In the Right Place: Delighting the Dead

There are two trees in the Brooklin Cemetery that are spectacular now, one because of its leaves, the other because it has dropped its leaves. This is how the leafy one appeared on Thursday afternoon (October 22):

It’s a mature Japanese Maple cultivar (probably Acer palmatum, sub. palmatum) in the southwestern corner of the Cemetery. This tree, which has Asian family origins, apparently has reached its maximum height of about 35-plus feet and, therefore, is old for its type. These trees grow about one foot a year until they reach maturity and have been known to live more than 100 years. We have been unable to find the history of its planting.

The other spectacular tree in the Cemetery also is a cultivar that has family origins in Scotland. It’s a Camperdown Elm (Ulmus glabra “Camperdownii”) that commands the middle of the Cemetery. Unlike the Japanese Maple, this Elm loses its small leaves early and extends its sinuous branches as if in a blessing. Here’s an image of it taken yesterday:

We also have been unable to find the history of this beauty’s planting. Any help on the history of these trees would be appreciated. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Sweet Sorrow

Here, we see the Fishing Vessel Christopher Devin II at the Town Dock in Naskeag Harbor on misty Wednesday (October 21). Her traps are being unloaded for winter storage. Her lobster season apparently is over. It can be a poignant moment for fishermen, sort of sad relief, we hear.

However, Christopher Devin is one of the FVs that usually has a winter season for dredging Atlantic scallops. She gets refitted with a mast and boom for the dredging net and a temporary shelling hut is fitted behind the cabin to shelter crew members who shuck the delicious mollusks on cold, windy days. Here’s an image of Christopher Devin last year in her scalloping rig is in the first Comment space:

This year, the announced scalloping season here is from November to April, with most areas limited to 15 gallons of shucked scallops a day. There are different times and rules for boat dredging and SCUBA diving for “Divers’ Scallops.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Just Pigmenting in the Rain

Posted on FaceBook October 22, 2020

Here, we’re on Flye Point yesterday in a soft rain. We’re looking across a wild (“low-bush”) blueberry field; and, in the distance, we see cloudy Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park across Blue Hill Bay.

Below, we see one of our country lanes soaking up yesterday’s rain.

The yellows and reds of autumn bush and tree leaves seem subtler in the rain, as if they were new brush strokes that need working. The yellows in fall leaves come when their dominant green chlorophyll pigments are lost due to seasonal weather, allowing their yellow carotenoid pigments to be seen. The reds in leaves come from a pigment called anthocyanin, which some plants produce in the cool autumn temperatures. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Stanley

We met this straw man on Monday (October 19) in the back acres of Mainescape in Blue Hill. He was quarrelsome and refused to tell us his name, so we baptized him Stanley. He kept arguing with us by stating a fallacy and then easily refuting it.

For example, when we doubted that he could survive heavy rainstorms, Stanley retorted: “Everyone says it rains heavily every day here, but the official records show that’s untrue.” We told him that form of false response has been called a “straw man argument” or “toppling a man of straw argument” since at least 1620. He replied that we were not alive in 1620 to hear that. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Rarity

We looked out the window yesterday evening and saw this beautiful sunset afterglow over Great Cove, with a cameo performance of the moon in crescent form. It was like a Christmas card without wishes for Peace on Earth, Good Will to All, or Joy to the World. Perhaps that’s appropriate these days.

The moon soon will be performing a complicated role in October’s play. As you see it here, it’s in its “waxing crescent” phase (waxing meaning its illuminated part is getting larger). On October 31, it will be full. That is, we’ll have a full moon on Halloween to delight witches and goblins.

It also will be the second full moon in the month, so that will make it a rare “Blue Moon” on Halloween. (The next time that will happen is in 2039.) But wait, there’s more: By a quirk in our calendar, it also will be the year’s “Harvest Moon,” bright enough to bring in crops. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Proud Smiles

Last year, we had a bumper crop of Winterberries and, so far, it looks like this year will be as good or better than last year. (The images here were taken this morning.)

According to New England folklore, a profusion of Fall Winterberries means that a tough winter is coming. That didn’t happen last winter and our bet is that it won’t happen this year.

When the Winterberry plants’ leaves fall, the berries stand out in the winter landscape and last a long time if there are other foods for wildlife. The red fruits are not very nutritious, but are the default survival food for a reported 49 species of birds, deer, raccoons, and mice. Those berries only appear on the females of these deciduous holly bushes; the nearby Winterberry plants without berries (but with proud smiles on their faces) are the males. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Flying Lessons

Yesterday morning, sheets of rain came in over the sea, sometimes riding wind gusts of over 40 miles per hour. Our rain chain became a real swinger.

We, of course, went outside, camera in hand. Not because we’re crazy, although a case could be made there. We did it because many of our brightest fall-colored leaves were being given involuntary flying lessons. We wanted to document some of them on the branch before they became compost.

Above, you see our Stewartia Tree in the rain before some of her leaves were ripped from her. Below, you’ll see images of Redvein Enkianthus bushes in yesterday’s deluge, still with most of their leaves and fruit intact.

Our Viburnum turns brilliant red and, sometimes, burgandy purple before the leaves fall, while the similarly-shaped Clethra leaves turn yellow:

The Winterberry seems to be doing well this year, as it did last year. Soon, its leaves will be gone, but the berries will remain as winter bird food.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Bearing Signs

Here we see the Fishing Vessel Time Out II and two of her seagull admirers.

She was coming and going in Great Cove on Wednesday, October 14.

We couldn’t tell whether she was trapping lobsters or taking up her traps to end the season. In any case, she proudly bears the signs of a busy 2020 lobster fishing season and always is good to see in the Cove.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Pallid

We went out yesterday to record local leaf performances. Mid-October here is supposed to be our fall color peak. Well, with a few exceptions, our peak has been pallid. Some of the early-turning trees have been blown nude by severe wind and rainstorms. Others are late turning, probably due to the drought that we had most of the summer.

Some trees, such as the above local sugar maples, made a good effort, but got scalped by recent winds. Nonetheless, even pallid leaves sailing in blue water can be a remarkable reminder of fall:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Great Legs

This Greater Yellowlegs Sandpiper (Tringa melanoleuca) was working the waterline in Great Cove yesterday morning at high tide.

Her name begs the question: Greater than what? (Sex assumed.) Well, she’s greater (that is, about four inches longer) than her cousin the Lesser Yellowlegs Sandpiper (Tringa flavipes). Today’s visitor does have a great set of legs that allow her to resist small waves and stand in deeper water than her cousin:

The thin, yellow-streaming legs attached to Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs Sandpipers earned them the most disgusting collective name in bird terminology – a group is called an “Incontinence of Yellowlegs.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: A Play with No Words

Act One. It’s October 8. We’re driving down Naskeag Road and a hawk – looks like it’s a broadwing – flies low across the road and into a deserted country lane. We follow and get out of the car near the beginning of the lane to search the trees. It’s sunny with breezes that chill the face just a little. Rustling leaves, most still green, arch over the lane in many places. They catch the light on one side of the lane and, on the other, create shadows that reach across it. We’re alone, except for a well-hidden hawk. But, we’re enjoying our solitude without the need wonder why.

Act Two. There’s movement on the lane about a quarter of a mile away, coming slowly toward us. We can’t make out what it is. It soon becomes a man of a certain age hunched-over his cane. He’s walking slowly, seemingly with difficulty. He comes on relentlessly, wading through pools of light and shade. His head is down; he apparently sees only the ground a few feet in front of him. He doesn’t see us.

Act Three. We worry about the proper thing to say when the hunched-over man reaches us. Then, we realize that he seems to be enjoying his solitude in his own way. We decide not to intrude. We get into the car, close the door softly, back up, and drive away. He never saw us. We regret not having talked to him. The hawk wins again.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Hot and Cold

This is last night’s afterglow following sunset over Great Cove.

As the months get colder, the sundown colors get warmer. By November, some of our afterglows will be blood red. For example , here’s a November 17, 2019, image of part of the same area:

The warmer light apparently is due to the changing rotational angle from which the sunlight passes through the sky’s color spectrum to get to us. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Seeing Red

We were in the mood to see some fall colors today. Most of our trees are not at their color peak yet, but wind and rain already have taken a toll on leaves and we’re never sure that we shall have a peak.

As usual, we visited this majestic red maple that has outgrown the North Sedgwick Baptist Church; it has been a favorite fall sight for a long time.  (We haven’t been able to find reliable information about the tree’s age. Perhaps one of you knows its age. We do know that the Church was built in 1843 and red maples (Acer rubrum) have been known to live more than 300 years.)

Among other places, we also visited the blueberry fields down the road from the Church.:

(North Sedgwick, Maine)

In the Right Place: Really Rocking

This is low tide in Great Cove’s intertidal zone on Friday (October 9). The “Rockweed” is living up to its name by clinging to its steadfast best friends.

There are several types of rock-anchored seaweed commonly called Rockweed. The one that you see here is our most abundant one, Knotted Wrack (Ascophyllum nodosum). Its “knots” are little air bladders that float its “blades” up to the surface to become waving fans in the rising tide.

Leighton Archive Image

Knotted Wrack and other Rockweeds are boarding houses for a variety of marine life at low and higher tides. They attach themselves to rocks with their “holdfasts,” toe-like growths that can paste themselves securely to hard surfaces. They are neither weeds nor true plants; they’re marine algae that host other lives and are, themselves, foods and ingredients for manufactured products, including fertilizer. Whether and how Rockweed should be commercially harvested is a controversial issue here. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Blowin' in the Mild

We’re getting a proper cleansing. Today is the third consecutive day that powerful winds have been sweeping across the sea and up onto coastlands. Thirty-mile-an-hour-plus gusts blew the caps off whitecaps Thursday (October 8):

Yesterday, sailboats were bucking and pitching at their moorings and fishing vessels coming into Naskeag Harbor were creating their own whitecaps:

By today, some trees are being denuded before they can display their fall fashions, while those that still were wearing summer greens others are holding on tightly.:

Yet, the weather has been unseasonably mild otherwise. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Silent Rage

Cinnamon Fern seems to follow Dylan Thomas’s advice: It does not go gently; it burns and raves and rages against the dying of light, turning from soft green, to pale yellow, then to proud gold before it dies with shriveling bronze gasps. This is happening all around us now.

This relatively large fern, scientifically known as Osmundastrum cinnamomeum, often is referred to as a living fossil because its kind has been on the earth at least 180 million years. As North America became populated, the Abnaki and Menominee ate it as a vegetable; the Iroquois and Cherokee also administered it as a cold and snake bite remedy.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Just Thinking

We glimpsed this fisherman looking at the sparkles in Naskeag Harbor yesterday and immediately thought of “The Thinker.” That’s Auguste Rodin’s huge bronze statue of a man sitting on a rock in a similar position, now on display in Paris.

The main difference is that the Paris Thinker is nude, while the Brooklin Thinker is wearing his hoody, orange oil pants, and more. Clearly, our man made the right choice for someone who probably soon will be out on the chilly water unloading lobsters from traps.  Yet, there may be more to this story: there is a lot for a young man to think about these days, perhaps too much. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Amazement

We cleared this area of tall trees, restored the rock wall, and dug out the pond to recreate, in part, the sheep pasture that reportedly was here in the 1800s.

It’s now a place for deer to range; summer birds to nest; coyotes to howl at night; bear cubs to walk on top of the wall; butterflies and millions of other insects to live out their lives; turtles to bask; ducks to paddle, and humans to be amazed – once again -- by the beauty of a good fall day.

Yesterday was one of those days, as you can see. While sitting on Flat Rock behind the pond in the afternoon, you could gulp delicious air as the sunlight softened. You could look up and down and watch stratocumulus clouds streak across the sky and the pond below.

It was a day to notice a maple leaf taking its first and last solo voyage, spiraling into the pond, and reaching, tacking, and taking on water as it sailed alone in the shifting winds.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Memories in the Making

This sight, as you may know, is one of the wonderful local sights that we photograph at least once a month for our long-term visual record of the area. It’s Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park, as viewed from Brooklin’s Amen Ridge over Blue Hill Bay.

This image was taken Saturday (October 3) as trains of cumulous clouds streamed north. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Foggy Friday

Fishing, one of the original small businesses, has its phases. Friday (October 2), as shown here, was take-home-the-traps-day for some.

It was a family/team affair for those associated with lobster fishing in Long Set, the Fishing Vessel seen here giving up her traps while tied to the Town Pier. A dense fog seemed to make the sight classic.

With or without fog, this is a typical sight at this time of the year here, when fishermen (male and female) are ending their lobstering seasons. Some of the boats, probably including Long Set,  will be refitted for scallop dredging in the winter season; some will be hauled ashore and kept “on the hard” for the winter while other jobs and chores (and a few vacations) will be pursued by fishermen. (Brooklin, Maine)