As Summer waves farewell. . .

Nothing says fall is coming like an explosion of mushrooms. With the much anticipated late summer rains, they are everywhere, and of such varying shapes and sizes and colors. John took a photo of this image just down our hillside. Never is the role of fallen trees clearer.

Fall planting is, for me, another harbinger of, well, Fall. I looked extensively for a "columnar deciduous tree" for this south-facing space next to our bedroom deck. Oye. A columnar beech was suggested, but I've had experience with those, and they burn easily.

We lost one at the Harmony house after many years, and that was only an eastern exposure. So. When I found out that there's a columnar plum, called Crimson Point, I went for it. It was shipped from Oregon, and arrived in great condition. I planted it the day we received it, and here she is. We've named her Nicole, in honor of another tall redhead. Her leaves have yet to regain total turgidity, so I'm a little worried, but it's also fall, with shortening days and cool nights, so maybe she's just biding her time. I'm hoping that she's putting out roots, and pouring carbohydrates into them as fast as she can, because she'll need to survive some cold temperatures. So now we have Nicole (the Crimson Point Plum) and Olivia, the Cornus kousa. Such a wonderful family we're building.

Along those lines, I sighted a place in the yard where we could plant either a Dawn Redwood (Meta-sequoia gyptostroboides) or a Linden (also called American Basswood; Tilia Americana). I love both trees, but the Linden will be more cold hardy, and the smell of the early summer flowers are highly motivating for me. The Dawn Redwood would be more of a statement tree. . .a living fossil, unusual leaves and form. . .but that all smells of snobbery, no? Well, probably not. Still. I'm leaning toward the linden.

On a completely unrelated note, we traveled to Castine for a day, in part to see this bridge. . .it crosses the Penobscot River, and is really an interesting structure. It has an observatory in the top of one of the support structures, and John guessed that you can see the Penobscot river all the way to the sea from there. We didn't go up in it, because we had Jasper with us. Instead, we opted for a picnic on the very lovely grounds. However. It was the shortest lived picnic in our history. The mosquitos were fierce! All three of us ran back to the car, where we picnicked inside, downing a half beer each (yes, that's where we are these days) and enjoyed our lunch from the inside. Very unlike us, but needs must.

We had hoped to have lunch on a patio somewhere in Castine, but there was none to be had. Patios, that is. Castine is still suffering greatly from the fallout of the pandemic. It was a little bit sad, though clearly a beautiful town. . which also is home to the Maine Maritime academy.

Fall is definitely upon us. The nights are cool and the days are perfect. . . 60's and low 70's. I pulled out the last of the tomatoes yesterday, and the last produce (eggplant and herbs) will be pulled just before our first frost. . .which is not far off. 

Our first year in Maine has been wonderful, in spite of some disappointments, which were far outnumbered by pleasant surprises. In the coming year, we need to explore more. And we should be ready to do so. The house is just about up to snuff, if not perfect, and there are so many things to see here.
 

Too Much is Enough

Harvest, 6 September

That's what my dad used to say when we had misbehaved for longer than usual. Yesterday, I picked the single good sized eggplant that survived the scourge of the ground hog. But even after cool weather and a day of rain, the tomatoes continue to bear with little sign of letting up. And yes. That is an apple in there. It had fallen to the ground, so I snatched it up and bit into it. The texture is softening a bit, but it needs a little more ripening. It's still tart, but not suck-all-of-the-juice-out-of-your-mouth tart. Pleasantly tart. Probably perfect for an apple pie or tart? Hmm. 

Apples. . . McIntosh, methinks?

And I do remember this time of year from all of my other harvest years. I'm ready for the tomato influx to end. We have enough sauce, enough canned tomatoes, enough frozen green beans. Enough jam (though I'm still thinking about finding some PYO raspberries before it's too late. . .).
 

More apples

My spring-planted raspberries have grown well, but a few of them are loaded with spider mites. Ugh. I had hoped to avoid spraying anything on them at all, but purchased some horticultural oil to treat them. They're setting flower buds deep in their stems, and trying to send photosynthates to their roots to harden off for winter. It's a bad time of year to be further stressed.

Finally, on the subject of the garden, my tiny seeds of creeping thyme are developing well between stepping stones by the patio. I had real fear that they wouldn't do anything, since they were So Small (invisible almost), but they did just fine. Now, if they can just survive the winter here!

Creeping thyme getting a start

A joint project

But a lot more happened this summer than the garden. We had terrific visits from friends from New Hampshire, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania. Some were old friends we've stayed in touch with over the Idaho years, but some were reconnections. It was wonderful. We were also visited by our oldest daughter and her tribe. . . Dad, and the 2 young princes of Austin, and the princess. The middle Grand once told me "You know, Grandma, we're not REALLY princes. . ." You can imagine my reply.

We were so glad they could come from so far away. And of course, we were exhausted when they left. And had a couple of new homeowner projects as a result!

I've continued with the indoor sports. New shades made for the guest room, new rugs upstairs (bought, not made), a paltry number of pots made (but some interesting new glazes experimented with), and a pillow made from a needlepoint that John's Mom left us.

Socks finished

new pot with an interesting glaze

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm chomping at the bit to finish the shades and get into the studio. I'm going to make cleats for the shades shaped like running rabbits. . .at least that's the plan. What a pleasure it is to be able to take on small projects like that. Of course, given my track record, I'll probably have to make them 5 times before they're satisfactory.

Fabric for the shades

We've also been able to spend time with some new friends. It's hard to really get established, but people have been so open. We will never be part of the conversations about old school friends or what happened here in high school, but we can be part of other conversations. And we have found it surprisingly easy to find ways to contribute to the community. We are Not so good at retirement yet, but expect that will come as things settle down.

Sunset over Long Pond from R's backyard

 

Labor Day

[turn on the sound]

Summer deliciousness

 The summer has gone by faster than a speeding puppy. Or maybe we should create a new metric: The Speed Of a Maine Summer (SOMS). Hmm. I'm not sure that will catch on. Nonetheless, my writing here has suffered. I'd lean toward apologizing for that, except that I don't know how I could have changed things. Today, Labor Day (5 September 2022) we've had high 50's temperatures and a much needed slow rain all day. John and I joined the birds at the feeder for a wonderful lunch on our front (covered) deck. A smattering of RED (not white) wine to go with. Summer isn't quite over. . . we're supposed to get into the 80's next week, but the cool weather is delicious and foretells the fall. There are even a few trees with yellow and red leaves scattered about, though it's likely premature senescence from the dry summer.

 

Cherry, Early Girl and Black Krim tomatoes

Still. The summer brought wonderful summery things to us, including visits from family and friends. It turns out that Maine is a more likely summer destination than Idaho was. Surprise! And. I realized today that we haven't quite been here for one year. . .I had to scour emails and last year's day planner to find it. We drove down this driveway for the first time on the afternoon of September 16th, 2021. Our Stuff didn't arrive until several weeks later. That's when I realized how very much I like furniture. Who knew?

Black Krim on the vine

Harvest dates were surprisingly similar to Boise's. Kale started in June, and would have completely overwhelmed us (the soil is Very good!), except that friends took a lot of it, and then a ground hog showed up who might have shut down the entire garden enterprise. It is surprising the amount of damage one ground hog can do. My first view of him was out our bathroom window. He was munching clover. Very acceptable. The next, though, was to see him from the bedroom window. I didn't actually see him. . . I saw the kale in the raised bed being shook from below. I ran out of the house in my bathroom yelling like crazy. He ran off for a bit, but continued to damage the kale, zucchini and eggplant foliage. By "damage", I mean completely destroy. He also had quite a taste for forget-me-nots. After trying some rudimentary fencing, red pepper, and red pepper flakes, a hiking friend told me about a solar powered sonar device. With great rolls of our eyes, John and I placed two near the vegetable beds. Shockingly, it worked. I'm not sure how long the effect will last. . . critters (as they are called here) are notorious for acclimating to such things, but the year's harvest, at least, was saved. And John was none the sadder for having lost the late kale crop.

 

More deliciousness

Cherry tomatoes started in the 3rd week of July, zucchini soon to follow. By the second week in August, we were awash in tomatoes, large and small. I tried (as I often do) a heritage tomato . . this one called Black Krim. . .along with the usual planting of Early Girls. It was disappointing, so I was glad to see that Early Girl performs as well in Oakland Maine as it does in Boise Idaho. Ripeness of the Black Krim was difficult to discern, and it had a shape that was like Beefsteak on steroids. . .most were very convoluted and not good for slicing as a result. I found them attractive, but not very practical. Their flavor profile was terrific for about 20 minutes. Ah well.

 

Peaches joined us in mid-August from one tree, and two weeks later from the other. I had to scramble to make some jam, because the peach crop overlapped with visitors and visiting, so many were given away. Really, a perfect use for peaches, since canning them never results in the juice-running-down-the-chin experience. Some were a little small, because I didn't QUITE thin them to the 1-per-6" rule, but the flavor was to die for in both cultivars. Those cultivars, by the way, remain unknown to me.

On the tree. . .

Peaches: the Belle of the Ball

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now, we'll continue to gather our tomatoes, our lone eggplant (left on the plant until I figure out what I want to do with that lone survivor), and our apple crop is almost here. More on that, and other summer adventures in the next post!