JOURNAL
It’s hard to tell whether the purple lilacs or orange azaleas are more outrageous this year. These are complementary colors on the color wheel, meaning that they’re opposites that can create interesting vibrance or jarring contrast together, depending on the beholder.
Case in point: the Clemson Tigers’ purple and orange uniforms; some say they’re awesomely impressive, others say they’re intended to make opponents throw up. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on June 2, 2025.)
Here you see the schooner “Mary Day” in Great Cove very early yesterday before her passengers awakened and before it rained. The chilling rains came, the winds didn’t, and “Mary” departed the Cove with only her two mainsails up and a push from her yawl boat. She has no internal engine.
The “Mary Day” is 125 feet overall and hails from Camden, Maine. She was built in 1962 and is a regular visitor to the renowned WoodenBoat School in Great Cove. She may have been on a private charter yesterday; her official schedule shows her beginning trips on June 8. She has the honor of being the first windjammer to visit the Cove this summer.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 1, 2025.)
May, true summer’s appetizer, was a little wetter and foggier than usual here on the coast this year. But she still managed to be her usual gorgeous and generous self: bringing us lush green grasses and leaves, coaxing out colorful buds and petals, and soothing us with warm days.
As usual, we begin our “wishing you were here” Postcards with the four iconic scenes that we monitor to record seasonal changes — the mountains breaching from Mount Desert Island; the island house peering down at Brooklin’s Naskeag Harbor; the “Blues” of the near-mountain called Blue Hill above the Town of Blue Hill, as seen across Blue Hill Bay, and the old red boathouse in Blue Hill’s Conary Cove:
Our woods and waters appeared to rejoice in their spring-to-summer passage through sun, rain, and fog:
As usual, May was a very active time for our fauna. Our fur-wearers of most interest included a young white-tailed deer buck who seemed sad for recently losing his first set of antlers, a cottontail rabbit that tried to burgle our house, a North American river otter who was tuckered out from impregnating as many females of his kind that he could find, and a pregnant doe sleeping late as the early morning sun rose:
As for feather bearers, the big drama in May was the repeated attacks by a young rogue male osprey on the nesting pair of ospreys that we monitor every year, a mature couple whom we’ve named Ozzie and Harriet. The jealous youngster who invaded the nest (and tried to do so to Harriet) was nearly killed by Ozzie, who repeatedly chased the invader off, after ripping out most of the youngster’s tail feathers and gashing him in the chest. Afterward, Ozzie and Harriet sat together in silent vigilance.
More patient males visiting the neighborhood included red-winged blackbirds who staked out territories and magnolia and other warblers who were deciding whether to stay or continue north. A great blue heron established a home base near one of our ponds; mallard drakes tried to attract mates by showing off their iridescence, and some bufflehead ducks that overwintered here decided to stay awhile.
Tri-colored bumblebees and other pollinators were very busy tending to all the new blossoms and black-capped chickadees — Maine’s state birds — complained about all newcomers:
As for our most ardent sun worshippers, painted turtles and bull frogs emerged from their murky winter quarters to enjoy the beginnings of the year’s warming radiance:
Of course, May is perhaps best known for its spectacular flora. In terms of trees and large bushes., the earliest bloomers were the subtly-hued shadblow trees with their burnished copper leaves and delicate white flowers:
Next on the color spectrum might be the gnarly old apple trees with their articulated branches and pink-cheeked buds and blossoms:
The color intensified in the plum trees, with their pink blossoms and reddish leaves, as well as in the crabapple trees with their thickly-studded branches of reds, pinks, and purples:
More subtle, yet still striking, were the less common yellow magnolia and white star magnolia flowers:
Of course, trees can be startling for reasons other than their colorful blossoms. Speciman trees such as the Camperdown elm in the Brooklin Cemetery and the weeping beech at Amen Farm leafed out fully in May:
While the yellows of forsythia flowers dropped to the ground before the end of May, the purples and whites of lilacs were emerging:
Similarly, the yellows of daffodils withered away, while the yellows of dandelions swept in:
In the sunny fields and dark woods, the bold, radiant leaves of lupine plants spread, while the delicate petals of the little star flowers searched for light:
In the bogs, the shy wild azalea known as rhodora made a modest appearance in purple while ferns and skunk cabbage boldly emerged:
In the gardens, begonias blossomed and allium buds were about to burst into flower:
The waterfront is an important area recreationally and commercially here, and much of it needs to be prepared in May for true summer’s activities. Docking floats need to be reinstalled at the ends of piers, mooring gear needs to be cleaned and returned to the depths, and boats need to be prepared and returned to where they belong.
On the commercial waterfront, May is a hiatus between scallop fishing and lobster fishing in coastal waters. Some vessels won’t take down their scallop-dredging masts and booms until June, when lobstering starts in earnest.
Finally, we consider the May full moon, traditionally named the Flower Moon for obvious reasons. This year, it was a “micromoon” — it’s orbit took it very far from us. But she still drew our tides to her and shone on trees that flowered in the darkness:
(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during May of 2025.)
This seemingly happy little guy is my first frog of the year. Initially, I thought he was a green frog. But then I noticed that he had no ridges (no “dorso-lateral folds”) running all the way down his back from directly behind his eyes, the way green frogs do. His folds just curved behind his eyes and down around his big ear (around his “tympanum”).
I now think that he may be a young American bullfrog. The ears of male bullfrogs are larger than their eyes, while those of females are equal to their eye sizes.
If and when he becomes a full-sized bullfrog, he’ll have no problem identifying green frogs – as meals. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on May 28, 2025.) Apologies to Kermit.
The lilac blossoms are starting to reach their prime here, both in pebbly beauty and intense fragrance. They’re an old-fashioned and long-lived plant, especially loved by those who like their beauty erupting in slightly wild crowds.
George Washington and Thomas Jefferson reportedly were lilac fans. (Images taken in Brooklin. Maine, on May 28, 2025.)
Summer sailing in Great Cove officially may begin.
Legendary “Martha” returned to her mooring there on Tuesday. She was the first sailboat to return to her summer home in the Cove, which soon will be colonized by many vessels. But none with her fascinating history.
Martha was built here in 1967 by the famed Brooklin naval architect and founder of the renowned Brooklin Boat Yard, Joel White. Joel built it for his even more famous father, the New York- and Brooklin-based author E.B. White (“Charlotte’s Web,” etc.). The vessel was named after Martha White, Joel’s daughter, the granddaughter of E.B. (“call me Andy”).
There’s more for those of you who are fascinated by man-made things that wander over water by wind. “Martha” is almost 20 feet long overall (19’ 9”) and has been designated as a sloop-rigged Crocker-inspired pocket cruiser. A “cruiser” is built to sail on multi-day trips; that is, it’s not just a “daysailer.” Among other things, cruisers usually have at least one berth to sleep on, a stove to cook on, and a head (toilet) to sit on.
But, being a “pocket cruiser,” “Martha” has all of the above amenities in miniaturized form, which requires exquisitely well-designed and finely built accommodations. The “pocket” designation derives from the practice of applying that term to objects that are smaller versions of usually larger things (e.g., pocketknives, pocket watches, pocket battleships, etc.).
Martha is Crocker-inspired because, when he designed it, Joel admittedly was influenced by the designs of naval architect Samuel Sturgis Crocker. S.S. Crocker, another highly-regarded naval architect, created many small and stout cutters with sharply sweeping bows. (Take another look at Martha’s magnificent bow.)
After E.B.’s death, Martha was sold by the White family to Rich Hilsinger, the long-time former Director of the WoodenBoat School here. He promised to keep her in Brooklin where she belongs and where he still lives. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 28, 2025.) See also the image in the first Comment space.
Clusters of exquisite, fragrant wild apple blossoms such as these are starting to appear in the gnarly, abandoned fruit trees that grow among weeds and shrubs along old roads and fields here. They seem to be reminders of the persistence of hope, like a pink-cheeked children’s choir in a decaying cathedral.
Most of the apples from these trees were used to make cider, according to local histories. Today, they primarily feed wildlife.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 27, 2025.)
Fittingly, our long spate of gray/foggy/rainy weather broke Sunday evening, the eve of Memorial day’s opening of unofficial summer. As you see here, the sun was sinking in the northwest, burnishing the spruce tops on Babson Island in Great Cove and creating a spruce shadow dusk in the greening north field:
Early the next morning – Memorial Day’s awakening – the rising sun reached the field from the east and revealed one of our neighbors who had spent the night there in the newly-lush wild grasses:
She decided to be lazy on the first day of summer and basked there for more than an hour before ambling away into a beautiful summer’s day. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 25 and 26, 2025.)
Today we honor the men and women, known and unknown, who died in military service. A little reflection may be in order about their service being the ultimate protection for the extraordinary privileges and rights that we all-too-often take for granted and abuse.
(Leighton Archive images taken at Arlington National Cemetery of a military honors service and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.)
Here you see a somewhat ragtag white-tailed deer that is a regular visitor. He looks like a youngster that has recently lost his first rack of antlers. I think he may be too old to be considered a “button buck” with protruding pre-antler bumps (“pedicles”), but I may be wrong.
His coat is in transition to lighter summer furs and he doesn’t yet have the haughty standoffishness of a typical white-tail male. There’s seemingly a sense of “I-didn’t-ask-to-be-a-mighty-buck about him that makes him seem vulnerable. See also the image in the first Comment space. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 5, 2025.)
Here you see Ajuga reptans flowering impressionistically in yesterday’s rain. This plant also is known by many names, especially as bugle, common bugle, bugleherb, bugleweed, carpet bugle, carpenter’s herb, ground pine, and St. Lawrence plant.
The plant is a ground cover in the Ajugeae branch of the mint family that reportedly has been used medicinally in some cultures. It’s officially listed as invasive in several areas, but not in Maine. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 23, 2025.)
Here you see some of the mooring gear – mushroom anchors and their connected buoys – for the WoodenBoat School’s fleet of small boats. The gear has been cleaned and is drying in the image. After it dried, it was reassembled and soon will be set in Great Cove, which is visible in the images.
The first two boats to go into the water probably will be those shown below. On the left is “Babson II,” an 18-foot outboard skiff; on the right is “Geronimo,” an 18-foot Westpointer. These boats are used by the WBS harbor staff to ferry students to their boats and other harbor administrative tasks.
As usual, WBS Alumni have been on campus since May 18 helping prepare classrooms, equipment, and vessels for the School’s 2025 opening on June 1. The renowned summer School attracts students from all over the world. The courses feature building wooden boats, sailing, and many other maritime-related subjects. The return of the Alumni seems to be mutually rewarding for them and the School staff.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 21 and 22, 2025.)
Find rhodora in this image.
It may be my paranoid imagination, but it seems that every year I see fewer rhodora plants in areas other than parklands or other protected preserves. Rhodora (Rhododendron canadense), also called Canada rosebay, is one of only two wild azaleas that are native to Maine.
The other native azalea is the unfortunately-named clammy azalea (Rhododendron viscosum). It has been described by Maine officials as a “rare plant” in the state, which is the northern limit of its range. But clammy azaleas are not rare to our south.
To be fair about my concerns for rhodora, she does seem intentionally evasive as well as wayward and wild. She likes wet feet and tangled bogs. Her graceful purple-pink flowers often go unseen by people, which apparently is fine with her.
But, the U.S. is losing her favorite wandering places at an alarming pace, and I worry about whether her lifestyle is disappearing. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 20, 2025.)
Painted turtles spend so much of their time basking above their own reflections that they bring to mind the Greek myth about Narcissus. He was an extraordinarily handsome man who saw his own reflection in a pool and didn’t realize that he was looking at himself. He fell in love with his own beauty, couldn’t stop looking at himself, and eventually withered into a Narcissus flower.
Painted turtles, or Eastern PTs (Chrysemys picta picta) to be more precise, probably are our most beautiful freshwater turtles for those who can expand their perceptions of beauty to reptiles. In any case, these turtles certainly are our most colorful.
Their heads, neck, and legs range from dark olive green to black, with bright yellow and red streaking. The tops of their shells (their carapaces) are dark olive with pale yellow borders around their shell plates (their scutes) and bright yellow and/or red markings at the shell borders. The bottoms of their shells (their plastrons) range from pale yellow to red-orange, sometimes with a central inkblot-like marking.
Nonetheless, painted turtles are not narcissists. They’re realists. Turtles have to bask for a number of reasons, chief of which is to regulate their cold-blooded body temperatures, especially to warm up enough to remain active. The sunlight also allows them to synthesize vitamin D3 for bone health and calcium absorption and helps avoid fungal infections.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 3 and 18, 2025.)
Here you see one of our native common shadblows, which are blossoming and leafing-out now here. These small trees and bushes also are known as common serviceberry plants in New England, among other less-used names for the various species within the genus.
The plants’ most common names come with interesting histories relating to their earliest descriptions. They’re thought to have been named “shadblows” many years ago because their flowers tend to bloom (“blow”) when American shad (fish) are ascending rivers to spawn new lives.
They’re also thought to have been called “serviceberry” trees or bushes by the first European settlers of New England. These were hardy people, but they usually found it too difficult to dig graves in the frozen ground for those who died in the winter. They reportedly held the postponed funeral “services” and burials for those deceased people when these plants bloomed and/or their berries started to form. That meant that the ground was thoroughly thawed. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 19, 2025.)
We’ve been having quite a bit of fog and light rain lately; in fact, it’s overcast here with a prediction of rain, as I write to you. We’re optimistic about seeing a sunny day once again, but apparently not as optimistic as this lying little lobster boat in the fog. (Look closely at its name.)
Actually, this Fishing Vessel “Sun’s Up” is always a bright spot in Conary Cove for drivers traveling along the coast in the spring and summer – even when it’s foggy there. Her uncommon yellow hull always stands out. (Image taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on May 17, 2025.)
We’ve been having a lot of fog and light rain lately that can darken our mood at times. But, it apparently has delighted these swaying begonias to near-revelry.
No, Cole Porter did not write a song about them. That’s “Begin the Beguine,” which is about dancing romantically to Latin music that originated in the French West Indies. However, these porch-dancing begonias also have a somewhat similar origin. They were discovered in Brazil in 1690 and named after the French botanist Michel Begon, according to the literature.
(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on May 17, 2025.)
Talk about tiny!
This fellow has a wingspan well under an inch and is sipping from a bluet, one of our smallest flowers. He’s blue on top, gray underneath, and very fluttery. I’m guessing that he’s a northern azure (Calastrina lucia) or some other azure species. Since they reclassified the little azures into many species, I have more than my usual identification problems with small butterflies and moths.
Northern azures are residents here. They’re not only tiny, they’re short-lived and have to make the most of life to propagate their species. They apparently emerge from their chrysalises throughout the spring and summer, starting about mid-May. But, once out, they reportedly live only a week or two. Females are said to mate within hours of emerging – welcome to the Lycaenidae family!. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 11, 2025.)
Above you see the WoodenBoat School pier as it appeared in Great Cove earlier this month. It’s a landmark on this part of the Down East coast. However, as with virtually all piers of this type, it’s incomplete until it’s docking float and aluminum gangway are reinstalled. They’re taken off for the winter. The gangway is stored atop the pier (look closely at the end of the pier), while the float is stored ashore in the WBS boat launching ramp.
On Wednesday (May14), this odd-looking creature appeared in the Cove:
It’s All Hutchins’ no-name workboat. Some call it the A.H. Marine Company float boat and others call it less flattering names. True, it’s not a graceful, gleaming vessel, but it is one of the most functional pieces of marine equipment you’ll find. No-name and her crew have a reputation for being among the best — if not the best — at removing and reinstalling floating docks. That’s an essential task here on the coast. Here they are Wednesday, starting to pull the large WBS docking float down the ramp and into the Cove:
Unfortunately, one of the floatation tubs under the docking float was damaged and Al and his crew had to fix it and postpone installing the float until yesterday (Thursday, May 15). Here you see them resuming dragging the float from its storage place and pushing it over to the pier yesterday:
The float has to be attached to the mooring chains that are bolted to the end granite pier pylon. Access to the chain hookups is through four wells on the float. The gangway is lifted off the pier and attached as a walkway down to the float. Then the float is cleaned with a broom and seawater:
Later in the day, as fog starts rolling in through the sun, The WBS pier is ready, willing, and able to serve students and the visiting public:
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 8 [1st image], 14, and 15, 2025)
Here you see our heroes who fought off and nearly killed a rogue male osprey who was trying to invade and steal their home last week. That’s Ozzie bringing Harriet a gift, while she appears to be horrified by his taste in furnishings. Ozzie got the hint and soon left to get Harriet a delicious fish:
Our happy homeowners had an unexciting week, which is a fabulous state of mind in osprey-land. However, I’m slightly concerned about them being behind schedule. They are still copulating regularly and Harriet does not spend all of her time in the nest. She stays upright in it and takes solo trips from the nest. At this time last year, Harriet remained lying low in the nest laying eggs and then brooding.
Harriet does, however, often beg in her nest while Ozzie is away, which is a good sign she’s in a breeding mood:
It could be that the multi-day home invasion threw their schedule off. It also could be that this year will be one of those rarities when Ozzie and Harriet produce no little prehistoric-looking raptors. Stay tuned. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 13, 2025.)
