Back Home and somehow it's almost November. . .

 

Beech tree, late October

After two weeks of touring the Maritimes, we came back home to a decidedly advanced Autumn. The reds of the maples, viburnum and sumac are mostly on the ground. Who knew it was the week of The Beeches? I was so busy when we moved here last year, that I didn't have time to closely observe the autumnal changes, so this year is a real treat. This tree is one of many along our driveway. . .the beeches stand out now, because they're some of the last ones that haven't quite given in to senescence. I really love this tree. The leaves are held by tiers of branches, reminiscent of a layered flounce dress. The colors range from light yellow to a rusty orange. She is magnificent.

My beloved Copper Beech in front of the house isn't quite dramatic. She does her biggest act in the spring, when her leaves emerge coppery red, transition to dark red, and then to green. A slow motion magic trick.

Copper Beech

Now, she's hanging on to her chlorophyll with a little more tenacity, and is subtler in her presentation than the local beeches. I do remember that last year she was the last to drop her leaves, and that their journey to earth is more sudden. Seemingly final. Thank goodness we know that spring will come again, or this would be the saddest time of year. In fact, most gardeners are a little relieved when things toddle off to bed for a few months rest. Here in Maine we are particularly sequestered in the winter, and I find myself looking forward to some serious time in the studio. I don't seem to be able to do both the garden and the studio justice simultaneously.

 

 

 

 

A preponderance of smooth rocks

Once again, though, my chronology is off. I didn't take a lot of pictures while we were in Canada, but I did take some. We journeyed first to Acadia and Ellsworth (south of Bar Harbor). Acadia is an usual National Park. It's interspersed on Mt. Dessert Island with Bar Harbor and several other small towns, so that you're in and out of the park, and in and out of towns. I'm not always a big fan of National Parks because of crowds and the lack of dog friendliness, so it was lovely to find that Acadia is really quite dog friendly. The leash laws are always stated, but that gets silly when you're alone on the trail, and scrambling over rocks at 60 degree angles. I could write an op ed on leashes, dogs and people, but I'll save it.

Again, my chronology is off. These rocks are from Hirtle's Beach close to Rose Bay. We spent our last 4 days in this area, about an hour East of Lunenberg. Lunenberg was a quaint place. . very old world touristy (actually a world heritage center), and we had a great lunch on a deck over the bay with Jasper. The weather was mostly quite warm. . .not hot. Just warmer than we had planned. We needed more short sleeved shirts and fewer sweaters! 

This post is getting over-long, so I'll finish up with some images from the trip, and continue in a future post.

The Dock at Bass Cove, Mt. Dessert Island

A reflecting lake in Rockwood Park, St. John NB

Favorite hiking companions

A stranger along the way

One of many waterfalls encountered

 

Sweet groundcover. . . a moss?

Senescencing flowers

Foggy morning on the St. George River 

Cathedral in St. John

New England Fall

View through the patio arch

I have always loved Fall. Boise's fall was especially nice in the early 2000's,  because it was not-to-warm, and often extended until Thanksgiving. I remember having a couple of roses from our yard on the table one Thanksgiving. The colors were fine, too. The native trees color yellow with a little bit of orange for the most part, but Boise has a lot of trees that have been planted that sport lovely fall reds as well.

All of this fades in comparison to the colors everywhere here in Maine. The reds are particularly vibrant, with some almost dark pink, and they are everywhere. It's hard to find a bit of forest that isn't splashed with color. The mix of conifers and deciduous trees often results in a riot of color against a dark green background. 

Ethereal.

The bedroom window in October

I wake up to the image on the right. It won't last, of course, but I've come to appreciate the ephermerality of it as much as the actual color. In a couple of months, there will be only the dark forms of the tree trunks and branches. And then they'll be covered with snow. Seasons. I can't imagine living without them.

We've been bat-spotting at dusk a few times. Our bedroom deck has the fire table on it, with chaises on either side, and it makes for perfect bat watching. These are not the flying foxes of Australia, with their 3 foot wingspans, but our smaller Eastern bats. Two bats dive and swerve and come together and dart apart. Dusk is early these days, too. 6:30 or so. I told a friend recently in an email that the trade off of the cooler days and nights is a fair one for the extended heat of the Idaho summer.

Dark pink with birches

We had a waxing moon coming through the trees the other night. The iPhone camera can't see what the human eye sees, but it still saw something worth looking at. I also tried to get the shadow of the branches on the deck, but that's lost on the iPhone, too. I expect it's failure to see those is similar to what it can't see in dappled shade. So, as always, I took a picture in my mind. Only time will tell how many of those I'll be able to access as time moves on.

A rising moon with clouds

We leave for our trip to the Maritimes tomorrow, so I won't likely be posting here for the next two weeks. Be safe, stay well, and keep on paying attention.

Nature's composition, 2

In the moment. . .

 

One definition of heaven is standing outside, arranging the last of the hydrangeas on a beautiful fall day.

First Frost

 

October on the Messalonski

Some of my best images come from my consort. This is one of them. Fall on the Messalonski at the Quarry Trails. 

This first frost seems early to me, at least compared to last year. After the first cold bit, I harvested all of the apples, and am now drying a bunch of herbs. I've dried herbs before, by hanging them in bunches and waiting, but the flavor was always lackluster. Dried green vegetable bits. But with the new dehydrator, I thought it was worth revisiting. I was right. The faster drying in an enclosed container must make the difference.

Fall Gifts

And these are the last of it. . . two eggplant, a large handful of cherry tomatoes, canned applesauce, and sage, tarragon and rosemary to dry. I'm going to dig up one of my rosemary plants and see if I can nurse it through the winter. Not likely, honestly, but worth a try. I used to do this with a banana plant that I had for years in Pennsylvania. That was 25 years ago, when seeing a banana plant outside in a temperate climate was really crazy. Smile. Suddenly, I'm longing for one of those. . .

What more perfect food?

Ah. And that was a cart-before-the-horse moment, wasn't it? Here are images of the apples on the tree. These are McIntosh (I'm pretty sure), and they were late to ripen this year. They made a fabulous pie and very tasty applesauce.

 

 

Not a bad harvest. . .

 I don't feel quite ready for winter. While I'm enjoying the chill in the morning immensely (34F this morning), and the days have been ideal. . .in the high 50's, low 60's. . .I want it to last for a while. So! I went from being annoyed by the heat in Boise, and now a little trepidated by the possibility of early cold in Maine.To quote Bob Dylan, "Maybe I'm too sensitive. .. or else I'm getting soft. . ."

from my bedroom window

This is what I see when I wake up in the morning. The cooler morning walks have been truly wonderful. Jasper is clearly taken with the cooler weather, and so is the Red Maple outside our bedroom window.

Yard and dog

I've been trying to capture the feel of the dappled light here for quite some time. This image is not so successful, but maybe some of it is how it makes Me feel, not an objective feel? Or maybe not. There are things that the lens just doesn't catch as completely as the human eye can. When were were in New Mexico, much was made about the quality of the light. Artists have sought it out, Georgia O'Keefe being only one of many. And it is lovely. It somehow sharpens and softens at the same time.

An attempt to capture dapple light

But the light in these woods is also extraordinary. The fecund quality of these woods is enhanced and, again, both sharpened and softened by it. Just differently. We often have this experience of not being able to tell what color our walls are, because of the way the green-filtered light hits them. 

Leaves, soil and streams of light

 

I'll close with one of nature's own compositions. Leaves and sunstream. What a place.