In the Right Place: Ditched

Tawney wild daylilies (Hemerocallis fulva) are starting to congregate along our roadsides and elsewhere. They soon will become crowds that will wave at passing vehicles.

Occasionally, a few naturalized lemon lilies (aka long day lilies or Hemerocallis citrina) have joined the tawny wild day lilies.

Unlike true lilies that grow from delicate bulbs, tawny wild daylilies grow perennially from tough roots and runners. That means that they can be invasive. They’re native to Asia, but came here with our earliest European colonists.

These emblems of high summer are called daylilies because most of them, when they reach the flowering stage, will be opened by the touch of the sun and wither overnight. However, if it is a dark, cloudy day, many day lilies will remain closed. By the way, the wild ones also are commonly called ditch lilies due to their ability to live in roadside ditches and on other sloping surfaces.

 (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 2 [lemon] and 3 [tawny], 2023.)

In the Right Place: A Fine 4th

Despite forecasts of bad weather, yesterday was a partly sunny day and a wholly satisfactory one for those of us who celebrated Independence Day here in Brooklin, Maine. Brooklin is regionally renowned for its annual small-town July 4th celebration of summer sights, sounds, food, and fun.

As usual, the morning began with a remarkably imaginative music selection by the remarkably good Brooklin Town Band. It played under the maples on the Friend Memorial Public Library grounds, just across the street from the Brooklin General Store. While the band played on, entrepreneurial youngsters sold juices and pastries and the crowd gathered on Reach Road, awaiting the parade.

The parade started at about 10 a.m. and is shown below in its chronological order. It was led by the Brooklin Fire Department’s big red Engine 1, which — touchingly — was followed by a little red wagon for 2 children. Thereafter, came parading Uncle Sams and Aunt Sams, strolling Statues of Liberty, flag-caped celebrators, and a funny eagle mingling with fierce eagles.

Interspersed throughout, there were the usual hordes of decorated and classic vehicles, including more fire trucks from Brooklin and nearby towns.

Imaginative floats celebrated the coastal life of Brooklin, including a picnic and a fishing vessel that towed people on “water skates” instead of skis. And still more decorated vehicles.

And then, there were still more fire trucks and other vehicles.

At the virtual end of the parade, there was a fast-moving cloudburst, but this one happened to be a human one mocking our dank spring and early summer weather.

At the very end of the parade, a Brooklin rescue vehicle signaled that it was time to move to the Town Green, where the youngsters could toss a “dead” (rubber) chicken into a hole, throw a wet sponge at friends, swing at golf balls, and climb a high pole for dollars.

There also was plenty of food and gossip to be had at the Green. The “meals” consisted of barbequed chicken or pulled pork with potato salad, coleslaw, and watermelon. Hot dogs could be bought separately and, of course, they were “Maine reds.”

It was a happy coastal 4th that featured a dash of yellow lobster trap among the reds, whites and blues.

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

In the Right Place: Wrinkled Ruffians

The virtually-daily rain this week has done a job on our Beach Roses, but I’m sure that these very rugged plants will survive the deluge and just about any other thing that Climate Change can throw at them.

The plant is deemed invasive in Maine and other states. In fact, ironically, it was imported from Asia centuries ago to spread in sandy areas and stabilize erosion of New England’s shorelines. Thus, its most popular common name is Beach Rose.

The plant also is known commonly as Rugosa Rose, Japanese Rose, Ramanas Rose, and, unfortunately, Letchberry, perhaps because of its invasiveness. It’s scientific name is Rosa rugosa, which relates to its rough and wrinkled (“rugoso”) leaves. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 3, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Great Fishermen We Have Known

I spent a wet but pleasant half hour yesterday watching this great blue heron hunt at Naskeag Point.

Raindrops were puckering the water and small fish were leaping out of it every time he plunged his spear-like bill into a school. (Sex assumed; look closely for the jumping fish.) Sometimes, the heron stretched so far it was a wonder that he could stay upright.

He must have eaten at least a fish a minute. After filling up, he spread his beautiful fan-like wings and disappeared into the fog.

Great blues are our largest common wading birds. However, breeding pairs have been in steady decline, apparently due in large part to our increase in bald eagles, which prey on heron chicks. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 2, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Slick

Here you see Belford Gray in graceful repose as the incoming fog is about to envelop her. She’s a small Friendship sloop modelled after the iconic Maine fishing boats that sailed primarily in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. These beautiful vessels reportedly were first conceived and built in and around the Town of Friendship in Maine’s Muscongus Bay area.

Friendship sloops typically have a bowsprit above a sharp clipper bow, a breathtaking sheer that swoops back to low deck areas, overhanging and elliptical transoms (stern ends), and a full keel below waterline. If ever there were a three-dimensional illustrations of the word “slick,” they are it. 

The low aft portions are designed to make it easier for one or two fishermen to haul nets and traps out of the water. Note the Belford’s many halyards (ropes for hoisting sails). Typically, Friendship sloops have five sails when fully rigged. Yet, they are very maneuverable and often were left by fishermen to “sail themselves.” 

Nonetheless, the Belford is not used for fishing. She was created by a series of WoodenBoat School students and volunteers and launched in 1992 as a schooling vessel. She’s 28½ feet long with a 9½ - foot beam (widest part), according to WBS data. Her name honors Belford Gray, a WBS instructor who was a highly regarded wooden boatbuilder. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 29, 2023.) Click on image to enlarge it.

June Postcards From Down East Maine

June is when the curtains part on summer’s first act. It’s usually a flashy month of sun and fun here on the Maine coast. But not this year. The characterizing feature of June 2023 was dankness most of the month — fog, rain, and unseasonable cold, often all together, often with high winds.

The opening of the sailing season in June usually is a time for applying sunscreen; this year, it was a time for buttoning up rain gear. Nonetheless, tourists still cruised the foggy coast in windjammers and gamely rowed back and forth to and from the classic vessels as part of rainy adventures ashore.

It goes without saying that sailing classes at the WoodenBoat School must have included lessons in foul weather seamanship.

However, we did have a few sunny June days to remind us that it was summer and provide a few spectacular memories. There were several brilliant dusks when activity in Great Cove appeared joyous; there also were mornings of reflected blue skies and, sometimes, we glimpsed the drama of wind filling big sails as storm clouds were forming.

There also were a few precious sunny scenes of clouds stampeding over Mount Cadillac in Acadia National Park; water lily pads rising; sun-dappled wooded paths; deciduous trees sending new leaves into a blue sky, and regiments of purple lupines standing at attention as we passed by.

One benefit of June’s precipitation was that it refreshed our abnormally dry May soil, improved pond levels and stream flows, and transformed drying bogs and ponds into pooling playgrounds for reptiles and amphibians.

As for the wildlife, June is a birthing month for many wild animals, including the birds who migrate here primarily to breed. That would include our ospreys that nest atop very tall trees and platforms where they are exposed to all of the elements that affect our coast.

Above, you see a handsome osprey that we’ve named Ozzie maneuvering on a clear day. Below. you’ll see Harriet, Ozzie’s mate, during a rain shower, briefly leaving their offspring, David and Ricky, who will be home alone for a few minutes with no mother’s wings to shelter under.

There are many ways of getting the feathered youngsters ready for their long flight south in the fall. For example, mallard duck mothers take on the sole responsibility of teaching their ducklings about life; common eider duck mothers form a “crèche” or nursery school with other, nonbreeding females.

June also is when many of the summer insects emerge, which is just fine for nesting tree swallows and red-winged blackbirds that have mouths to feed.

On the working waterfront, June and early July are the traditional opening times of the coastal lobster season. Masts and booms for dredging (“dragging for”) scallops have been removed from the vessels and traps are taken out of storage and loaded onto the boats.

Moving from the sea to the woods, June is when the delicate star flowers twinkle, Jack-in-the pulpits publicly pray, and bunchberry flowers huddle.

In the fields, wild iris emerge in June in their yellow flag and blue flag forms; hawkweed swoops up in its orange and yellow forms, buttercups fill with rain, and daisies brighten dark days and compete with lupines in a contest to show which can be more invasive.

In the ponds, wild fragrant water lilies glow on dark June days and arrow arum aims its weapons at the sky.

The flowers of bordering beach roses and wild blackberry bushes emerge from the thorny plants in June

Of course, June is when garden flowers start to show their stuff. Among the more spectacular this June were the peonies, poppies, and bearded iris.

Finally, we leave you with this thought: Despite the dankness, June was colorful in its own, complicated way.

(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during June of 2023.)

In the Right Place: By Gulley

Here’s an unusual vessel about to launch at Naskeag Point and motor up to Great Cove to moor. She’s a stitch-and-glue constructed Lichen 20 designed to be easily transported and to sail primarily in relatively calm waters.

Her name is Gulley Jimson, the name of the talented but disreputable artist in Joyce Cary's novel The Horse's Mouth (1944). She’s a 20-foot cruising sailboat with a pram (flat) bow for extra cabin space, a vee-bottomed hull for a good draft, and a relatively narrow 7’8” beam (widest width) for “trailerability.”  

Gulley also has a large open cockpit, a mast that pivots up or down on a tabernacle, extra-large portholes, and a huge “barn-door” rudder. She was designed and built by Sam Devlin, who has a boatbuilding company on the shores of the Puget Sound in Washington and who is part of the faculty at the WoodenBoat School. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 19 and 24, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Dank Days

Except for a few spectacularly beautiful days, this June has been one of our foggiest, chilliest, and rainiest summer first acts in years. If this weather keeps up, we may hit a dankness record.

On the other hand, our soil was abnormally dry and our stream flows were low until recently. As you see here, our bogs have returned from drying to pooling and our wooded streams are overflowing. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 27, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Maneuverable Classrooms

The WoodenBoat School’s Elements of Sailing I class started Monday in fog and otherwise semi-foul weather, and it looks like the class might continue in that kind of weather or worse until it ends on Friday.

Nonetheless, based on what I saw yesterday, the participants seem to be learning quite a bit of seamanship and enjoying their sails in Great Cove.

The class members sail 12 ½ - foot Herreshoffs and Havens, which are very maneuverable and safe. The listed class subjects include getting underway, maneuvering through the points of sail, keeping on course, tacking, mooring, and docking, among other things.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 27, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Opening Acts

Peonies are starting to bare their souls here, even in the rain. For those who like garden flowers that are big, dramatic, varied, and long-living, peonies are a good choice. Some plants reportedly have produced flowers for more than 100 years.

Peonies (usually pronounced “PEE-uh-knees”) are named in honor of Paeon, the Greek god of medicine; and, indeed, their flowers and other parts have been used in Asian medicines and teas for centuries. The roots of white peonies are among the oldest known traditional Chinese medicines.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 22, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Black Magic

Sometimes, when the sky grays over and the fog rolls in, the still pond waters blacken severely, but their wild water lilies burn brightly for awhile. It’s magical.

Our native Fragrant Water Lilies (Nymphaea odorata) are blooming now. Their pads are leaves that grow on flexible stalks arising from submerged roots (“rhizomes”). These lily pads attract insects and become floating al fresco cafes for small frogs and birds. Underneath the pads, fish and aquatic invertebrates, such as dragonfly nymphs, enjoy the shade on sunny days.

The genus name for the water lily, Nymphaea (“nim-FYE-ah”), is derived from the Greek and Roman name for “water lily,” which, in turn, originated as a reference to mythological water nymphs. The species name of our wild native is odorata (“o-dor-RAH-ta”), which means “fragrant,” as you probably guessed. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 25, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Dismally Dry

Despite a disproportionately large number of wet, dank, and dismal spring days, our stream levels are low and their flows weak.

In fact, summer has begun in an officially “Abnormally Dry” condition for us here on Maine’s Down East coast and several other regions in the State, according to the latest U.S. Drought Monitor:

We’re supposed to have a rainy week; Let’s hope things improve before we get to the drought stage. (Photograph taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: A Good Day to Sail

Here you see the schooner Mary Day gliding into Great Cove with her jibs down at sundown on Thursday. She overnighted and her passengers were ferried to the WoodenBoat School campus, which they toured. She was on a four-day cruise that included visiting Down East lighthouses, according to her schedule.

Meanwhile, the schooner Stephen Taber snuck into the Cove Thursday without us seeing her initially and also overnighted off of Babson Island not far from Mary Day..

Mary is a 125-foot schooner out of Camden, Maine. She has classic mercantile coastal cruiser lines, but was built in 1962 just for passenger cruises. (She reportedly has heat in every tourist cabin.) She was built in South Bristol, Maine, and named after the wife of the late Captain Havilah Hawkins, Senior, who designed the vessel and owned her for about 20 years. She drew the attention of a a Coastal Kayaking class from the WBS.

The 110-foot Stephen Taber was built in 1871 and is a National Historic Landmark that now hails from Rockland, Maine. Curiously, she was named after a once-famed, but now forgotten,19th Century New York politician. As with many coastal cargo cruisers in the 1800s, the Taber was built with a flat bottom to “ground out” and discharge her cargo at low tide without the need for a pier. She does have a centerboard to lower as a keel during cruising, but has no motor. She was pushed out of the the Cove and into the wind by her motorized yawl boat, Babe, at about 10:30 a.m.

The Mary Day, on the other hand, raised her two mainsails, a top sail, and a jib, turned to have the wind aft and sailed off at about 12:15 p.m.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 22 and 23, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 7

Ozzie and Harriet have produced at least one nestling and probably more that I haven’t been able to see yet. Here’s an extreme enlargement of the young, red-eyed raptor that popped up very briefly from under Harriet’s right wing Wednesday (lower left).

As usual, we’ve named this first born/seen bird David for descriptive convenience. Harriet and David seem to be healthy and contented.

Ozzie also seems healthy and contented; he spends a lot of time flying and perching near the nest and visits it frequently, albeit briefly.

Here are images of him rising handsomely from the nest yesterday:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 21 and 22, 2023.)

In the Right Place: To Stand Still

Yesterday was the first day of summer here and she decided to begin her performance with a dazzling display of bravura: a big blue sky populated with a tasteful number of cumulus clouds, slight breeze off the sea, and a high temperature of 69 degrees (F).

In the image above, as the lupines start to fade on Amen Ridge, we take our first summer view over Blue Hill Bay to watch Mount Cadillac in Acadia National Park attract some of its cloud fans.

In the image below, as the water lilies start to appear, we watch summer begin in the WoodenBoat School’s marsh pond.

As you probably know, yesterday was also known as the summer solstice, which seems fitting when looking at these images. “Solstice” combines the Latin words for “Sun” (sol) and for “To Stand Still” (sistere) because the sun reaches its highest point of the year and provides its longest period of light on the first day of summer. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Tall Tales

If you’re wondering “What is that plant that looks like a tall buttercup growing along the roads and in the fields now?”, you’re already halfway to the answer: It’s probably “Tall Buttercup.” Not too hard to remember.

This plant, shown here, is an invasive buttercup that grows from 1 to 3 feet tall and is native to Europe and temperate Eurasia. Its scientific name is Ranunculus acris and some of its other common names are Giant Buttercup, Meadow Buttercup, and Common Buttercup, but it is most commonly called Tall Buttercup.

Tall Buttercup apparently arrived here (perhaps unknowingly) with our earliest European settlers, because there are reports of Native Americans using the plant for medicines: Abenaki and Micmac (or Mi’kmaq) peoples ground and sniffed the plant as a headache remedy, the Cherokee used it for poultices to put on abscesses, and the Iroquois used it in poultices for colds and chest pains, among other uses.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 12 and 20, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Basking Cases

We had some sun yesterday for the first time in awhile. Although the sunshine played peek-a-boo, our painted turtles were out basking in force. We had five PTs in our main pond, alone.

Basking is critical behavior for freshwater turtles. Being cold-blooded, they need to warm up to function normally and dry out and receive beneficial ultraviolet rays to prevent fungal infections. Absorbing vitamin D also helps keep them in condition, especially their shells, according to reports. Here’s one basking between two dragonflies that are also warming up on a heated rock:

Painted turtles (Chrysemys picta) have existed and presumably been basking for at least 15 million years, according to fossil records. These common natives to the United States evolved into four geographical subspecies during the last glacial age, which ended almost 12 thousand years ago. Maine’s subspecies, shown here, is the Eastern painted turtle, Chrysemys picta picta. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 19, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Flower Flag Day

Wild Blue Flag Iris are blooming now in our damper areas, sometimes pleasantly sprinkled with the yellow of Buttercups, as you see here:

This small iris, Iris versicolor (“variously-colored iris”), is a native to the Northeastern United States and Eastern Canada. It’s also known as Harlequin Blueflag, Larger Blue Flag, and Northern Blue Flag. It’s especially attractive in the rain:

Blue Flag Iris has a nemesis: Yellow Flag Iris, an invasive species native to Europe, Western Asia and Northwest Africa that has escaped gardens and has naturalized itself in the wilds that Blue Flag likes. Here’s one:

This yellow-flowered plant is scientifically named Iris pseudoacorus. The epithet pseudoacorus means "false acorus," which refers to the similarity of the yellow iris’s leaves to those of Acorus calamus, which is commonly called Sweet Flag, but is not an iris. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 16 and 18 [2nd Blue Iris], 2023.)

In the Right Place: Rain & Shine & Rain

This June on the Down East coast seems to be on the way to breaking the record for the number of miserable days in a month. I’m talking about unseasonably cold, foggy, and wet weather – days when our horizon was shortened to several hundred feet of dismal gray, our clothes and spirits were dampened, and our minds were having flashbacks to November.

Here, you see a huddled mass of wet tourists diligently rowing back to their sailing vessel after exploring the WoodenBoat School on a recent cold and wet June morning in Great Cove:

Having complained, I must admit that this June has had her moments. We’ve occasionally awakened in an iconic Maine June morning that made our souls ache with the simple joy of being. I’m talking about a few seasonably clear mornings when the air smelled slightly of salt and the distant horizon balanced a big blue sky atop a bluer sea that was painted with reflections of graceful creations:

But, of course, it’s raining as I write this.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 14 [rain] and 16 [shine], 2023.)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 6

I think that nestlings have hatched. Harriet is more vocal and no longer lies low and flat; most of the time, she hunches over something(s) now.

Also, Ozzie is spending more time near and on the nest:

I can’t peer into the nest, so I’ll have to wait until the nestlings get near an edge (if there are nestlings) to see them. It’s time for them, I think! (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 16, 2023.) See also the image in the first Comment space.