In the Right Place: Come and Get It!

As it gets cold and the leaves shrivel and fall, winter survival food for our wildlife becomes startlingly obvious to us and the birds and mammals that are about to go through their most difficult months. Here you see the shiny rose hips of a multiflora rose bush:

Below, you’ll see a resplendent winterberry bush, a species that is having an especially good year here:

These fruits are eaten by many birds, chipmunks, mice, rabbits and hares, white-tailed deer, and the occasional insomnia-suffering black bear. Rose hips, which contain significant amounts of vitamin C, are especially nutritious. Winterberry is one of the least nutritious winter berries and, therefore, usually is among the last to be eaten. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on November 2, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Glad Tidings

Here you see a lowering, but still very high, tide in Blue Hill Bay yesterday afternoon. That’s Blue Hill in the distance, a near-mountain that usually isn’t blue.

Yesterday, the reported high tide level there was 11.3 feet (above the average height of the daily lowest tide observed over a 19-year period -- the Mean Lower Low Water mark used by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for tidal charts).

The tides here lately have been exceptionally high due to the lingering effects of the Hunters’ Full Moon, which rose at its fullest on October 28. As you probably know, the moon’s gravitational pull exertsa tidal force that causes the Earth’s waters to bulge out on the sides nearest and farthest from the moon.(Image taken in the Town of Blue Hill, Maine, on November 1, 2023.)

October Postcards From Down East Maine

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.)

In the Right Place: Happy Halloween

Here are a few of the enjoyable holiday displays from our area.:

Historians trace Halloween customs back to a Celtic belief that on November 1 the souls of the dead returned. This became associated with the holy eve (“hallow” “een”) of the Christian All Saints Day, when saints and other dead are supposed to be remembered.

Costumes were worn, bonfires and Jack o’ lanterns (made of turnips) were lit and skeletons exhibited on October 31 to scare off any evil spirits that might take the opportunity to return with the holy dead. (Images taken in Blue Hill and Brooklin, Maine, on October 28 and 27, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Red Plague

Here you see gobs of beautiful, ripe, red Asian bittersweet fruit. I think that I’ve seen more of these berries (Celastrus orbiculatus) this October than I have in any prior year.

Stated another way, these are the gorgeous beginnings of a disaster-in-the-making.

The birds love this fruit and disseminate it widely in their droppings, starting new bittersweet vines all over the place. Those vines, in turn, survive by strangling to death their host trees and bushes to assure that they can steal light and nutrients. Asian bittersweet even attacks and severely damages mighty spruce trees:

State efforts to control this invasive killer have been relatively ineffective; private efforts to get rid of the plants have helped somewhat, but the plants apparently are propagating faster in Maine than they can be removed. It’s plague-like. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 27, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Full Moon Rising

Here you see the rise of the October full moon yesterday over Acadia National Park during a dingy dusk:

Below, you’ll see that moon as it climbed above our dirty atmosphere, where you could clearly see some of its basaltic craters and plains that were formed by ancient asteroid impacts. It was more than 231,000 miles away yesterday.

This moon was called the hunters’ moon by Native Americans who stocked up on food at this time of year, especially deer that had fattened for the winter, according to the Farmers’ Almanac records. We usually continue to call the October full moon the hunters’ moon, but once every four years it rises in November. (The word “moon,” itself, is derived from ancient words for “month.”)

As for the moon’s surface, that little “belly button” in the moon’s southwest (lower left) is the little crater Tycho, if I’m reading my lunar map correctly; immediately above it to the left are the dark seas of moisture and of clouds, among others; to its right in the moon’s southeast and east, are the seas of vapors, of nectar, and of fertility, among others. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 28 and 29 (12:34 a.m.), 2023.)

In the Right Place: A Question

The unexceptional maple trees seen here usually are a blazing yellow tunnel by mid-October. Not this warm and wet year. The Beth Eden Chapel was finished in 1900 and the driveway beside it went to a residence built in 1902 by Morrill Goddard, a Hearst Publications editor.

The maples that line that driveway and shadow the Chapel are old, but they don’t look old enough to be the original Goddard driveway trees. Does anyone know when these trees were planted?

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 25, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Scarifier Sighting

Old pull-graders such as this one still are in use here to scrape and smooth dirt and crushed rock lanes and driveways that are damaged by rains and frost heaves. They’re now pulled by tractors or trucks instead of horses or oxen. But, they’re still manipulated by a skilled operator who sits or stands on the grader and uses three wheels to steer and adjust the height and angle of the scraper.

The first road grader of this type reportedly was invented in 1885 by Joseph D. Adams of Indianapolis, Indiana. It had two “leaning wheels” that could be angled to the side. In 1896, his company produced a huge four-wheel pull-grader with an eight-foot adjustable blade. The contraption was designed to be drawn by horses or a steam tractor. It was called “The Road King.”

That invention was still popular in 1911 and was advertised then with a claim that might resonate today with frugal Mainers: “Don’t throw away money by putting more new material on your old macadam or gravel roads, but let the Road King Scarifier simply reshape them. *** The Road King is suitable for either eight horses or engine power.” (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 25, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Beggars Can’t Be Choosers

We’ve been having some beautiful mornings recently, including the one in the image below, taken Tuesday – cool (but not cold), clear (but not glaring), calm (but not dead). Unfortunately, many afternoons have been overcast due to cloud buildup.

As to the above image, of course, you’re looking at the iconic red boathouse at Conary Cove. No matter what the weather, it practically begs to be photographed as you round the curves that snake along the Cove.

Note that there’s not much dramatic color in the deciduous trees on that peninsular and that some of the trees have dropped their leaves without any fanfare. It’s been that kind of fall. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on October 24, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Almost Jarring

The WoodenBoat School’s 2023 campus programs are done, but the school’s distinctive post-and-panel boat shed has yet to be fully closed and sealed, as you see here. The shed contains a number of WBS’s small boat fleet that will be stored there over the winter.

Inside the shed, the lines and textures of highly-crafted vessels present an almost a jarring contrast to the stolid terrestrial architecture and gravel floor that now holds the boats immobile:

These vessels that are designed for a seemingly limitless and fluid environment will soon be closed entirely into this confined space that is illuminated through skylights. It seems a bit like keeping butterflies in a terrarium, but Maine winters are not good for beautiful butterflies or beautiful boats. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on October 23, 2023.)

In the Right Place: MeisterSinger

Here’s one of our birds that is rarely seen, yet considered by many to be the best that can be heard. It soon will migrate south. It’s an aptly-named Hermit Thrush whose flute-like summer arpeggios at twilight are among the most beautiful gifts ever given humans. These extraordinary vocalists (Catharus guttatus) have been called the American Nightingales.

I was lucky enough to catch sight of this one fly up to a branch for a few seconds yesterday before it fluttered back down to its patch of shaded leaf litter below and blended back into obscurity.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 23, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Finding the Fun in Fungi

The cool (but not freezing) weather with plenty of rain that we’ve been having is when many mushrooms come out to work and play, including the fungi shown here having a wood-rotting party.

Mushroom Maven David Porter tells me that they’re likely part of the Pholiota genus of wood disposers. Species in that genus usually need microscopic inspection for identification, I’ve read.

Among the more interesting terrestrial fungi that also are showing up here lately are what appear to be Chocolate Milky mushrooms (Lactarius lignyotus), which frequently grow under conifers and in mosses:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine. on October 8 and 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Autumn Assessment Time

We’re having a wet, warm, and muted fall in which the funereal flaring of the leaves seems to lack the color-saturated vibrancy of prior years.

Moreover, the durations of those displays often are cut short by rains that strip the trees bare before they can be appreciated in totality as masterpieces – sturdy trunks, complex branches, colorful leaves.

On the other hand, the sodden fallen leaves provide a colorful mosaic stage for the still-green mosses and ferns that remain vibrant from the rains and cool (but above-freezing) temperatures.

In the darker parts of the woods, mushrooms run rampant or collect in seemingly gleeful clusters; it’s their favorite kind of weather.

(Images taken in North Sedgwick and Brooklin, Maine, on October 8, 14 and 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Eat Lobster

Unfortunately, when inflation is added to the other difficulties facing our beleaguered lobster industry, the cost of lobster meat to its loving consumers has reached the wincing point. It’s become a luxury food for many who used to eat it regularly.

However, this luxury can still make a special occasion more special. I feel compelled to share an extraordinary lobster culinary experience that our daughter treated us to for a special family occasion this week.

She bought live lobsters locally, including the one shown above. After dispatching them in a kindly way, she opened the tails and cracked the claws and pan-roasted the tasty meat in its shells. Then, she presented them on al dente linguine under a delicious beurre blanc sauce. A good wine accompanied the dinner.  A memorable time was had by all!

Of course, boiled lobster with melted butter also is fabulous, so is lobster salad, so is a traditional lobster roll, so is lobster fra diavolo, so is lobster mac and cheese, so is lobster thermidor, so is lobster stew …. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 16, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Hog Calling

Here you see Dennis Black beginning the annual mowing of our restored fields yesterday. The job often takes more than a day due to some significant slopes and other terrain irregularities. It also can be challenging when the soil is wet, which it has been most of this year.

We postpone the mowing of our fallow fields here until the fall to assure that their summer residents – multitudes of birds, insects, reptiles, and other animals – are no longer raising their families there.

The cutting is necessary to prevent quick-growing raspberry bushes, conifer trees, and other larger plants from reappearing and changing the density of the land cover. Many of us have created and maintained fields of wild grasses, sedges, and wildflowers because such environments are disappearing in the United States, stressing the species that breed and live in them.

For equipment buffs: Dennis is riding a Massey Ferguson 2850E tractor and pulling a Woods single-spindle rotary cutter. That type of cutter (or “mower”) commonly is called a “bush hog,” which is not quite correct.

A “Bush Hog®” is a brand name that applies to only one company’s type of field and brush-cutting machines: Bush Hog LLC, headquartered in Selma, Alabama. That company advertises that, when it first demonstrated its invention in 1951, an amazed farmer said: “That thing eats bushes like a hog.”

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 19, 2023.)

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.)