Autumn is two weeks away. Already the days are shortening rapidly, and the nights are chilly. The fog hangs overhead late into many mornings. A few trees have turned dull red and orange. Most of these are along waterways, maples with their feet wet.
This is a good time to be at the ocean in northern Maine and New Brunswick. By now, most of the summer visitors have gone home and the folks left have time to be engaged with visitors. Breakfast at the local diner is friendly and relaxed. Mount Desert Island, recently overrun with visitors, is relatively tranquil, even on weekends. Parts of Acadia away from the main island are nearly deserted. Only the rare birder or lobsterman is seen.
Loons stop by the cove on their way south. They swim past at a leisurely pace, and ignore the osprey and eagle who hunt along the waterway. The occasional seal drifts past, and ducks other sea fowl congregate in rafts.
On rainy days water gathers on leaves, then drips on to the forest floor. Water gurgles and sloshes in the gutters beneath the eves, and pools on the deck and steps. Rain pings against the panes. The clouds descend and we are fogged in. At night, a few birds call, the waves sounds as they come up against the rocks, and rain strikes the roof. All else is silence. Spirit seems close, as does longing. Nature looks ahead to winter.
Dreaming the World 