Cuz, a Mainer trapped south of the Mason/Dixon line sent me an e-mail with a subtle reminder that she looks forward to reading my blogs -- when I write -- especially those that have anything to do with New England. I will try to catch up.
First, I ask my friends in Maine to forgive me for not making contact with them even though I was in the Pine Tree State for a couple of days. Besides getting together with my family, I was really busy closing up the camp and getting ready for Sunday. Honest!
I did take some time to sit on the banks of the Penobscot river, soak in the beauty of the colorful Autumn, and journal a few thoughts . . .
The foliage peaked a few days before we arrived at the cabin. Now, leaves are falling like gentle rain drops -- some make it to the river and drift south with the current. Above normal temperatures surround me as the mercury has eked its way above the 70 degree threshold. A few insects have resuscitated enough to make lazy attempts at being a nuisance. Most of the grasses and vegetation on the ground have turned to a drab beige. On the ledges orange and blushing red bushes tremble as a breeze from the southeast surges up the river.
It has been months since we have been here. Right now the sun is staring through a thin layer of clouds as it makes a low arc from east to west. In front of me is Birch Island where for hundreds of years many species of trees have tried to set down roots and make it home, but thousands of red oaks -- unwilling to give-up their lush green leaves -- have made the island their elite community. Few outsiders are allowed.
Soon the beautiful hues will fade, and Fall's deathly shades of browns and grays will be buried beneath a cold, white blanket of snow. As impossible as it may seem, sometime in January or February the temperature will plunge 100 degrees colder than today!