There is always a hesitation, a pause to reflect while the next next of Maine’s four season backdrops squeaky wheels into place.
Sometimes because the season you just enjoyed so much ended way way too soon. Because all you wanted to do in the outdoors in Maine that season was left with a few items just not scratched off on the mental to do list. Juggling life events and keeping a balance in the important areas of your life secure has to happen too right?
You try to have the yearly traditions like hiking up Mt Katahdin or camping at Baxter Park. A trip or two to the Maine coast. Hiking, piking, kayaking, or just walking, sitting, gazing. Being fully aware of Maine’s natural beauty surrounding you. One more wet raft ride down the Kennebec, Penobscot, The Dead Rivers. But in the fall wearing a wet suit of neoprene top and bottom. Hitting all the senses, not just using the eyeballs in all we experience in Maine.
Fall in Maine happens right on time. As you tramp through the woods but wearing orange, red in search of game.
Or just sitting on an open porch of a lone Maine log cabin in the forest. Listening to the quiet. Watching one by one colorful leaves spiral, drift to the ground. Smelling the fall aroma of trees, grass, ground cover, morning frost, evening dew. The crackling, sparking, blazing camp fire. Or something good cooking up, sizzling in a large black iron skillet. That whatever is served will taste over the top special. Because it is the yearly tradition, handed down recipe of stew, biscuits, home made this or that. And because your lungs have OD’ed on fresh clean air today.
It’s like someone put on a face mask early in the day pumping only green bottles, canisters of pure oxygen. So different, foreign, refreshing after the city smog, smell of industry, automobiles, diesels trucks and trains. That is your usually air supply. All your body is fed round the clock.
Fall is a time to reflect on summer, get ready for winter.
Each season is connected, wired in series and all detonate, fire up, percolate all year long inside a person. Because it is so different when you pull back on the crowds of people. Rein in the crime, traffic, and open up the skies. With a black velvet back drop high overhead. Of a zillion brilliant stars that you admire and forgot were up there because the city light pollution robs the opportunity to visit them nightly.
Digging out the boards to go skiing, moving the snow sled into position from in front of the car in the garage to beside it. Uncovered, waxed, fluids readied. Digging around for the registration to trot to the local town office to get a new different colored sticker for the sides.
Getting the wood splitter back from your neighbor to finish up what has been put off. Needs to be racked, stacked in the cellar after the splitting process. Removing air conditioners, replacing door seals, tightening window latches to batten down the Maine home. Bringing the green canoe out from behind the garage, to its special spot tucked inside. Along with the patio chairs, glass top table and flower pots. Leaning a picnic table up against a tree sideways to shed snow.
Seasons change, color, filter the people of Maine that enjoy all four. In distinct unique ways, locations, with the neat people who all somehow find their way to Maine.
Attending harvest church suppers, craft fairs and thinking holidays with the family. But admiring summer images on the refrigerator of moments captured that make you smile, happy to live, raise a family in Maine. It’s not just about summer weather, and we have no Maine polar bears, igloos in the winter. There are four seasons to collect, over and over through out a person’s lifetime in Vacationland. Maine. Get to know her, don’t stay away so long.