism based on the ancient Russian folklore invented in the 19th century. On a Monday in September, it was creepily empty, a feeling reinforced by the meeting of the gingerbread lady. The craftsmanship was, however, quite good. The architecture reminded us of the Native culture in Alaska. The gnome with the sign points to the public bath, an activity we passed on.

We’re on our way overnight to an island close to the Artic Circle. Hope it’s not too cold!

It depends on what one can afford, of course, but we’d all really like a place to get away for the summer. Peter the Great could afford a lot, more than most. And, naturally, his successors on the throne made certain improvements. Peterhof, Peter’s place in the country, is magnificent. So magnificent that you aren’t permitted to take photos inside (sorry).

Having learned shipbuilding in Amsterdam before he became Czar, Peter loved ships and canals and all things Dutch, and French, and German. So, despite the cold climate and abundance of ice from around November, Peter created a city criss-crossed by over 200 miles of canals and 320 bridges. It’s nice to take a canal ride on a sunny day, hoping it won’t rain.

Thanks to Buchmann for identifying the hooded crow from yesterday. They are a Eurasian bird that never makes it to North America. Now, can someone help us identify our fellow visitor to Peterhof?