Or we could have called this, “Ricocheting Through the Seasons”. For two glorious weeks I was jettisoned into fall;
maple and aspen trees aglow, blue skies with scudding white and gray clouds, crisp
at night, but lovely by day. I truly
lucked out, for these were some of the warmer days that my daughter said they
had had in Maine in awhile. We were able
to pick apples from an orchard and chose a pumpkin growing in the field rather
than one at the supermarket; all nostalgically wonderful in my book.
I also got to the Cape, even if only for a day. The swallows were no where to be found, but
the river of bayberry seeds spread over the dunes showed that they had been
there and had eaten well. My friend,
newly transplanted in Rhode Island, treated me to a delightful afternoon of
watching gulls smash quahogs on the pavement.
Amazed us how fruitful the waters were. No sooner had they snatched a clam, seemingly
from the water underneath them, than another gull would come along and be
successful too- a clam soup of a bay.
Most amusing was watching a younger gull that didn’t quite
seem to get the physics of it; that in order for the clam to crack open, it
really had to drop it from a height. It kept dropping it on rocks without
flying up first, which took about a zillion drops to get the desired
result. Then it finally figured out to
fly up with the clam in its beak, but forgot to drop it, and would settle back
on the pavement and drop it again, from about 4”. Perhaps not the brightest gull in the flock
but then it was persistent, if nothing else, and we did see it finally eat
some.
In Maine, it was all grandchildren, all the time; singing
while pushing swings, reading truck book after truck book, rocking and walking
a 4 month old baby. On the Columbus Day
weekend we got to hike Blueberry Hill, which affords a panoramic view of the
bays and islands around this particular peninsula in ME. This sort of view of
distant curved bays and inlets peppered with pine- covered islands is typical
of the Maine coast. So beautiful, making me sadly wish again that we had stayed
put on the Cape, a mere 5 hours from our grandchildren. Sigh.
With multiple adults we were able to can applesauce and
apple butter, something that is such an annual ritual for our family. Back in Texas I bought about 20 lbs. of
apples from the store but they weren’t nearly as juicy as the varieties we
usually use. Still, it is something to
try and continue the fall feeling here.
It’s been in the mid-80’s since I returned so all that momentum built up
in ME feeling that the holiday season is upon us has stalled a bit here, and
very badly needs to be restarted. Two
years in and I still remain a seasonally-activated person. It seems I am incapable of thinking Christmas
thoughts or even Thanksgiving ones when it is in the 80’s. Not good news to those who are the recipient
of holiday giving.
And as part of that seasonal ricochet, butterflies have
increased while I was gone. Queens and a
few Monarchs settle on the blooming blue-mist flowers, and those amusing
American Snouts are crossing my path with regularity again.
Acorns are raining
down, clattering on roofs and deck, the squirrels will be well set this
“winter” it seems. So, give me another
week or so to get my Texas legs under me again and write about the happenings
here. And with luck, in a few weeks
really, I will be headed back for more ricocheting if we get to spend Christmas
in Maine again. Meanwhile, may you all
know what month you are in and be acting accordingly.
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