Maine in Late August

Maine Musings

In late August one suddenly becomes aware that the season is changing. Summer is coming to an end. What one takes for granted in July- sparkling water, the clear greens of trees, clouds floating in a summer sky, all subtly change.

Single small fall colored leaves go nearly unnoticed.

It is only when one sees the first trees with red leaves
that one becomes aware of the late summer changes.

And then one suddenly starts seeing signs of
fall all around one.

Apples are ripening in old farm yards.

In marshes cat tails have suddenly become full and furry.

In the hedgerows ripe berries gleam
against a backdrop of yellowing leaves.

And mushrooms seem to pop up everywhere!

One often sees caterpillars looking for
places to hibernate.

In late August the meadows have a dusty hazy look.
Grasses and pines start looking drier, dustier, as they yellow.

The breadth of the meadows, the smell of the grasses,
the sound of the river, and the smell of the water surround one with the sense of peace.

Late flowers continue blooming,
nearing the end of their cycle.

Queen Anne’s lace adds a fairy tale look!

Fields are filled with stands of milkweed.

Host for the monarch caterpillars,
at this time of year their flowers serve up nectar to
monarch butterflies as they migrate south.

The river can be glimpsed through the trees.

A boat house floats above its reflection in the nearly full tide of the river.

In the late afternoon the sound of cicadas is a background sound on the meadows.
Above, the honking of geese migrating is heard.

For Spot every tree
needs to be investigated for squirrels.

In the woods a thick layer of duff from fir trees
softens our walk, and quiets our steps.
From the river comes a cool breeze,
the spicy scent of the firs wafts through the late afternoon air.

 

Back in the meadow the air is filled with
dragonflies and small sulfur butterflies.
The dragonflies fly in circles, sometimes as many as twenty at a time!
The sulfurs flit over the flowers
often in pairs… too fast to photograph.

The scent of clover fills the air in last warmth of the day.

A late summer evening infolds the meadows in shadows,
as we head home.

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