Short Cuts

I was sitting in my car this morning waiting for the AC to kick in, meanwhile, with the window open letting out the heat from the early a.m. sun.   I was on my way to music class in Portland, with plenty of time to spare so sititng for a minute or two was pleasantly relaxing.   The butterfly bush had begun to bloom with great purple blossoms, and the bachellor's buttons, also purple were in bloom.   I can hardly wait for the little humming bees and humming birds to return to enjoy their nectaring.    My neighbor came out to chat and while standing there a rather agresive bee flew between us.   She stepped back and the bee flew into the car.   She said, THAT IS A BEE!" and I said, "I hope it finds it's way back out."   But it already had.  It was taking a short cut through the car to the butterfly bush.   Smart bee.

When I got on the road I contemplated which route I would take.   Of several ways from Scarborough to Portland, all have ongoing construction.   The Maine Turnpike seems to take me too far afield to be a practical choice.  SO, I opted for the shortest route, which I have navigated many times lately so I do know the construction routine:  stay right here, go left there, watch for the shifting lanes, etc. Jersey barriers, (you know, those cement monuments to construction crews) orange barrels,signs that say Double Fines for Speeding.
At least this route would take me to an off-ramp which would put me on the correct avenue for my destination.   Getting to the construction area, traffic stopped.  A screaming police car passed in the "NO TRAFFIC" lane. (I am already thinking I should have taken the long way around.)  We crawled several miles, and several minutes, finally coming upon a tank truck a quarter of a mile long (well, maybe that's a littel exaggeration) which had broken down.   Once past it, traffic began to move at a normal speed.  And then, at the off-ramp which would have taken me to Forest Avenue, there was an army of orange barrells and signs "Ramp Closed" .  Now I had two more choices:  the next off ramp which would necessarily take me through three lighted intersections; or the next one after that which would take me further away from my destination, but onto a scenic route on which to backtrack.
I chose the next ramp thinking it is, after all, the shortest route, and once again found myself behind a street sweeper going five miles an hour and leaving more dust than it was taking.  So much for "short cuts."  And speaking of same,  I had my first grade grandchild and a four year old pre-schooler girl I was taking care of in the car with me.   I asked my grandson how come he was not where I expected him to be and he said, "I took a short cut."  The four  year old said, "I had a short cut once and I was mad at my mother.   I like my hair when she braids it."    I still chuckle when I think of it.  American English is hard to get around even for natives!

So, in the heat of July, and it is hot today and predicted to be hot for the next three or four days,  I will avoid "short cuts" except at my hair dressers, where I am headed as I end this.   I expect her to give me a very "short cut." 

jmajor
jmajor2@maine.rr.com

Deep Summer and Loving It

This is what I call "deep summer".   When July 4th arrives it signals we are into what Maine is all about.   The last couple of weeks, since summer was marked by the calendar, have brought us rain, thrunder, hail, wind, humidity and what some think is unseasonable heat.  Now we settle into summer with all the tourists,  town fairs, old home days, art shows, clam and lobster festivals, and the great MOXIE DAYS, which is held in Lisbon Falls, Maine, the second weekend in July (this year on June 8th).

A doctor* created Moxie as an elixir which was given by the spoonful for a variety of symptoms.    Then in 1876 it was made into a carbonated beverage in Union, Maine.    My father liked Moxie.   When we went on picnics that was the drink we took.  I didn't like it as a child, but acquired a taste for it as I grew older.   I haven't had any for many years, and don't know that I would like it so much now.   I have a tendency to like sweet things as I age, and I hardly ever drink carbonated drinks.   The Moxie Festival has grown since the first one in 1983, and now includes a 5K road race, car show, lots of memorabelia and souvenirs.  It is a "three day powwow."  (It's a wonder that is still poliltically correct language, since it's not connected to the Indians in any way.)  There is no reason to be bored in Maine in the summer.  This year, lobsters shed their shells early so the delicacy is plentiful and slightly less costly as they re-emerge with soft new homes; the beaches are clean, (yes they are, in spite of what the government says) and the  ocean and lakes are warmer than usual for this time of year.   

I deadheadded the roses; poor things were beaten and battered by the recent high winds, hail and rain.   And cleaned out the foxglove which is so beautiful when in bloom, but downright nasty looking when they "go by."
I cannot keep the weeds out of the mulch bed, but the mulch bed was a bad idea to begin with.  It seemed so reasonable that it would be a good place for Nick to "go" and much easier for me to keep clean.   He doesn't "go" there, but he loves to lay down in it, and being a hairy monster, he drags in mulch with every trip.   I have taught him to shake on command out there, (which proves you CAN teach an old dog new tricks)  and it eliminates some, but I am constantly fighting to keep it out of the carpet.
I think in the fall I will spread some loam and seed it for next year.  

July's moon is the Buck Moon.  It was full last night, but in the early waning nights it will still look bright and wash my yard with cool light.   The mosquitos found the patio last night, so I will enjoy the adjoining four-season room with the screened door and windows open.     A well known poet implied there is nothing so "rare as a day in June" but I am inclined to think evenings in July in Maine are practically idyllic, and pretty rare as in a good year we probably can only count on 25 of them at most.

*From Maine but practicing in Massachusetts 

janmajor
jmajor2@maine.rr.com

Credit: Moxie Days:MELiving.com
        

Almost Summer

It is now June 18 - Summer IS just around the corner.   The post below was in my draft file, and there is little I will add or I will be boring myself as well as you.   I have been to Yarmouth with Nick a couple of times recently.  I am being  redundant mentioning  that the rock  faces are changing with the season, just as the the depth of color of the evergreens, and the matruation of the rest of our foliage.   In my back yard the roses are in bloom, the foxglove is four feet tall by my patio room window.  I am enjoying sitting out there watching the bees and other honey-seekers go in and out on their rounds.   With this much added to the should-have-been-posted blog below, I am now going to return to shredding.   And shredding.   And shredding.   I hope I will not be looking for something a year from now which is ending up in confetti.

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It is cliche to comment that time flies as you get older, so I won't say it.  But it does.   Today, June 10 is absolutely the "rare day in June" .  I spent some time on the patio earlier but had to come in because it is just too hot in the a.m. out there.   Probably close to 80 at 9:30.     Night before last we had a couple of thunder storms which produced - I am not exaggerating - hail in size from peas to moth balls.   I sat in my living room beneath my skylights and wondered if the glass would be able to withstand the pounding.   My dog, Nick, is not concerned with weather.  He pays no attention to thunder and lightning, but hail freaks him out.    We were caught in a sudden storm once with sizeable hail stones.   We had been walking in an open field when I saw a storm cloud being driven by a strong wind.   We didn't quite make it to the car before the cloud was directly over us, but the worst was sitting in the car being pelted with hail, watching it bounce around off the hood, the windshield, and the road around us.    It was beginning to build up on the ground, when as swiftly as it came it blew past.   I got home, not more than a mile away and mentioned it to my neighbor who said, "What hail storm?"   It was of small dimensions but very powerful.

Grandkids are home from college. One graduated, one becoming a Junior in the fall. 
Friends are golfing; going off to camp;  talking of family reunions and other summer activities.    Ronald McDonald House held their Purses with Purpose event last week. A fun time with the opportunity to bid on fabulous hand bags, day-at-a-spa gift certificates, fun jewelry, collections of bath products and other personal items.  One interesting item (I did not bid on it) was a three-item "collection"  from a local bakery.   Iced cake, package of a dozen or so cookies and a generous package of home made fudge.   I did bid on "Lunch for Ten" at RMH catered by the staff and won it.   It should be a lot of fun.   SO, Life in Maine in June is good.    Everyting is green and clean.  The only detractor is the road construction and repair going on everywhere!  Getting from Scarborough to Portland is a challenge of patience.   A motorcycle accident on one of the bridges proved there are no sure choices to avoid a problem.   We are at the mercy of the other driver.   

Maine in the Middle of May

Southern Maine is damp today.  It isn't raining, just damp.  I know that because the patio is dark in some places, and almost white in others.   It's cool enough for the dampness to collect in low spots.   I could have discerned the dampness without even looking out the window.   The paper in the printer is soft and slow going through the rollers.   My hair is limp and my toes ache.   Yup, true indications of dampness.

The lilacs are out.   Beautiful purple ( mine are quite dark) plumes of tiny honey filled blossoms.  One of God's truly artistic creations. All traces of the forsythia are gone, even the fallen blossoms.   Of course, the "ground crew" came around a few days ago with their indiscriminate machines taking everything up that isn't pegged down.  I don't miss the dandelions, but the mat of yellow was sort of pretty beneath the forsytha.

The tulips and hyacynths are gone.   We now wait for the second wave of whatever we planted last year, or maybe we've put in some new annuals just for the color.   My butterfly bushes, the beautiful purple on and the not so beautiful white one (barely shows against my white siding) are up several inches and showing promise.  The foxglove is up eight inches so we can expect to see blossoming early on those.   The roses are all leaf at this point.  

I drove the 35 or so miles to Raymond Hill yesterday (Mother's Day) and was privileged to see the sky dotted with hawks all along the way.   Beautiful free birds.  They don't seem to need an "updraft" like seaguls.   A few flaps of their wings allows them to soar up and down in enviously graceful swoops.   ALthough the trip takes me through a section of the Gray Game Preserve, I have never seen a deer on that trip.    Maybe next time.   YOu have to love Maine in May.

jmajor2@maine.rr.com

Sunshine and dandelions

After several days of rain - off and on, but mostly on - the sun has come out and the dandelions are loving it.   Newly seeded section of the back lawn looks promising. Butterfly bushes both front and back, have new green shoots and the western honeysuckle by the fence has grown four inches nearly over night.   You can't kill that western honeysuckly, you know.  The ground crew has mowed it over, the high winds have blown it and the trellis it grew on, over.  At that point I cut the trellis, vine and and all the little shoots off at ground level.  And there it is again.   Of course, the trellis is gone so I wil l have to do something about that before long.

I had cataract surgery in both eyes recently.  I don't exactly see any better, although, I now have 20/20 vision without glasses which means I don't need them for driving.   I do see a difference in colors, which everyone said I would.  Greens are greener and blues are bluer.   A beautiful sky above the greening of the maples and aspens, and the rusty buds on the oak make the world a better place.

My Wheaton, Nick, is sick and not moving about much so I haven't been to Yarmouth.
I haven't seen what the rocks are doing - yes they do things - they weep and change color with the seasons; their striation shows as seasons change.   The ones I see have been fractured by the encroaching highway, and there are pieces which drop off, exposing other facets.  Little sprouts of green spring up in the cracks.   Some prevail and  become bonafide plants, others die from the lack of nourishment and drop off.  The big ones make the cracks bigger as their roots take hold and then water gets in and the ice in winter makes the crack wider. There are large pine trees growing from the rock crevices where you would not believe there would be enough support to keep them upright.

Tourists are appearing on weekends.    Campers are coming in to get hooked up for summer; cottage owners are opening and airing their homes, getting water, lights, telephone back in place.   Some will find the red squirrels (maybe even grays and chippies) have taken winter refuge at their expense.  Once when we opened our cottage we found a flock of dead birds that had come down the Franklin stove chimney which SOMEONE had neglected to seal off. 

Happy Cinco de Mayo - to all of our Mexican friends.  Kennebunk Maine is holding an annual festival today with a parade of LIttle Leaguers, Cub Scouts, Blue Birds, 4-Hers and the drum and bugle brigade in their serapes and sombreros.   

May is a good time in Maine, when the rain stops, the sun comes out and the thermometer stretches to 55 degrees.  

jmajor2@maine.rr.com

The day that the rains came down ......

All of our fears for  field and forest fires have been taken off the page.  We are getting a soaking that will fill the vernal pools,  bring the earth worms to the top of the lawn, and dilute the salt marshes.  It will also dampen the spirits of the school kids who have to wait for buses or walk to school.  

The dog didn't want to leave the patio, which actually had standing water on it.  He hates wet grass, but he  "had to go" and eventually accomplished his duty.    Good dog! 

I imagine my farm family will not appreciate the mud this day will produce.  The horses will be muddy to their knees and their dogs, like mine, will be wet and smelly when they come in.   Cats on the other hand, will just sit in the window and when neccessary,  go with stately pride to their litter box.   On days like this I am grateful for my attached garage and the drive through drug store.  
WHen the rain stops and the sun comes out we will marvel at the rate the grass grows, but mourn a little bit that the forsythia, magnolia, and azalea blooms have been beaten off their branches and lie soggy and faded on the ground.  

jmajor2@maine.rr.com

Hello Spring

Spring came early to Maine.   It actually came too soon, and winter wasn't much to begin with.  Maple trees greedily kept their sap making the syrup harvest light.  Snow left the mountains before skiers had had the last run and retailers were left with shovels, snow blowers,ice melt and winter clothing still on the floors.  Now, April 18, the patio furniture is out, the rakes, hoses and garden implements are on display while the help is still finding storage room for the unsold goods.  Bulb plants which usually appear about now are gone, and the late blooming ones are open.   I have a lovely crop of yellow mustard plants coming up all over the small plots I am allowed to plant in.  Condo living, with one floor units, does offer a little leeway in the rear, and conservatively in the front.  The "old guard" never wanted any thing out front, every house should look exactly like its neighbor. I was told "That's what condo living is all about.  We don't want every body doing their own thing."   But in the end, according to the "green book" we do have a little space to display our individualism.  No pink flamingos or little girls bent over with their panties showing, though.  

I went to Yarmouth today.   The rocks along the way, which do change with the seasons and the humidity, are pale and dry.  Greenery is coming up on the roadside.  Last year's cattails and red berry bushes are falling down to fertilize this year's crop.   But everything is critically dry because we didn't get snow on the mountains to bring the spring run-off.   The "peepers" have found their vernal pools are deep enough to sustain them, and tonight  as the last few nights they are singing their wooing songs.   The cardinals are out every morning calling to each other.  One near me and one further off to the east. I don't know if they are marking their territory or attracting a mate.   I try to imitate thier whistle and sometimes it is near enough to confuse them.  I know that because they send me mixed signals in reply.   Yesterday as I stood out back a huge black bird went over my head.  His huge wings were flapping laboriously.   He let out several raucous calls.  I think he is a goose of some variety and I remember seeing one last year about this time.  I know he (she?) is not a Canada Goose and I know it wasn't a wader. No long legs.  Out of sight in a flash.  Even the dog looked up.   Dog walkers, baby carriage pushers, marathoners, bicyclists - welcome Spring.  Maine's a great place to be this time of year. 

jmajor2@maine.rr.com