I’ve heard it more than once in the last week: “Well, the days are getting longer.”

That’s reassuring even though the temperature has been wildly swinging between single digits and an almost balmy 45 degrees and the sun drops below the horizon soon after 4 p.m. There’s no other way to look at it: it’s winter regardless of reports of global warming.

I’m not complaining as long as the furnace keeps running [I don’t dare think of what the gas bill might be], the steam-filled pipes keep clanking and the radiators pump out the heat.

I was intently going through my post-Christmas emails Friday morning when Carol suggested I might want to look out at the Bay. My first thought was I would see a layer of ice, after all the temperatures had dropped into the teens overnight. But no. A flock of Brant geese patrolled the shoreline, diving occasionally to feed on seaweed, and beyond them the clear sky was reflected in tranquil waters. 

There was more out there. Diehard quahoggers with their boats anchored were waiting for 8 a.m., when DEM regulations would allow limited harvesting of quahogs in the Providence River. They would have three hours to harvest the rich beds that first opened three years ago after being closed for more than 70 years.

Two developments prompted the opening: Foremost were efforts to clean up bay waters with the excavation of sub-terrain reservoirs enabling the Narragansett Bay Commission to capture and treat stormwater that would otherwise push raw sewage into the river. Then there was the decline of shellfish at regular fishing grounds.

Other than the temperature, this seemed like a beautiful day to be outside, and raking in the littlenecks to help quahoggers pay for home heating bills would be a Christmas bonus.

So, there was a bright side to the frigid conditions if you want to look at it that way.

I was reminded of my father decades ago when he decided it would be fun to celebrate Christmas in upstate New York. The family was excited. We’d got to cut down a tree in the woods [it was scraggly but had long green needles] and gather around the fireplace. The weather was nasty, but the windblown snow gave it a feeling of adventure and the snuggly feeling inside once we arrived.

My parents loved wine with dinner, so choosing a gift was not difficult. I brought along a case of evenly divided red and white wines. So as not to spoil the surprise and with temperatures hovering near 25, I left the case in the trunk of the car. Overnight the temp dropped to minus 25. The radiators banged all night as did the nearby lake as it froze.

The morning was clear and still. The snow was crisp. It was deceiving. I reached for the car door handle with my ungloved hand. It instantly froze to the handle. Once free I opened the trunk to bring in the wine. The cardboard box was rumpled where frozen wine had pushed corks free. The wine was mush.

Deflated, I carried the case in.

My father looked puzzled until I explained this was my Christmas gift. He brightened.

“You know,” he said. “Let’s drink it as soon as it thaws.”

On the bay, looking at the quahoggers, I figured there had to be a bright side to being out there.

I called Jody King, whose boat I’d spotted in front of the house. He hoped for some wind. He had two sails up that would have given him some added torque. The sails flopped in the dead calm. It was the last day the quahog-rich Providence River would be open until well into the New Year. Jody harvested half of what he had expected to catch. He wasn’t down. That’s the way things work out.

I told him the wine story.

Was the glass half full or half empty?

He said it was what it was.

And I reminded him it was cold, but not cold enough to freeze wine. There was a bright side.