When growing up in England, I was a choirboy. The carols and music seemed to define the season. For me, the songs and images of the night and divinity were powerful. It was only after I left the city and experience dark, star-filled skies that the metaphor took on a reality.
This is the view Naomi and I had when we stopped near Little Hunters Cove in Acadia Nation Park one evening to eat the dinner we had packed. Click on the image for a larger view.
How do we see the natural world? How do we read the landscape? Every season has its illusions. The low sun of winter gives the land a warm, inviting character—known as the golden hour. This pond on a salt marsh in Bates-Morse Mountain Conservation Area is not liquid, but frozen over with a thick layer of ice. Click on the image for a larger view.
From Sand Beach, Acadia National Park. Click on the image for a larger view.
Reid State Park is mostly known for its beaches—Mile Beach, shown here, and Half Mile Beach. Snowfall from the Thanksgiving storm has covered the sand, but not deterred people from enjoying the park, which is open all year. Click on the image for a larger view.
Reid State Park is located in Georgetown, Maine. As well as rocky coastline, the park has sandy beaches, salt marshes, and fir/spruce forests. Many come for the birdwatching. This image is taken from Griffith Head looking toward Outer Head, which is a protected tern sanctuary. Across Sheepscot Bay is Southport where the naturalist writer Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring. Click on the image for a larger view.
Last Saturday felt like early winter. Naomi and I took a trip to Bailey Island. The air was dry, clear, and cold. Usually, the atmosphere is too humid to allow the sun sitting on the horizon to directly illuminate the land, but not this Saturday—within about a minute of taking this image, the sun sank below the horizon, taking the light with it. Click on the image for a larger view.
Primitive roses can be found all long the coast of Maine. In the fall, only their foliage and hips remain. Click on the image for a larger view.
Fort Point State Park is on Cape Jellison in Penobscot Bay. The Penobscot river is part of the largest system of tributaries in Maine. Between the tidal influences of the Gulf of Maine and this river system, the seeming peaceful waters in Penobscot bay are deceiving. The tidal sandbar that protrudes from Fort Point is shaped by these forces—the sign warning of riptides and a prohibition against swimming on the way to the beach is a reminder.
Standing on the sandbar at low tide is strangely peaceful—it feels like being on the shore of a lake. But there is also an uneasiness in this exposure, as if a monster lies below the surface waiting to rise and take you away. Click on the images for a larger view.
In Stockton Springs is one of Maine’s numerous lighthouses. Fort Point Light Station does not have the cachet of others like Portland Head, Pemaquid Point, or Bass Harbor. The 1857 lighthouse and keeper’s house are an example of the erratic nature of New England architecture that is pieced together over decades or centuries, but seems to turn out well. The park is also home to the earthworks of the 1759 British Fort Pownell.
Naomi and I arrived at the park late after getting lost—that is how we discovered Sandy Point Beach State Park. The park closes at sunset, and, with an area of 120 acres, we did not have time to enjoy all of it. Click on the image for a larger view.
The Maine coast facing the Gulf of Maine and Atlantic Ocean is dominated by fir/spruce forests. Hardwoods cannot tolerate the harsh saline conditions. But in deep inland bays like Penobscot, the conditions are not so harsh. Click on the image for a larger view.
