July 31: Water Lily

A bird whose song I couldn't recognize was making noise outside my office this afternoon, so I wandered out with my binoculars to try and track it down. I never did see the bird, but I ended up at the river's edge surprised to realize that I hadn't been down there for a few months. Or at least, not recently enough to have remembered there were water lilies growing near the shore there--including one big white one in full bloom.

Water lily's beauty
amplified by the river
reflecting blue sky, clouds.

July 30: Hostas

Berries on cereal.
Hosta blossoms hum with bees.
So begins my day.

July 29: Hollyhocks

Maroon hollyhocks
along the weathered gray shed.
The past, always with us.

July 28: Long drive home

Husband at the wheel,

Red Sox on the radio

the whole drive, winning.

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July 27: Grand Lake Stream

Spent the weekend Down East in interior Washington County, at Weatherby's sporting lodge in the lakeside hamlet of Grand Lake Stream. You get there after a 3-1/2-hour drive through very rural Maine which included a Passamaquoddy Indian reservation, torrential rains, and a flooded road on the route we took. This weekend was the GLS annual arts and crafts festival, a quality event that attracts people from miles around--so the tiny town of one store is suddenly abuzz with festival-goers overwhelming (and probably overlapping with) the usual crowd of fishermen and ATVers.

 

We stayed in a little cabin at Weatherby's. Saturday we visited friends at their camp tucked into the pines on the shore of West Grand Lake. We enjoyed an afternoon cocktail on their porch while listening to the sounds of the summer lake. The sky had cleared at last ,and the lake sparkled as we rode back to town in their classic square-sterned Grand Laker canoe, just in time for dinner together at the lodge.

 

Screen door's slam, slap of

flip-flops on dock, lake warm

under my trailing hand.

 

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July 26: Short run in the morning rain

Still sore, short of breath,

but the soft summer rain

has washed my skin clean.

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July 25: Cacophony

Right now I can hear out my window, all at the same time, and loud:
2 cawing crows, one of them whiny, probably a younger bird
1 Blue Jay
1 Red-eyed Vireo, non-stop all day
1 Song Sparrow
1 cardinal

Beats the lawnmower,
this birdsong circus under
treetops' lush green tent.

July 24: Haiku on Hatchet Mountain

This afternoon I led a haiku hike up Hatchet Mountain in Hope (such alliteration!) for Coastal Mountains Land Trust and Sweet Tree Arts. Two familes, including four children, three adults, and two dogs, and I walked up the hill with stops along the way to compose short poems. Highlights included a singing Scarlet Tanager, a porcupine climbing a tree with surprising speed (trying to get away from us), views of the Camden Hills and all the way to the ocean, and lots of blackberries and raspberries to eat along the way.

Who can write haiku
with all these blackberries
to pick and eat?

July 23: My mother's deer

My mother was dealing with a stressful situation this afternoon. While she was anxiously waiting on the phone, on hold, she happened to look out the window and see this graceful doe looking back at her.

photo by Vicki Henderson

The doe, too, anxious

as my mother waiting for

good news on the phone.

July 22: After seeing the movie "Before Midnight"

Full moon rises hazy
over Rockland Harbor.
Night, full of promise.

July 21: Early morning at the camp

Paul and a loon fish.

From the tallest pine, merlin

breaks the morning calm.

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July 20: Watching my husband fishing on the pond

Many thin lines

of the pond's reeds, one shining

line as he casts.

 

 

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July 19: One wakes early on these hot summer mornings

Aroused early
by titmouse song. I thought it was
my bedside alarm.

July 18: Rainfall breaks the heat wave

Finally rain falling.

Across the street in the dark

a child calls out.

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July 17: True love

At the lecture

elderly couple holds hands

the entire hour.

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July 16: Dog Days

Behind the fan's hum

vireo singing

all day long.

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July 15: Alder flies

Home after dark,

greeted by swarming flies

drawn to the porch light.

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July 14: After the party

Finally alone.

In the dark field,

fireflies.

 

 

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July 12: Under the tent

Observed while seated under a huge tent with 600 people for an outdoor event at Colby College last night...

Bumping against the windows
of the party tent--
one big dragonfly.

July 11: Ripening and blooming

This morning I had to laugh as a catbird emphatically "chuck-chuck chuck-chuck'ed" in the blueberry bush, staring at the hard green berries as if willing them to ripen. 

Later, at home, I collected a shirt full of cherry tomatoes from my hanging tomato plant, warmed by the sun and so sweet when popped in my mouth. Meanwhile, many of the flowers in my garden are in bloom or ready to bloom--the deep orange Embers of Vesuvius day lily is loaded with long buds, and the echinacea patch looks about ready to unfurl its petals and show its many faces.

Catbird and I, both

impatient for blueberries

just now blushing pink.

July 10: Country roads

Down the long dirt road
old farmhouse freshly painted
a glimpse of the lake

July 9: Chilly fog descends after days of heat

No longer sultry--
pulling on my flannel shirt
after heat wave's past.

July 8: Tomato plant

After a day's work
I feel inspired watering
the tomato plant.

July 7: Seen in passing

Observed while driving through the town of Round Pond this evening...

Just before sunset,

old man on his porch, eating

a fat slice of pie.

July 6: Early morning run before it gets too hot

Eighty-two degrees.
After my run, how cool
the dewy bushes.

July 5: Fiona's birthday

My niece turned seven today, and we had a family celebration at her parents' camp on a lake in Union. As we were all feasting with much merriment, a spectacular sunset was bubbling up behind the trees, turning the water pink. Later, the neighbors set off loud by pretty fireworks. And all around the camp, illusory fireflies glittered in the darkness.

Diffusing sunset.
Fiona blows out candles.
Fireflies blink on... off...

July 4: Joy of waking to sunshine on a summer holiday

Sun shining through blinds.

Outside, a runner pads past.

Cat still sleeping.

July 3: Holiday weekend begins

Paul finishes mowing,
picks cherry tomatoes.
Finally, sunshine.

July 2: Entropy

After breakfast--
sweeping peony petals
from the tabletop.

July 1: Summer marsh

This morning I visited Scarborough Marsh with my bird guide friend Derek in hopes of seeing a couple of unusual birds that have been reported there recently: Black-necked Stilt and Seaside Sparrow, both of which breed south of Maine. IF&W biologists were out in the marsh with mist nets carrying out some sort of bird research--as luck would have it, right where the stilt has been hanging out, so we had no hope of seeing that bird, but we watched and waited for the sparrow.

As we stood on Eastern Road, all around us many Nelson's Sparrows sang their odd song, a drawn-out spshhh that sounds just like water dropped into a hot frying pan--appropriate for a humid morning. Blackbirds tooted in the reeds. Sun began to disperse the fog lingering over Pine Point, and darker clouds portending afternoon rain rolled in from the west. Here and there white egrets feed silently in the pannes, while Willets startled up from their nests, flashing the white crescents on their wings. Along the edge of the trail, wild roses perfumed the salty air. A Glossy Ibis flew overhead.

Our patience paid off. Derek eventually spotted a Seaside Sparrow singing not too far off in the marsh. I picked up on the song and eventually got some very good looks at this life bird. Not a bad start to my morning. Then I had to rush north to get in a half day's work.

Anxious Willets flush
from marshy pockets, crying.
That kind of morning.