September is our most poignant month. It’s when we have to let go of summer, the time of year that may be Maine’s reason for being. When the overture to fall is good, and this September it mostly was, we first feel the change in the crispier, clearer air, and seemingly see deeper into the daylight. Unless, of course, we’re experiencing Maine’s famous September fog, which can make us see deeper into ourselves.
This year, there was a special exception to the September blue-sky-or-fog-choice. Atlantic Storm Lee, a hurricane wannabe, lurched up the east coast doing damage wherever she went. At one point, she was headed directly at us and storm clouds collected here. But, she veered off and we felt only the effects of her swishing skirts — pounding rain and fairly high winds that blew down a few trees. However, she didn’t do large-scale damage here.
On the positive side, Lee’s rains and a fairly wet summer kept our wooded streams flowing strongly, our ponds high, and our woods lush.
This September featured two special events involving the classics. That is, we received a “Roll-In” of 20 vehicles from the Down East Model T Ford Club of America and a “Sail-In” of nine coastal cruisers from the Main Windjammer Association. The Sail-In occurred on a foggy-rainy day and some of these windjammers visited Great Cove at other times of the month.
On the working waterfront, our lobster fishing was in what one veteran fisherman called “The September slump,” which is when catches are light and there are a significant number of foggy days.
On the educational waterfront, part of the poignancy of September is that classes at the famed WoodenBoat School here end in the last few days of the month and their fleet of small boats — the small classrooms for learning the fundamentals of seamanship — are pulled from the water for storage. During the month, however, the sight of these small boats darting around Great Cove and even moored there in fog and sun always was a reassuring reminder that it was still summer.
September wildlife highlights involve migrants and residents. The month’s departures of the migratory birds and insects that play a large part in making our summer into SUMMER is another element of the month’s poignancy. We’ve most likely seen the last of this year’s regal monarch butterflies, their brightly striped caterpillars, and their chrysalis hatcheries. The month’s last generation of monarchs is on the way to Southern California and Mexico.
Similarly, most of the ospreys and their new families that were raised in Maine have begun their dangerous flights south, some destined for as far as South America. Here you see the last image taken of June, the youngest and most timid of the three ospreys that we watched being raised nearby. She kept returning to her birth nest and begging for food until almost the end of the month before (we hope) her instincts overcame her fear and she flew south.
As for our resident wildlife, the velvety antlers of our white-tailed deer appeared in September, the wild turkeys assembled larger roving congregations, and our local male pileated woodpecker staked out his territory again with some serious pounding that had woodchips flying.
Finally, the flora: September is when the wild blackberries ripen and become the perfect snack on a crisp day. Many of our wild (abandoned) apple trees lost their leaves during the month, making their tart, ripening fruit stand out on the old, gnarled limbs. Also dramatic in September are the ripened Northern Ash Tree berries that old-timers say predict a harsh winter.
However, what got our attention as September’s days dwindled down were the previews of what must come: the prematurely reddened maple leaves that start to fall singularly every now and then and the cinnamon fern that becomes a bold bronze memorial before it curls and dies away.
(Images taken in Down East Maine during September 2023.)