In the Right Place: Bustin' Out All Over

The evergreen Rhododendron plants are finally awakening around here.

Their grenade-like buds are exploding all over the place and adding brilliant flashes amid the lush, early-summer greenery.

Although not natives, these Asian plants thrive here and are the subject of considerable study as climate change affects flora. However, we’re trying not to imagine the experiments that led to the discovery that the honey from the nectar of some Rhododendrons is simultaneously an hallucinogen and a laxative.

Maine’s only native member of the Rhododendron genus is the deciduous Rhodora bog azalea. (All azaleas are Rhododendrons.) Here's a Rhodora blossoming:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Glory

Today is a day to remember one of our most important symbols and perhaps to reflect on what it now means to us and the rest of the world. It’s National Flag Day, the 241st anniversary of the adoption of the Stars and Stripes as the flag of the United States by the Second Continental Congress on June 14, 1777.

The image above seems to us to be especially timely. It’s of the mast atop the WoodenBoat School Boathouse on which Old Glory, the Flag of Canada, and the WoodenBoat Burgee were flying two days ago in a 12-knot breeze coming off Great Cove. Maine shares more border with Canada than it does with the rest of the U.S. We suspect that most Mainers have no problem with that. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Bright Morning

Great Cove is starting to get some interesting summer visitors, including Shanti out of Rockport, Maine, shown here getting ready to sail.

She’s a 42-foot 1973 Alden yawl that’s a bit unusual – graceful, almost historic lines with unique features.

For one thing, she’s a wooden boat, which apparently was uncommon for the Alden naval architects by 1973; yet, she has aluminum masts and spars.

Her cabin, including a stepped-up “dog house,” has a bright lacquer finish (natural lacquered wood) that contrasts with her white hull.

She sneaked into the Cove sometime late on June 11 and we caught her the next morning departing into a hazy Eggemoggin Reach under a fair wind.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Wake Up

Song Sparrows are common, small, and look like all other sparrows to those who don’t have the opportunity or inclination to focus on little brown blurs.

However, Song Sparrows offer us wonderful spring and summer gifts in the form of their melodious, yet thrillingly complex, arias – especially as wakeup calls that start a beautiful morning.

Song Sparrows reportedly can sing about 20 distinct songs during which they can do thousands of improvisations of each theme.

And, by the way, many of us who do focus on them think that they’re cute blurs. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Asticou Azalea Garden

June is the time to visit the renowned Asticou Azalea Garden, a serene blending of Down East Maine landscape with finishing touches of ancient Japanese gardening.

On June 10, when these images were taken, many of the famous Azaleas were in full bloom and the Rhododendrons buds were about to explode.

The Garden is located in Northeast Harbor in an area of amazing waters that the Native Americans called “asticou,” a boiling kettle.

The Garden was conceived by Charles Savage in the 1950s, primarily as an area to relocate many of the exquisite azaleas and trees in the nearby Bar Harbor garden of Beatrix Farrand, the pioneer American landscape architect.

Ms. Farrand famously asked: “Should it not be remembered that in setting a garden we are painting a picture?”

With financial help from John D. Rockefeller, the Asticou Azalea Garden was completed in 1957. It’s now a popular attraction to garden lovers worldwide.

The primary focal point of the Garden is Asticou Pond, which is surrounded by a landscape that evolves throughout the gardening year -- from flowering cherry trees in May to blazing fall leaves in October.

(Northeast Harbor, Maine)

In the Right Place: Luck

Here we have a gray cat on a gray pier during a gray morning last week. But, this is not just any cat. This is the acclaimed Jethro, Harbor Cat Supreme, who runs part of the WoodenBoat School.

Jethro's just finished supervising some rigging repairs on a 12 & ½ tied to the float at the end of the School’s pier. (See below.) His calmness shows that he considers the job well done.

When he’s not supervising things, Jethro often gives the WBS sailing students encouragement before they depart and congratulations when they return. It’s well known to sailors around here that giving Jethro a tummy rub is good luck. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Needy

Lady’s Slippers are our mysterious native orchids.

These plants have two unusual needs. First, they must trap and seduce bees and other pollinators to reproduce. Pollinators are enticed to enter a slit in the flower’s sweet-smelling pouch, which closes on them. To get out, they have to squeeze through hairs and pollinate the flower’s stigma with pollen from their visits to other flowers.

Second, Lady’s Slippers depend on threads of a fungus (Rhizoctonia genus) to open and pass on food to their seeds.

Locally, we’ve seen only the pink variety of Slippers, but the rare white variety may be seen at the nearby Orono Bog, which is where this image was taken:

(Brooklin, Maine)

Rest in Peace, Digby

In many small towns, there’s a dog that virtually everyone knows or recognizes. Ours was Digby, shown below, who died in an accident a few days ago. He was a mixture of Bernese and Great Pyrenees Mountain Dogs who was born in Colorado and “airmailed” to Maine as a puppy.

Digby was the Town greeter, usually lying on his owners’ open porch or a pile of snow about 30 feet from the main road into Brooklin. He often was the first living personality that we’d see as we came into Town, especially in the winter, when he loved being outside. We still instinctively look for him there as we round the bend.

We’re told that another B-P puppy is being airmailed here from Digby’s breeders in Colorado. Its name will be Torrey, the name of islands just off our coast that Digby loved to visit. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch III

The American Eagle sneaked into Great Cove without us noticing on the evening of June 30, her first night of a four-night cruise. Early the next day, we were pleasantly surprised to see her anchored offshore of the WoodenBoat School.

When the wind freshened later in the morning , the American Eagle hoisted sail and departed to the Southwest on her advertised Wildlife Tour in which Bald Eagles and Harbor Seal sightings often are highlights:

This 90-foot schooner is a National Historic Landmark 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 renamed American Eagle.

She fished until 1983 and then went through difficult times until she was totally renovated in 1986 as a sleek tourist schooner.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Appetizers

We have too many blessings to count, but we do count some worries – and this little Mallard is one of five of them. He (assumption as to sex), his attentive Mom, and his four siblings have been safely convoying a local marsh pond for at least 10 days.

All are quick to dart into the cattails at the slightest disturbance. Credit, as usual, goes to Mom; she must be ever-diligent and her babes must be well-trained. A young animal’s life often depends on its unthinking and immediate response to parental commands – Silence! Scatter! Hide! Come!

Their pond has no snapping turtles, as far as we know. However, we do have Ospreys and Bald Eagles – neighbors that appear to think that puffy duckling is the perfect hors d'oeuvre to have before a fish dinner.  (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Spring Sermons

There were a lot of preachers in our dry woods Sunday – and all of them not only were named Jack, each seemed to be praying for rain. Graceful Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants are popping up all over the boggier parts of the forest, with their spadices (“Jacks”) standing tall in their spathes (“Pulpits”).

The plants are lovely, but dangerous: their leaves are significant irritants to humans and can be toxic to horses, dogs, and cats. Nonetheless, Native Americans used the plants’ roots to treat rheumatism and snake bites.

Oh, didn’t we tell you? It rained hard Monday (yesterday) and is still doing so as we speak. (Brooklin, Maine) Go Caps!

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch II

Angelique motored into Great Cove at dusk Wednesday (May 30) with her famous tanbark-colored sails furled. This was the first night of a "Three-Night Wildlife Cruise" on this windjammer out of Camden, Maine. Thursday dawned on her in the Cove as most of her passengers slept.

After breakfast, some of Angelique's passengers rowed themselves ashore for a short visit to the WoodenBoat campus and its store:

We got to see her full beauty about 11 a.m., when Angelique departed under almost full sail.

She was built in 1980 for the tourist trade and meant to look very old, but have modern conveniences – including a metal hull. Angelique is 130 feet long overall and the only Maine windjammer that is configured as a gaff-rigged topsail ketch.

Her sails’ color is part of her old look. When sails were made of cotton, the sailcloth often was dipped in tree bark tannin to protect against rot; the resulting red-brown color was (and is) called tanbark. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Karaoke Time

Gray Catbirds usually hide in dense bushes and trees, where their slate gray bodies and black caps become part of the shadows. This fellow here was an exception for a few seconds.

Male Catbirds do a lot of what they think is singing. They are intense, imaginative mimics, but we wouldn’t call them melodic. Males have been known to perform 10 straight minutes without repeating a phrase (unlike Northern Mockingbirds, which repeat).

A virtuoso Catbird has a repertoire of more than 100 sounds, including its rough versions of other birds’ songs, frog croaks, local machine noises, and what sounds to us like Rap Music.

One of the non-song sounds that Catbirds make is “Mew” and they often repeat it like a mantra – “Mew, Mew, Mew, Mew” – which is why they’re not called Dogbirds. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Never Give Up

Something happened yesterday that was literally important to a few and symbolically important to many. It was a day of resurrection: Dear Abbie:, a significant part of our fishing fleet, came back to life.

In January, a vicious, high-wind ice storm swept Naskeag Harbor. Dear Abbie: got wrenched from her mooring, drifted, grounded, and was relentlessly beaten and crippled by the elements. Around here, that’s a heartbreaker, even if you’re not a fisherman whose life revolves around his or her boat. Here's an image of the original vessel powering into Naskeag Harbor on a cold winter's day:

Her Captain, Scott Keenan, and her family began a rebuilding process at our Atlantic Boat Company.

Yesterday, the sparkling Dear Abbie: was launched with, among other things, a new hull, reconfigured cabin, and more powerful engine.

The rumor is that she’s “Hot” and will do well in the Lobster Boat Races. (Brooklin, Maine)

May Postcards From Maine

Let’s begin with a description of a May day here. Morning, especially in early May, often arrives wrapped in a soft fog:

By mid-morning, a May day can be eye-squintingly bright,:

By evening, if we’re lucky, we’ll have a golden orange sunset. May is the month when the setting sun is directly behind nearby Pumpkin Island Lighthouse for a few days:

As the orange sky darkens – blue, to royal blue, to black –  a May day can exit by displaying a spectacular moon. The full moon on May 29 was one of those days:

On a day-by-day basis, May is a month of extraordinary flora growth. Here are images of local Skunk Cabbage, Ostrich Fern, and Arrow Arum, comparing their size in the first week ("before") and on the last day of May ("after"):

Part of that May growth was because we had good April rain (and snow!). Here’s a local woods’ stream surging through its mossy banks during the first half of May:

May is for romantic birds, many of them migrants from well south of us. Among  the migrants were the feisty male Red-Winged Blackbirds and their demure, finch-like mates; spring warblers, including this Northern Parula, and Tree Swallows; local Loons had to decide whether to migrate to a lake or stay in coastal waters:

Among the four-legged creatures around here were munching Chipmunks, basking Painted Turtles, climbing Porcupines, and Harbor Seals that lurked like U-boats at the mouth of Patten Stream as the Alewives returned to fresh water:

On the waterfront, WoodenBoat School Alumni and Staff worked hard to prepare for June classes. Mooring gear had to be cleaned and positioned in Great Cove for the School’s summer fleet, a few of which were moored and bobbing in the Cove by very late May:

The schooner Stephen Taber out of Rockland, Maine, began her (and our) summer season with a visit to Great Cove on Memorial Day weekend:

May also is the month to visit the University of Maine’s bog boardwalk in Orono to see some of the less common flora, including wild Calla Lilies, Cotton Grass, and Lady’s Slippers:

Starting about mid-May, the flowering trees blossom, including white and pink Crabapple, Dogwood, Lilac, and Star Magnolia:

Finally, at the very end of May, the Lupines start to bloom, ushering in June, when their cones will be densely packed with bright blue, pink, and white pea-like flowers:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Loony

Common Loons are now fishing in abundance in Great Cove. This one had discarded his boring winter garb and was wearing his svelte black and white summer outfit a few days ago. He had not quite yet gotten his summer red eyes to top things off.

These birds were not named Loons because of their lunatic-like wailing at the moon; they apparently got their name from the Old English word “lumme,” meaning a “lummox” (clumsy person). Their powerful legs are set way back on their body and, without water to prop them up, they’re very clumsy on land.

However, that design, a good pair of lungs, and solid (weighty) bones make them one of our best water diving birds. They can quickly dive over 200 feet and hold their breath about eight minutes. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Sensational

We were traveling the coast after having a delicious pizza on the lawn at Tinder Hearth when the light began to do things that were almost too much sensory stimulation for a full stomach. The sun was reluctantly setting, burnishing the sky over the Bagaduce River into orange-gold:

As we went south, the Bucks Harbor waterfront tried unsuccessfully to hold onto the dying sunlight:

The moon -- full and big -- began to rise over the trees and fields of Brooksville and Sedgwick:

We raced to get to Naskeag Harbor and made it just in time: there she was, the full moon shooting her glitter path like a torpedo into the Harbor:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Chocolate?!

Our first visiting schooner of the season, the Stephen Taber, sailed into Great Cove Saturday afternoon and sailed out Sunday morning, as you see her here raising anchor and departing. She’s a National Historic Landmark out of Rockland, Maine.

This 110-foot windjammer was launched in 1871 and still does not have an engine. But, don’t worry about the passengers – the Stephen Taber is reputed to serve gourmet food and her visit to our Cove was part of an advertised four-day “Wine, Dine, & Chocolate Cruise.” Chocolate?!

Well, the promo says it’s Black Dinah Chocolate from Blue Hill, but they could have done just as well with chocolate from the Brooklin Candy Company.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Remembering Private Gray

We went to the Naskeag Cemetery yesterday, which we try to do each Memorial Day weekend.

As we entered, the blossoms of the crabapple tree to our left were starting to tumble onto the veteran’s flag and gravestone below the tree.

That stone was small, plain, and embedded flat into the grass; it probably was a government-issued gravestone. The stone didn’t say much about who was buried beneath it, but it said enough: it was Virgil N. Gray, an Army private from Maine during World War I who died at the age of 70 in 1961.

Thus, Virgil survived the war and died a civilian. Nonetheless, we have an expanded view of Memorial Day. We like to remember our war survivors as well as our fallen. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Outrageous

We had a major eruption on our bedroom windowsill yesterday morning. There was no noise or spewing lava, but there were plenty of bright colors. Our Hibiscus plant’s single bud opened to reveal an outrageous color combination.

These flowers contain both male (stamen) and female (pistil) organs. Historically, they apparently were used as romantic signals in Tahiti: if a woman there was wearing a Hibiscus behind her left ear, she was in a relationship; if one was behind her right ear, she was looking for a relationship. (Brooklin, Maine)