The patches of color in the trees are still overwhelmed by shades of green, and while most summer flowers have disappeared, there are still surprises lurking.
Color...
The autumnal equinox has arrived, and in spite of this week's heat, signs of fall are emerging. It doesn't feel like this will be a stellar color season; there are many areas where the bright greens of summer seem to be wearing a tinge of brown. And yet...
I did notice patches of bright yellows and reds as I drove to work today. And there are several trees right outside of my window that are dressed in bright yellow. Today's wind caused some of those leaves to fly through the air though.
I have to admit that I have very mixed feelings about this season. I love the colors, but I hate the transition to bare branched trees. And while somewhat cooler temperatures are pleasant, I'm no where near ready for the cold of winter. Hopefully the real chill will hold off for a while yet. After all, it is only the end of September...
Funny, I keep having arguments with myself about the best (shortest?) way to drive from home to Bar Harbor. And I keep trying the other way. Maybe next year I'll remember...
When I headed up to Maine for the start of my just finished trip, I jumped off of the highway to follow route 1 from Brunswick to Camden. That made sense, no question about the best route to follow in that direction.
But coming home? That's another story. My end point in Maine was Bar Harbor. I've driven from Bar Harbor to Bangor, picking up I-95 there for the journey home, and I've also followed the coast from Bar Harbor to Belfast before heading inland to pick up I-95 in Augusta. Which way is better? That depends...
On a good day (good as in good lighting conditions and probably dry roads), the drive up route 3 from Belfast to Augusta can be beautiful. And as for the distance, the road from Bar Harbor to Ellsworth to Belfast to Augusta is about 15 miles shorter than the road from Bar Harbor to Ellsworth to Bangor to Augusta. (Oh, you want to know why I said about? Because I got the distances from Google maps as opposed to driving or riding and checking the actual distance. You mileage may vary...)
Yesterday, I followed route 1 to Belfast and then turned inland. And once again I am convinced that it would have taken less time if I'd headed to Bangor and jumped on I-95 sooner.
I've had this discussion with myself many times before, probably every time I've gone to Bar Harbor. Let's see if next spring when I (probably) head out for an Acadia fix if I remember that driving through Bangor makes more time sense.
Are you looking for me? Wondering why there are no new blog entries?
I'm on the road, wandering on my bike, feeding my photo desires, absorbing the sights of coastal Maine. If you'd like to follow along as I travel, please visit my cycling journal:
A coastline beckons.
The calendar says it is still summer, but...
The days are growing noticeably shorter, the temperature is dropping, the flowers and leaves are changing. Signs of fall are in the air. I'm not ready, but the weather wizard marches on.
I awoke this morning to the sound of heavy rain. Luckily my newspaper was still dry, wrapped in layers of plastic, time for a Sunday morning relaxation - a cup of tea, breakfast, and the Sunday paper...
The rain stopped, pavement dried, and my bicycle was calling to me. I started to head out just as the rain started falling again. OK, OK, I'll wait a while. The rain lasted just a short time. I waited for the pavement to dry once more, and then I rolled out on my bike for a short loop. After all, I didn't want to tempt the weather wizard for too long.
Home again, still restless... I decided to head to the coast with my camera. Walking on the beach, watching the birds and the ocean is a sure cure for restlessness. I was just two miles from home when the rain started again. Instead of turning back, I kept driving, hoping that the rain was localized. It was, and I had a good hour to walk along the beach before the rain started once more. Ah...
...as the sky changes.
It was a hot day, temperatures in the mid-90s, a day sporting a bright blue sky decorated with a few white clouds. Thunderstorms were predicted, and thunderstorms visited. It was pure luck that I was able to catch the sky just as dark gray clouds started to make their beautiful appearance. And ah, that storm ushered in much cooler temperatures. Wonderful.
It seems odd that summer wildflowers are still unfolding. Some flowers are disappearing into skeletons, and yet...
A quiet beginning...
The light was growing dimmer as I sat alone on the porch. My tears flowed in grief, and my thoughts turned to memories of my brother. Thoughts bouncing, grief interspersed with memories of happy times, with relief that he is finally out of pain.
As I sat in silence, I had a wonderful visitor. A hummingbird hovered not far from me, looking at the blossoms of a hanging plant, darting to take a drink, hovering once more. She seemed close enough to touch...
My mother told me that at one time Neal had a hummingbird feeder in his back yard, but that he never saw any of these tiny visitors. Oh Neal - these beautiful creatures apparently prefer your flowers. Or was the hummingbird who visited tonight a vision of you?
An open letter to my brother...
Death, peace... they may seem to some to be opposites, but to me they are truly intertwined.
A sorrowful end to a too-short life, and yet... I'm so glad you are finally out of pain. I'm sorry that you're no longer here to share the joy of our lives, but yes, I'm glad your pain is gone. My tears aren't gone, but I know that they will eventually recede into the background, just as I know that my memories of you will stay, will be a comfort, and will at times even make me laugh.
The last time I saw you was yesterday, but the last time that you were able to speak to me was a week ago, on August 25th. The last thing you said to me on that day was "Don't worry, I'll be OK. I love you." A loving goodbye... that was so in character. To the end you kept your focus outward, worrying about others instead of yourself.
And, oh Neal, I'll remember you; I'll carry you in my heart forever.
