mid to late summer

time at the beach was again a high point of my summer. weather was perfect, rental was fabulous, but being with family was the best. assorted brothers and sisters came and it was wonderful to spend time with them. after years of being together on a regular basis, i miss them now that our parents are gone, and i so look forward to this extended time with them every summer. also, the girl and the not-so-little-anymore-girl both were there for a few days. so much fun...such precious memories. 

here's july's blue moon rising over the atlantic. the not-so-little-girl thought it was pretty funny that it was a pink blue moon. 

i took lots of low light photos as i grappled with manual settings on my camera to try to graduate from shooting in automatic. sometimes it worked, sometimes not. 

the other summer highlight was a prolific vegetable garden, the first in many years. did I take any photos? no. just beach-y things this summer. although i think i might have a shot of harvested carrots around here somewhere...

waylaid

all i really wanted was a picture of this butterfly that hung around the garden for days, fluttering in and around this milkweed plant. but on the way to photograph it, i got sidetracked by some of the other flowers in the garden.

purple coneflower...

poppy (from helen!)...

and daylily, with ant. 

summer planets

jupiter and venus, in the west, after sunset. brilliant. 

unseasonable

this has been a good summer. there have been warm days and comfortable nights, enough rain (i think), good beach days and lots of time to enjoy being outside. a few hot spells but not much humidity. it's been wonderful, but just not right. no monarch caterpillars or butterflies. crickets chirping since early summer when they usually chorus in august. early summer flowers blooming late and late summer ones blooming early. and now, shocking signs of autumn, earlier than i have ever noticed. and it's not even september yet.

afterward

after a fitful night's sleep, the day dawns clear and brilliant. the wind still howls and the weather vanes on cottages can't seem to make up their minds. down the street, the wind fights with a sheer curtain through the open window. the surf is pounding on the rocks. wild weather still!

storms like last night's have such an effect on the beaches and the shore. at the sandy beach, lifeguards will not allow children to go into the water past their knees. the high tide is super high, it tries to take my shoes and it forces us and our blankets into the sand dune! but at the small rocky beach, it's a seaglass bonanza! never have we collected so much; never have i seen such a beautiful blue as this piece!

storm

Wild weather this afternoon with driving, windswept rain. even soaked to the bone, i stood at the rocks in awe of the color of the ocean, the power of the surf. tonight the wind howls so loudly through closed up windows, i must open them enough to quiet the noise so i can sleep.

at the beach

Some time away at the ocean, my happy place. salt air, crashing waves, herons on the marsh. visiting with family, reading on the deck, and falling asleep to the sound of the ocean. I love it here.

on the road

recently, i took a day trip to maine with a friend. a lovely day - and i'm so glad i brought my camera...

we visited an apple orchard to buy native blueberries. the apples there are already turning red!

a beautiful wall display of the old brass stencils they used to mark the apple crates for shipping. 

all manner of interesting things hanging from the beams in the barn. 

cutest little outhouse i've ever seen. 

i have been obsessed this summer with top story windows, especially those that are in the peaks of roofs. they're always a little different than all the other windows in the building. and they're often beautiful, like this one.

the sweetest little secret garden, with a twig fence and thyme-laced stepping stones up to the old grinding wheel. that gorgeous latch is on the outhouse.

we passed this old, neglected church on our way out of town. green corrugated metal covers up the steeple windows. i thought the building was sad and just wanted a shot of it. 

the ride home

sunset, on the road home. all i had was my little camera and i was so sorry. it had stormed heavily and was just clearing as the sun set. the clouds over the river valley were magical. 

downeast

Odd, but therapeutic, to be away when there is so much focus on school's beginning. a beautiful saturday morning here on the rocky shore, visiting with wonderful friends, mesmerized by the beauty, and with seagulls providing comic relief!

onlooker

yesterday i watched as this butterfly flitted around my garden, landing on the echinacea, resting for a while, then floating off to somewhere else. she returned many times - at least i think it was the same creature. finally she landed and stayed, and was still there as dusk fell. now this morning, she is there still, unmoving. i did not disturb her to take this photo but now i wonder: do butterflies sleep? or did she die yesterday as i looked on in fascination?

morning stroll

up and out early to walk, an activity i have promised myself i will resume now that i presumably have more time. but i bring my small camera, of course, and get waylaid by nature and the fascination of the roadside. it takes me twice as long to "walk" as i had planned - but i start my day by seeing some wondrous things...

gone

"labor day", the kid said when I asked how much longer the ice cream stand would be open. where, oh where has the summer gone?

the last hurrah

nothing like waking up first thing in the morning

and remembering you're at the ocean!

revelation

every morning, within a few minutes of waking, i think about this blog, and how i've neglected it this summer. truly, i've been really busy with work issues and personal matters, my mind has been scattered for weeks, and i just haven't found much inspiration. but, for a brief time at the start and end of the day, i've felt so badly about not posting. guilty even.

so this morning, as i'm stumbling around making coffee and mental to-do lists, i'm thinking maybe it's time to just quit blogging and move on to instagram or pinterest or some other social site. or abandon my web presence, such as it is, altogether. and i happen to glance out the window and i see this: in the still morning air of my backyard, six turkey babies, inches from my door, casually pecking their way through the rain-soaked grass, making soft clucking sounds to each other as they hunt for their meal. on the hill above, the mother, standing watch over her poults as they feed. i stop. i stay still. i lean into the doorjam and i watch for a long, long time. and as i stand there, coffee pot still in hand, it dawns on me: i've just been too damn busy this summer to even take the time to notice. and that is shameful and sad.

 

not yet full

but still so beautiful, especially because it's over the ocean. i'm so looking forward to full moon rise tomorrow night and hope the skies are as clear as they are this night.

start of summer

the tiniest bit of orange in an indian paintbrush nestled amidst the abundant green of grasses up on the hill. from afar, it catches my eye this morning, on this first day of summer.

meterological summer

today marks the first day of meteorological summer - june, july, and august, the three months traditionally thought of as summertime. i like this new-to-me fact, and i'll take it. i'd much rather have summer begin today than wait twenty more days for the astrological start to the season.

close call

here we are, only in the midst of september and last night we had our first frost advisory! there's another posted for tonight but since we escaped it last night, it's unlikely it will happen tonight either. phew! i adore fall - but i'm not sure i'm ready to totally give up summer just yet!

late summer's eve

evenings seem to come earlier and earlier these days. as the daylight dims, the air cools quicker and there's a faint anticipation of fall to the air. biting insects are just about gone now and the yard becomes an outdoor extension of the house - quiet spots to read or work or dream. birdsong in the evening has ceased, sadly, but has been replaced by a chorale of crickets singing well into the night, an end-of-summer lullaby drifting through the still-open windows.