There is so much snow right now as compared to the last several years, and it feels a little overwhelming to get out there and shovel — again. The snow does make it feel extra wintry and somehow colder, even though having snow doesn’t necessarily indicate anything about the temperature. On a recent trip south on Interstate 95 in the late afternoon, I was struck by the blinding brightness of the light reflecting off of the expansive white surfaces surrounding the road. I was also struck by the paradox of feeling warmed by that bright light and the fact that that brightness was the result of ice and snow. This is the case for ice and snow — in some ways it warms and in some ways it cools. One of the most dramatic examples of this is along the coast and in the ocean.

Last week, I wrote about seal nostrils and their unique structure that allows them to quickly breath out and back in when coming to the surface from under the ice. Seals are well-equipped in many ways to live under the ice in frosty water in addition to their impressive nostrils. Their thick layers of blubber, for example, provide critical insulation for their bodies. Perhaps counterintuitive is the fact that the layer of ice and snow also acts like a layer of blubber — for the entire ocean beneath it. Were it not for this layer, the water underneath would be rapidly cooled by the air above it, which can get much colder than the ocean in the wintertime.

Although I previously wrote about seals needing to find a hole in the ice to come up to breathe, there are actually spaces of air under the ice where marine mammals can breathe. That air provides yet another layer of insulation. Think of the fluffy feathers inside a down coat that, when fluffed, trap a lot of air between them. The air is what keeps you warm inside your coat. This always seems strange to me — the reversal of water temperatures from being chilly in the summer when the air is hot and then warmer than the air in the winter when the air is frigid. But it is this consistency in temperature that allows so much life to persist in the ocean throughout the seasons. The ice coverage is also important for its ability to protect habitat, including Brunswick’s intertidal and its valuable shellfish resources. Without the cover of ice, that habitat and the marine life it supports are exposed to dangerously cold temperatures.

The bright winter sunlight is a different piece of the puzzle. Regardless of the air temperature, when the sun is out, it always feels warmer. It’s a little like having a fire going in a fireplace that might not put out heat but makes you feel cozier nonetheless. Also like standing right next to a fire, when standing right in that bright sunlight, you can feel its warmth. But the actual result of the reflection of the light is to keep the Earth cooler. I recently heard a story about the melting of glaciers being accelerated once the dark earth underneath has been exposed. Its darker color absorbs more of the sun’s heat rather than reflects it. There is the conundrum: The ice keeps the ocean underneath warmer but keeps the Earth cooler.

As for humans, we have adapted in our own ways to the bright winter light. Think of the arctic explorers that wore special ice goggles that blocked out all of the light with the exception of a tiny horizontal slit designed to let just enough light in. We don’t typically wear ice goggles here in Maine but, on a particularly windy day earlier this week, I did see a woman cross the ice rink on the town mall wearing a scarf pulled up over her nose and tucked under a pair of goggles. As I ducked my head down and pushed into the biting wind, I was envious.

While my shoulders are still a little sore from shoveling, I am still glad for the snow, for what feels like a real winter and all that that entails. I’m glad for the paradoxical warming and cooling powers of the ice and snow and what they do for the environments they cover. And I’m grateful for the bright light that makes it all at least feel a little warmer as it scatters and shines off the expanses of white.

Susan Olcott is the director of strategic partnerships at Maine Coast Fishermen’s Association.