In the Right Place: Sheer Delight

Down East Maine lobster boats have evolved over many years into remarkably efficient working vehicles that (to some of us, not everyone) have become examples of beautiful functionalism. They come in various sizes and colors, but also have many common features.

The fishing vessels shown here are part of the local fleet of “inshore” boats that fish on day trips for lobsters well within the 200-mile limit of U.S. waters. Much larger lobster boats fish farther out in the “offshore” fishery, often taking multi-day trips.

As far as I can tell from observation and the design literature, some inshore lobster boats are relatively small (14-22 feet long), but apparently a majority are of good size, up to about 45 feet. Nowadays, most are made of fiberglass or some non-wood compound and are run on a single, inboard marine diesel engine.

They usually have a low trunk cabin in the bow area; a standing shelter/wheelhouse with an open back amidships, and, behind that, an open cockpit with low rails (freeboard) to facilitate trap hauling. That hauling is usually done with a hydraulic lift that swings over the side of the boat. Inside the wheelhouses, they usually are equipped with a citizens’ band (CB) radio and/or a very high frequency (VHF) marine radio telephone, a depth sounder, and radar.

Perhaps the most distinguishing characteristics of a lobster boat are its deep and sharp “forefoot” (front portion of the hull) and corresponding high bow with spray rails near the water surface. These features help maneuverability, especially in rough waters. The “sheer” of most lobster boats is what attracts me – that graceful, downward sweep from their high, water-busting bows, through their low, spacious cockpits, to their sterns.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 17, 2023.)

In the Right Place: A Different Way

Great Cove was in a good mood last night. She attracted a waxing crescent moon and stayed very still and alone as the departing light gave her a good-night kiss.

Here on the ridge, we’re still in that phase when we have to get adjusted to not seeing sailboats starting to sleep at dusk. The wild ducks and geese are replacing them in the Cove now. It’s not the same, but just as good in a different way. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 18, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Hot Issues Department

Many Mainers are now splitting and stacking wood to burn in their fireplaces and woodburning stoves this winter. In some residences, wood is the primary source of heat. The costs of heating oil and heating gas are a big part of that story. Split wood and wood pellets are relatively inexpensive, especially if you do your own splitting.

However, 10 states are reported to be suing the federal Environmental Protection Agency for permitting consumers to purchase and use woodburning stoves. They claim that the stove use is damaging their environment. The states are Alaska, Illinois, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota, New Jersey, New York, Oregon, Vermont, and Washington. 

The latest Census data that I could find, as analyzed by the Alliance for Green Heat, show that, as of 2009, Vermont was the state that had the largest percentage of homes heated primarily from wood. Maine was second, followed, in order, by, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, and New Hampshire. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 13, 2023.)

In the Right Place: At a Crossroads

Here’s an iconic Maine “connected farmhouse” that I monitor photographically, although the experience is more like a death vigil for a once-important structure that dies a bit each day – in public, an embarrassment to us all. This was a home and part of a small farm at one time. It even housed the one-room North Brooklin Post Office, which E.B. White mentioned in one or two of his essays.

Dying and dead small farms are a symbol of the times: Maine land values are increasing, especially in coastal communities; insurers are refusing to insure old houses without extraordinarily expensive safety renovations; mortgage institutions are refusing to lend money for houses that don’t have adequate insurance, and many older homeowners do not have the heart or money to tear down their former homes. They move away and don’t look back.

There is a movement here in Maine to use land trusts to try to conserve some of these farmhouses by subsidizing organic and other small farmers to inhabit them, but it may be too little too late.  There seems to be more effort and money being put into bringing high-speed Internet to rural communities than in bringing affordable housing to them. More computer capability means more business people moving onto what was farmland. Let’s hope that they respect the land. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 14, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Pastel Copy

Judging from a quick trip around the area yesterday, the fall foliage this year continues to be a muted pastel copy of the riotous colors of past years.

Especially disappointing are the blueberry fields near the Sedgwick-Blue Hill border, shown here. They’re not vibrant red -- yet.

There still is time for an enchanting touch from the October weather witch’s wand. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on October 14, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Killers on the Loose

More bad news: It looks like we’re going to have an abundant crop of Asian Bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculatus) berries this year. The red fruits are just now emerging from their yellow husks in beautiful galaxies of future harm. They soon will be converted to widely-distributed bird poop that propagates the loathsome plant all too well.

This non-native plant is a tree and bush killer, and its lethal propagation has proved impossible to control in Maine and other parts of the United States. Its sale is prohibited here, but the State admits that it has lost the control war. The plant uses its sinuous vines like trained pythons that squeeze to death the trees and bushes that are their hosts. It’s all about competing for sun and nutrients.

Asian Bittersweet is a reminder of the dangers of basing an environmental choice on the impulsive pursuit of beauty and/or the mistaken notion that diversity for diversity’s sake is always a good idea. The plant was introduced here in the 19th Century to bring variety and spectacular fall colors to gray winter landscapes. As a result, many trees and bushes will never be green again.

There is a native version of bittersweet, aptly named American Bittersweet (Celastrus scandens). It’s environmentally innocuous, and perhaps that’s why it’s not as successful in propagating itself as its prolific Asian cousin. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 12, 2023.)

In the Right Place: It’s Hooting Season

This image of a great horned owl appears in my monthly column in the current Ellsworth American with an explanation of the unusual circumstances in which the photograph was taken. 

To read the column about these owls and the strange things that they do in October, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Mixed Blessings

This summer and fall have been abnormally warm and wet, conditions that have prolonged the life of our bogs, swollen our streams, and filled our ponds:

It’s a blessing compared to last year. At about this time of year then, 11.14 percent of Maine was experiencing abnormal dryness, according to U.S. Drought Monitor data. There is none reported now. This year’s wet warmth has its positive aspects, but I’m worried about what might happen if we get a sudden freezing spell. Many trees are still holding onto leaves and apparently are still circulating fluids. 

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 8, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Snakes in the Grass

I’ve seen at least one Common Garter Snake on the prowl during each of the past four days. They sometimes are hard to see among fallen leaves – until they move and make the fallen leaves rustle softly, as this one did:

These reptiles (Thamnophis sirtalis) are Maine’s most commonly encountered snakes, according to the State’s “Species Spotlight” on them. The ones that I’m seeing may be headed upland to find the right size real estate for overwintering, maybe a choice rodent burrow, ant mound, or root tunnel.

On the other hand, our ground remains reasonably damp and the weather has been relatively warm, which leads me to believe that earthworms are still active. Maybe the snakes are just being opportunistic. Earthworms account for 60-95 percent of this snake’s diet, according to that report.

After one or two overnight frosts, however, the snakes should settle down for a sleep, but they’ll come back out occasionally, on warm winter days. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 9, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Good Times

Yesterday was both clear and cloudy at the same time, which is a paradox that happens when the fat members of the stratocumulus family breeze into town for a reunion.

A good time was had by all, including us spectators. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 9, 2023.)

In the Right Place: An Omen?

Another apparent Climate Warming and Wetting surprise is happening now: Our Viburnum cultivar bushes are producing spring flowers again, but in the fall, as you see here. Is this an omen of bad things to come or just a nice result of a strange spring and summer?

These double file bushes (Viburnum plicatum f. tomenosum) are turning their beautiful fall burgundy color in a timely manner, but the flowering is unprecedented for them. For decades, these bushes only produced flowers in the spring through June, followed by the summer red fruit and fall purple foliage.  Not now. Oh well, if the world is going to hell, a flowered path might help.

There reportedly are over 150 species of viburnum, several of which are native to North America and were used by Native Americans and European settlers for food and tea. This double file species, however, is a native of Asia that has been cultivated widely in the United States. When abandoned, it sometimes naturalizes itself. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 8, 2023.) See also the image in the first Comment space.

In the Right Place: Marble, Porcelain, and Pewter

This morning is the fourth day in a row that we’ve awakened to overcast and fog. The weather tellers say that we might see partial sun by afternoon. You have to get used to shades of daily gray here on the coast. Nonetheless, it’s not that bad for those of us who worship light in all of its manifestations, especially light’s infinite effects on the appearance of sea water.

At Naskeag point, for example, Harbor Island’s tall spruce and balsam fir trees can cast black reflections that make parts of the snug harbor’s waters appear to be rippling black and white marble:

Yet, peering into nearby Great Cove and beyond, the same waters on the same day can appear to be an unlikely composite of milky porcelain and polished pewter:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 6, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Outdoor and Indoor Art

The annual mooring gear outdoor art exhibit has appeared on the WoodenBoat School Campus.

This functional abstract expressionism – so free, yet neat – counterbalances the School’s annual marine architecture encasement, in which artful vessels are enclosed for the winter in a post-and-panel shelter:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on October 4, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Seeing Red

Winterberry fruits seem to have come out early and bountifully this year. Some of our shrubs look as if they have been blasted by red shot. Maybe it’s because of our relatively wet and warm spring and summer. When the leaves disappear, winterberry’s red blush on the gray landscape will be a pick-me-up.

Winterberry (Ilex verticillata) is native to Maine and grows wild here in acidic soils, especially those that are damp or wet, such as roadside embankments and marsh edges.  The plant’s berries are among the last to be eaten by birds in the winter, apparently because they are less nutritious than the other foods that are consumed first.

However, the winterberry fruits are reported to be the ultimate survival foods for late-wintering American robins, bluebirds, brown thrashers, cardinals, catbirds, cedar waxwings, grosbeaks, and thrushes, among other birds. Mice and raccoons also reportedly gobble the berries in winter. For humans, it’s another story: The uncooked berries apparently are toxic to some of us and dogs, cats, and horses. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 4 and 6, 2023.)

In the Right Place: The Last Schooner?

Here we see the good schooner American Eagle as the first light reached her in Great Cove yesterday morning, where she overnighted.

She sailed out with a fair wind at about 11 a.m. yesterday. She’s on a four-night fall color trip, according to her schedule. She probably will have been the last coastal cruiser that we see this year.

The Eagle is a 90-foot, high-riding schooner out of Rockland, Maine. She was launched in 1930 as the Andrew & Rosalie, the last fishing schooner built in Gloucester, Massachusetts. In 1941, during World War II, she was patriotically renamed American Eagle.

She fished until 1983 and then went through difficult times until she was totally renovated in 1986 as a tourist coastal cruiser. She has since become a National Historic Landmark. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 4, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Requiem for the Lily Pads

The pads of fragrant water lilies live quiet summer lives in the shadows of their plants’ beautiful floating flowers, and then they die lonely deaths in the fall, weeks after the flowers have gone.

Some pads just darken quickly and slip submissively into the murky depths at this time of year. But others silently protest, curling and twisting on the surface and eventually turning into colorful abstractions that lie just below the water’s surface for days, shrinking but not sinking.

They become more interesting than they ever were; but, eventually, even they slip away like our memories of summer’s good times. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 3, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Something’s Amiss

Here you see an adult male White-Faced Meadowhawk Dragonfly during his last days on earth. (This species [Sympetrum obtrusum] is not known to migrate, according to reports.)

Only the males of this species have red bodies and only the adult males look like they were hit in the face with a cream pie. That is, as with some other animals, the common name for this dragonfly only describes the more dramatic mature male.

The red juvenile male has no white on the face and all the females of the species are yellowish-green all over. Yet, both sexes and all ages are called White-Faced Meadowhawks. (Something’s amiss in the naming here, like “mankind” including women and children and “ladybug” including males and young, but I digress.)

All of these dragonflies are small, usually getting to no more than 1.5 inches in length, but they’re among the most ferocious creatures in the animal kingdom relative to size – they’ll catch, kill, and eat almost any soft-bodied insect that will mostly fit into their mouths (including mosquitoes, black flies, midges, and flying ants), and they’ll eat hundreds of them daily. They’re good to have around, no matter what they’re called.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 1 and 2, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Ancient Airs and Dances

October is the time to see the ancient architecture of old apple trees as the dropping leaves reveal the trees’ secrets. We monitor this clutch of beauties at the WoodenBoat School year-round, but they are at their most interesting now, seemingly line dancing over a crest. (Or is it contra dancing?)

Nearby, the queen of the group has been allowed to celebrate as she wishes and cast large shadows:

Based on the history of their land, it would appear that these trees are at least 100 years old or near that point. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 1, 2023.)

September Postcards From Down East Maine

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.)

In the Right Place: Trash Talk

Yesterday, when this image was taken, was the last day of WoodenBoat School classes for 2023. Another sad reminder of how quickly good times pass.

Above, you see, from an unusual southern perspective, the WBS BoatShop building, which is over 100 years old and still has its original slate roof. (It was primarily a huge stable on an estate.) This view discloses the kind of unique trash that the WBS boatbuilding classes generate. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 29, 2023.)