There was a light dusting of snow yesterday, but it felt more like something to sprinkle on a six-year-old’s birthday cake than a true fastball thrown by Old Man Winter. There has been cold, with temperatures even dropping below zero, but mostly the season has given a quiet performance so far, more rocking chair than the roller coaster of snow of last year.

Yet it is deep January now, the time of year when the Island seems to grow smaller, with roads mostly empty and every face a familiar one. There are few surprises, unless you walk the beaches, where winter wash-ups continue to deposit creatures from afar. Earlier it was a coyote; this week it was a sturgeon.

January can be difficult, still a long way to go before the weather turns and the crowds return along with regular paychecks for the seasonal workforce. There is also the darkness to contend with, which can sneak up on even the hardiest soul, turning it cranky or much worse. Community suppers, held every night of the week at houses of worship around the Island, can help with a free meal and conversation. So does that walk on the beach.

And oddly enough, the night sky, all aglitter with diamonds, can beat back the darkness too. It is a paradox that stepping outside in the depth of night, breath nearly freezing solid, can help fortify a foundation from which to wrestle with winter. And yet the backdrop of the galaxies paint a perspective that swims right alongside a sturgeon sighting. When confronted with that type of enormity — ancient species or far off worlds billions of miles away — the leap to spring seems but a heartbeat away.