This October will be remembered for its skies, I think, especially its cloud races and its fabulous moon. So, let’s begin with some clouds and build up to the moon.
Of course, to many people who live south of us, October in Maine means “Spectacular Fall Foliage!” Well, this year, it was more like a “Pretty Good Fall Foliage.” To be sure, there were spectacular, vibrant colors, but they were scattered for the most part — that tree up there, those leaves here, those berries down there.
Most disappointing were our blueberry fields. They usually cool to the deep red of a hearty Burgundy wine; this year, they mostly reached only the pink of a pleasing rosé:
There also were those trees that we rely on to make a spectacular showing every October, but this year many prematurely released their leaves before I could photograph them:
Nonetheless, October in Maine is much more than colorful leaves. It’s one of the the best times to walk on mosses and fallen leaves in the woods and release their scents, and to take booted steps in fast- moving streams and change the tempo of their music, and to hunt the many mushrooms that suddenly appear in the cool and sometimes wet month. (But don’t eat any of those fungi unless you’re certain they’re edible — especially those that look like the white one below, which is a deadly destroying angel mushroom.)
For some of us, there also is the pleasing option here of strolling or driving along lonely country roads on a cool October morning and remembering when we used to commute in big cities:
October also is the month that we say goodbye to some of our wildlife, including musical hermit thrushes that migrate here for the spring and summer, white-faced meadowhawk dragonflies that are born here and will die here, and resident garter snakes that usually go into an underground torpor during the month. This October also was when a resident red squirrel made sure that we read an important reminder that a neighbor has posted.
On the waterfront, the American Eagle cruised into Great Cove in early October, the last of the tourist schooners until next year. The last of the WoodenBoat School fleet went the other way — it was taken out of the Cove and tucked into winter storage during the month.
Meanwhile, our fishing vessels continued to haul lobster traps in the coastal waters and pose for portraits when they were idle. (The lobster industry is facing some difficult challenges these days. We tried to help in October by letting our daughter buy live lobsters and roast them, then serve them to us over linguine in a beurre blanc sauce. It’s tough, but we like to pitch in when needed.)
We noted above that the October foliage this year was not spectacular. However, October made up for that by providing several moon experiences that were as celestially spectacular as celestial spectacularism gets. At mid-month, October delivered a slim, waxing crescent moon that provided the perfect, delicate touch to complete a fine sundown scene:
The moon showed us more and more of herself as the month progressed. Near the end of the month, on the day before October was scheduled to deliver the full hunters’ moon, there was a virtually full moon behind scary, fast-moving clouds that would qualify for a Stephen King movie:
The next day, October 28, there was a layer of thick cloud several thousand feet above Acadia National Park, when the full hunters’ moon was supposed to rise there in the murky dusk. The moon rose on schedule: big and rough and orange-red in that murky atmosphere and then disappeared into the cloud layer:
Hours later, as it arced above the ocean, the full moon escaped our dingy atmosphere and became a brilliant white orb that proudly displayed its asteroid-created craters like battle scars:
That should be our dramatic end to this post. But, of course, October ends with our weirdest holiday of the year, Halloween. This year there were plenty of creative attempts to join in the weirdness:
It was a good month.
(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during October 2023.)