It’s the last day of May, a bittersweet time when we say farewell to one of the loveliest months in Maine. (Yes, autumn is beautiful, but May is so green, so full of promise, the beginning rather than the end.)
In the backyard, the ferns are nearly mature, and the woods are filled with shades of green.
Jack and his brethren are now full grown.
The large irises are in bud.
The dwarf snapdragons have been planted.
And in the front yard, Lester keeps an eye on things.
The squadrons of dragonflies have arrived—no pictures yet, but I will be on the lookout when I have my camera, and ditto for the swallowtail butterflies, another recent arrival.
Tonight Clif and I will go for a bike ride along Marancook Lake, where we will be held by the warm air. Ahead of us, we have three more months of beautiful summer, and we intend to squeeze as much joy as we can out of these precious months where we can spend much of our time outside—payback for the many months we must spend inside.
So, adieu, adieu, lovely May, until you return next year.