Category Archives: summer

Home, Movies, summer

A Time of Crickets and Warm Nights

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The calendar has flipped to August, high summer in Maine, and right on cue, the crickets have begun singing their sweet, sad song. There is no better place to listen than in our gazebo, which protects us from mosquitoes.

During the day, we are surrounded by green, and it feels as though we are being held by the forest.

But evening is magical, too. On Saturday night, we brought home pizza and stayed in the gazebo until nearly midnight. In Maine, there are not many months where the weather is warm enough for us to do this, and we cherish every opportunity to sit outside without a sweater or jacket.

August in Maine is also the time for tomatoes, and mine have started to ripen.

Did I eat one of those little jewels, straight from the vine? You bet I did. The rest I brought in for lunches during the week.

Clif is making good progress on the house, but the rain today, while much needed, has put a temporary halt on the job. As soon as the weather clears, Clif will be back outside to continue his work.

Last night, on Sunday, we met our friends Dawna and Jim at Absolem for drinks and a chat. While we love this old place with its renovated barn turned into a tasting room, we promised Dawna and Jim an invitation to our backyard sometime soon, while the weather is still warm, to enjoy drinks and appetizers. They agreed that this sounded like a great idea.

So welcome, welcome August, the month of warm delights, a slightly melancholy time as we know summer is coming to an end. Each day, dusk comes a little earlier, and the sun rises a little later. But we will cherish every day of this oh-so-lovely month, going outside as often as we can.

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Listening

Raise Your Hopeful Voice

A Tribute to Glen Hansard

I expect many of you have heard of the Irish musician Glen Hansard and perhaps have even seen the bittersweet film Once, which featured his music and singing as well as that of his then-partner Markéta Irglová. This 2007 movie, made for a pittance and directed by John Carney, touched many hearts, including mine.

Less than a week ago, on July 29, Hansard was killed in a motorcycle accident, and the world too soon lost this talented musician. (He was fifty-six.) There has been a huge outpouring of grief from the well known—Bono and Bruce Springsteen—to ordinary fans of this big-hearted musician. According to the BBC, “For the past 15 years, Hansard had organised an annual Christmas Eve busking gig to raise money for homelessness charities.” I have read that, like many musicians, Hansard believed music flowed across cultures, becoming a creative force that unifies us.

Finally, here is a video of “Falling Slowly,” perhaps Once‘s most famous song and one that certainly catches the essence of the movie.

Farewell, troubadour.

 

Cats, Flowers, summer

Late July, 2026

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At the beginning of the month, we had a horrible heatwave, and I whined about how we don’t have summers in Maine the way we once did. Well, either the weather gods heard my lament and took pity on me, or they decided to pull one of their little tricks. The heatwave lasted for a few days, and since then, we have been having an old-fashioned Maine summer — warm, dry days with temps in the low 80s and cool nights that dip down into the 50s or 60s. In other words, sheer delight. I wish readers suffering through extreme heat could be in Maine right now to enjoy this perfect weather.

My front gardens are in a bit of funk right now and not just because of the work on the house. Somehow, with the demise of my lilies because of the lily beetles, I just haven’t found anything to take their place in terms of color and pizzaz for late July and August. Darn things! The beetles are relatively new to Maine, and I wish they had never crossed the border. But in everyday life, we know how far we get ahead with wishes. The lily beetles are here to stay, and I have decided not to grow lilies in the garden.

However,  the plants on my porch are thriving. Between the perfect weather and just the right amount of watering and feeding, they are in their glory.

Begonias,

coleuses,

and those oh-so-pretty petunias really jazz up the front porch.

In other news…Clif began tearing siding off the house,

but he ran into some problems. Or rather, they ran into him.

Now, for the most part, we are very careful not to destroy the homes and habitat of the creatures who live around us. In our yard, Moles and ants burrow and dig with abandon. Porcupines are allowed to use the underneath of our shed for a home. But Clif was unable to work on the house with a nest guarded by dive-bombing biters. (I am not sure if it is a hornet or wasp nest, but the results are the same. Readers, if you know what kind of nest this is, do let me know.)

So last night, when it was dark, Clif found a long piece of wood and knocked the nest down. This morning, I used the wood to hook the nest, which still had insects buzzing around it, and deposited it into the woods on the side of our yard. At least we didn’t have to use poison to get rid of the problem, and this afternoon, Clif will be able to resume work on the house.

Never a dull moment at our house on the edge of the woods, but Kai, one of our cats, took it all in stride as he relaxed in the living room.

Ah, the life of a cat!

 

 

Music, summer

A June Night

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Mid-June is here. The planting is done, including the row of begonias in the back garden. They provide a welcome splash of red and white to go along with all the green. The begonias will bloom from now until the first hard frost hits. They never get leggy; they always look good. Begonias are not showy flowers, but they are perfect for the backyard, which is part sun/part shade.

The days are long—it’s not dark until nearly 9:00 p.m.—and last Saturday the night was warm enough for us to sit on the patio until late into the evening. Here is the view from inside the gazebo, looking out into the garden at dusk.

As the darkness settled around us, we heard a wood thrush’s song, one of the benefits of living by the edge of the woods. What a treat it is to hear that beautiful song.

Slowly, our solar lights came on, and my favorite is the glowing moon.

More darkness, and then there were fireflies, little points of fairy lights blinking on and off, on and off.

An enchanting evening, and how lucky we feel to have all of this in our very own backyard.

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Listening

Johnny Blue Skies & The Dark Clouds: Situation

Yesterday, as Clif and I were coming home from doing errands, I heard the song “Situation” on the radio. The song’s rock/funk sound immediately drew me in. But who, I wondered, are Johnny Blue Skies & The Dark Cloud? I had never heard them or the song before.

Turns out that Johnny Blue Skies is the alter ego of the country singer Sturgill Simpson, who apparently wanted to branch out and try something completely different. And The Dark Clouds is his band.

The official video is a lot of fun, beginning with Dr. Johnny Fever from the delightful 1970’s television sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati. From there, the video goes to dancers—some real, some not—from around the world. It seems to me that, without being preachy, Simpson illustrates how dance and music unite us, regardless of culture.

But watch and listen for yourselves. And if your knees are limber enough—mine certainly aren’t—go ahead and groove to the music.

 

 

Birds, Environment, Movies, summer

One of the Sweetest Months of the Year

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In Maine, June is surely one of the sweetest months of the year. Everything is new and green. The days are warm, but not too hot. The nights are cool enough to snuggle under blankets, which I love to do. Right now, as I work at my desk, the window is open, and I can smell the scent of early summer coming from the woods.

Living on the edge of the woods brings many pleasures, but there is a disadvantage in the summer—mainly,  mosquitoes. Now, they have their place. Mosquitoes provide essential nutrition for adult birds and their babies, and I would never begrudge food for those fluttering, singing beauties. Unfortunately, we provide food for the mosquitoes, and sitting on our patio in June and July after the sun goes down is no fun at all.

What to do? Douse our yard with pesticides? Yeah, right. As if this family of green beans would ever do such a thing, especially as the mosquitoes in Maine do not spread diseases such as dengue fever, malaria, or yellow fever.

Here, then, is our solution for this year, a Christmas present from our daughter Dee.

The gazebo, roomy and airy, allows us to sit on the patio at any time of day. Occasionally, we thumb our nose at the mosquitoes, who cluster longingly around the screen. Outside. Where they belong.

Last week, we had our friends Dawna and Jim over for wine and appetizers, and eating and talking, we spent hours in the gazebo. Green is still the predominant color, but, as Dawna observed, there are many different shades. So there are, and soon, there will be other colors as well.

Dawna brought cheesecake and made the most delicious strawberry-rhubarb sauce to go with it. I could have some right now.

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Readers might recall that several posts back, I featured a bird’s nest that had fallen onto the patio. I love the way feathers were woven into the nest.

I left the nest on the patio, and a week or so ago, as Clif was working on the gazebo, he noticed how a bird came to the nest, picked at this and that, and then flew away. The bird returned over and over, until the nest looked like this:

What a great example of recycling! Years ago, my dear friend Barbara Johnson, who has been gone for over twenty years, told me that when we come upon a nest that has blown down from a tree, it is best to leave it there, as birds will reuse the material for a new nest. Barbara, how right you were.

And, yes, I still miss you very much.

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Watching

Movie

Power Ballad
Directed by John Carney
With Paul Judd and Nick Jonas

If you like Ireland, music, and character-driven stories, then Power Ballad is the movie for you. Paul Judd plays a wedding musician who yearns for more. Nick Jonas plays a boy-band musician who’s lost his mojo. Their stories come together in a bittersweet way, and the movie’s ending is so generous and kind that it moved me to tears and made me think maybe that there is hope for us as a species. Really, I can’t recommend this movie highly enough.

Birds, Food for Thought, summer

Flight of the Hummingbird

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One of the delights of summer is the return of the hummingbirds, whose delicate and ethereal appearance belies their fierce territorial nature.

When we sit on the patio, we can hear the buzzing of their frantically beating wings and their high-pitched twitters as they try to drive each other away from the feeders and flowers. Often, one sits guard on the feeder, keeping a sharp eye out for any hummingbird intruders. With other birds, all of whom are larger, the hummingbird is more circumspect. As Falstaff once noted, the better part of valor is discretion.

Silly little things. If I could speak hummingbird, I would tell them that there is plenty of food for all, that they waste more energy chasing each other away than they would if they just settled down to drink the sugar-water we provide.

But, alas, I don’t speak hummingbird, and I doubt they would listen to me even if I could. And, really, who am I to criticize? Do humans, as a group, listen any better to good advice, to pleas to share resources with those who have too little? Some do, yes, but all too many don’t, especially those at the top who have so much. I won’t mention any names. I’m sure readers will know whom I’m referring to.

But back to hummingbirds. Nowadays, I use the camera in my phone to take photos, and it is not easy to catch a picture of hummingbirds as they zip from feeder to flower. But I am persistent, and I have a couple that aren’t too bad, which I’ve used for this post.

In about a month, the hummingbirds will leave Maine for their long trek south, to Mexico and Central America. How can such little birds make such an arduous journey? Somehow they do, and perhaps their fierce nature helps them.

In the meantime, we will enjoy the buzzing of their wings and the twittering sounds hummingbirds make as they zoom in and around the garden, over the house, and into the woods.

 

 

Food, summer

Is It All Right if I Kiss Your Cheek?

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On Friday, Shannon, Mike, and Holly came to Maine for a visit. For Father’s Day, Shannon and Mike bought Clif a ticket to the Kennebec River Brewfest in Augusta, Maine. Since beer isn’t my thing, Mike agreed to accompany Clif to the Brewfest, which was held on Saturday, August 2.

Neither Dee nor Shannon like beer, so while Clif and Mike were at the Beerfest, we went to Thai With Us, a restaurant in Augusta, where we had some delicious Thai food.  We all agreed it was a restaurant to visit again.

As we were eating, some adults and children were seated at a long table next to us. Since my back was to them, I couldn’t see the adults and children unless I twisted around to look.

But I didn’t need to look when I heard an adorable exchange, a piping voice asking an adult, “Is it all right if I kiss your cheek?”

How we smiled as we listened to that child, and after Dee, Shannon, and I left, we all agreed that the answer to that question would be yes, always yes.

After the Brewfest ended, we all headed home where we sat in the screen house in the backyard. As we talked about movies and the problems of the world, dusk settled over us.

Crickets sang. The solar lights came on. And in the trees at the edge of the woods, we heard  curious calls, which we eventually figured out were barred owl fledglings.

Holly the dog, comfortable on her dog bed, ignored the fledglings. As I listened, I marveled at how much life there is in the woods. The trees not only provide shade and absorb carbon dioxide, but they are also provide food and shelter for many animals. This might sound fanciful, but I can’t help but think that trees are the guardians of life as they rise tall and mysterious above us.

No wonder trees were worshiped in past ages.

 

 

summer

Little Daughters of Jade

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Fifteen years ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, a friend brought me a sliver of jade plant, taken from her own larger one. The tiny jade was in a yogurt container, and as my friend passed it to me, she said, “This is for luck.”

Naturally, this made me extremely superstitious about the plant, whom I unimaginatively named Jade. Over the years, I have tended Jade faithfully and lovingly, watering her when needed and feeding her once a month.

I wish I had taken a picture of baby Jade, but I had no idea how she would grow. And grow and grow.

Now, fifteen years later, this is what Jade looks like.

Jade certainly attracts attention. Delivery people and friends alike marvel at Jade’s size and beauty.

A while back, when one of Jade’s branches broke, it occurred to me that I could propagate more little Jades so that if—God forbid—anything ever happened to big Jade, her spirit would live on in her daughters.

Propagating more little Jades proved to be ridiculously easy. I filled a small glass with water and tucked the tiny jade stems into the water. Within a month or so, hairy roots appeared, and I planted them in small pots with potting soil.

Readers might have noticed a cluster of babies around Jade on the buffet. Here is a closer look at the daughters of Jade, on our front deck right after I planted and watered them.

The other day, I brought a daughter of Jade over to a friend who is dealing with her own health issues. “This is for luck,” I told her, thus keeping the tradition going.

The rest will be for the young woman who delivers our weekly farm share that we get from our own Farmer Kev. Some time ago, I had given her a daughter of Jade—not because she was ill but just because she wanted one—and she recently told me that her daughter of Jade is thriving. She also mentioned that many of her friends would love to have their own daughter of Jade: “As many as you want to give away.”

We’ll see if she wants five little daughters. If not, I know I can find homes for the rest of them.

For some reason, in my mind Jade is a matriarch and her children are daughters. Why this should be I’m not sure. I suppose it must be because even though the name Jade can be used for both genders, I envisioned the original little Jade as feminine, a manifestation of the luck my friend was giving to me. And my vision for Jade’s offspring goes in the same direction.

I also like to think that luck is like love, something that grows and spreads as we bestow good wishes on others. After all, it’s a hard old world, and most of us, for whatever reason, could use the blessing of luck.

 

Movies, summer

Late Summer on Our One Acre; And a Movie Review of Ballad of a Soldier

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We have a little piece of land, one acre, on the edge of the woods. Those woods are part of a watershed of 2,729 acres—over 4 square miles—that drains to the Upper Narrows Pond, and this means they are safe from development. In the woods are many wild animals, including foxes, deer, porcupines, bears, fishers, raccoons, coyotes, and skunks. (I know that people need homes, but so do wild creatures. Getting the mix right is often difficult.)

One acre compared to 2, 729 isn’t very much, but at times it seems like the world to me, always changing, never static, variable with each season.  Our home, the driveway, lawn, and gardens all sit on this one acre. When I was younger, I would have liked more land to grow more food. But nowadays, with my creaky knees, our one acre seems exactly right: big enough for some gardens, enough space for our patio, close enough to the road, but not too close.

And what is mid-August bringing to our acre by the woods?

First of all, mushrooms. The opening picture is a close-up of them, and they remind me of little pancakes. When the focus is farther out, not so much. And note how green the grass is. This summer, we have had a perfect amount of rain, enough to keep things green and growing, but not too much to make things soggy and rotten.

The bee balm has passed, and I like the way the seed head looks against this hydrangea, which is starting to pass.

Bee balm doesn’t exactly thrive in my back garden, and I think this plant, normally a spreader, doesn’t get enough sun. I’m thinking of planting more hydrangeas in its place, but the hummingbirds love what does grow, and I like the bee balm’s splash of red, however thin. We shall see.

My own tomatoes are beginning to ripen, and yesterday I used a few in a sandwich. Because I was feeling bold, I also added some cucumbers. As my Yankee husband would say, pretty darned good.

Even though it’s still August, there are signs that fall is just around the corner.

And who is this in our backyard? Why, it’s the divine Miss Holly.

She belongs to our daughter Shannon and our son-in-law Mike, and we took care of Holly while they celebrated their fourteenth wedding anniversary in Vermont. (Happy, happy!)

Our backyard, completely fenced in, is perfect for dogs. Holly had a fun weekend of lots of treats as well as sniffing and patrolling the backyard. She’s wonderful company, bright and alert. Shannon and Mike picked her up yesterday, and we miss her.

There are still more weeks of August before we edge into September. More time for sitting on the patio by the edge of the deep green woods as we listen to the finches, the nuthatches, the chickadees, and the occasional haunting call of the bard barred owl.

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Watching: World Cinema

From the Janus Collection

Ballad of a Soldier, 1959
Directed by Grigory Chukhray

Warning: this review contains minor spoilers

Ballad of a Soldier, a Russian film set in World War II, came out at a propitious time, a few years after Stalin died, when there was a period of thaw during Khrushchev’s regime. This thaw gave Russian filmmakers a little more latitude, a chance to focus on the individual rather than the collective.

And focus director Grigory Chukhray certainly did, on beautiful nineteen-year-old Private Alyosha Skvortsov (Vladimir Ivashov). For his bravery in battle, Alyosha has been given a six-day leave to go home to visit his mother.

Two things get in Alyosha’s way: the chaos of war, which extends well into Russia, away from the front line, and Alyosha’s tendency to get sidetracked.

First he helps a wounded veteran, then he meets a lovely young woman, Shura (Zhanna Prokhorenko). Mishaps ensue. Alyosha misses a train as he goes to get water. He delivers a bar of soap to a soldier’s family, which delays him further. Hitchhiking and muddy roads slow him down even more. On a more serious note, the bombing of a train brings panic and death.

In one sense, this could be the story of any soldier in any war, but in another sense, this is the story of Alyosha, a nineteen-year-old who is easily distracted as young men (and women) often are.

Does Alyosha make it home to see his mother? I am not going spoil the ending. This movie, directed by a great humanist, is very much worth seeing and is available on Amazon to rent or buy. It is also available on Turner Movie Classics.

Flowers, summer

All Part of the Continuum

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As I sit here typing this post, it is the sweetest summer morning in Maine that anyone could ask for. The air is warm and dry. Next door, a hen clucks as she lays an egg. The grasshoppers buzz an August song. By my desk, the window is open, and a soft breeze, which rustles the leaves on the trees, comes in.

Quite a change from last week, which once again flipped to high humidity and high temps. There was another heat advisory, and we had to stay inside, cooled by our trusty air conditioner, Eva. On Friday, our friend Joel came over for drinks and appetizers, and it was too humid and hot to sit on the patio. Instead we had to gather in the living room, made comfortable by Eva.

But today, all is forgiven. If I were in charge, I would order 26 more days just like this one, with enough rain thrown in at night to water the plants. Like Goldilocks, I always want things to be just right.

Outside, the plants have thrived in the heat and humidity. Even though my gardens are at their best in June and July, there are still some things to admire.

This striking double daylily,

a modest but lovely hosta blossom,

and a delicate single daylily. I can’t decide whether its color is peach or salmon. I’m tending toward peach.

Because this is not thankful Thursday, I’m going to gripe just a little about the damage done to my hostas by slugs and snails

With all the rain and humidity, it’s been a good year for those slimy little nibblers. Time was when I did my best to keep the slugs and snails at bay, and I would patrol the yard with a jar of soapy water to drop them in. But in my old age, I have given up what seemed like a futile battle. No matter how many slugs and snails I caught, more would come. Fortunately, all that chewing doesn’t cause permanent damage. Still, I wish the slugs and snails would stay in the woods and find their meals elsewhere.

On the other hand, there are some visitors we don’t mind. One night, before going to bed, when I shut off Eva and opened the windows, I spied this little creature clinging to the screen. Attracted by the light, I suppose. Or rather, after some insect that was attracted by the light. By morning, our little visitor was gone.

When you live by the edge of the woods, you know you are going to share your yard with other creatures. Some you enjoy. Others not so much. But this morning as I watched some crow fledglings pester their parent for food, I thought about how we are all part of the continuum, the rich web of life in northern New England.