What I Did This Summer: Or Why Is It so Hard to Stay in the Studio?

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that I’ve had a break from teaching travels this summer, except for those July lectures from last week’s post. I live in the state of Maine, where a ton of other people travel to for vacation—so why would I want to go anywhere else? Plus my husband Tom, is hopelessly addicted to kayaking—and is a kayak guide—and when you live in a northern clime, outdoor water activities are pretty much centered in July and August. So… I get to be the stay-at-home person in the summer, holding down the proverbial fort, while Tom is the one to go galavanting up the coast, or onto the Saganay River in Quebec, kayaks instead of quilts in tow. Works for me.

We pulled together some summertime photos that share with you our love of where we live and some simple pleasures of life. Hope you enjoy the show.

Around the House

I always have higher hopes for “all I’ll get done this summer” than I can possibly accomplish. I planted window boxes and rescued a pathway from weed encroachment, but mostly the outside has had to manage on its own. Our son Sam, has been home, unexpectedly between apartments prior to his senior year of college. I managed to put him to work painting a few steps that have been waiting over a year to be checked off, but he’s been avoiding me ever since. So the rest of the list remains—but the summer’s not over yet!

I enjoy finding treasures at yard sales, and there’s two really good church/town sales every summer. A few years back I decided that “garden beds” would be fun additions to our (my) garden, and have managed to find a new bed frame, or at least a new rod-iron head board, every year since. Last year I corralled some transplanted perennials into one of them, and it’s made for some nice photo ops this year. A few frames are waiting in the wings to find their new placement.

But mostly, this year, I’ve embraced the weeds—those maligned plants whose only fault is to grow where you didn’t intend them to. When edged with a heavy dew in the morning sun, they can be quite spectacular. The milkweed above, serves an important purpose which you’ll see soon.

My Djinni Cat is sure appreciative of my being around home more—and especially out in the studio, her hangout. She’s taken to drooling when she’s particularly happy to see me. That habit has slacked off as the summer has progressed and the luggage stays put. If it’s one of those days when that tired feeling sets in—especially when it’s hot and humid, she’s all too happy to join me for a little siesta.

Critters to be Rescued: peeper tree frogs, hummingbirds, butterflies, and cats

Peepers are these little frogs with big voices. They signal the end of winter and continue through the end of spring. I absolutely love to hear them at night. Every so often I find them on our deck, far from the tree line. I used to carry them back to the woods, but now I suspect that one or more of them have made a home under the deck, so I move them out of harm’s way and let them figure out how to get back to their home.

Most days I prop open our front door for the fresh air to come in. We also have flowers, climbing vines, and a feeder to attract hummingbirds. So far, these tiny birds have managed to find their way inside the house three times, exhausting themselves in the skylights or ceiling. We’ve found that Sam has a way with these little creatures, scooping them from a perch on a picture frame and gently taking them outside. One of the hummers rested for awhile in his hand, taking sips from the feeder that I had brought over, before taking off.

And then there are the Monarch caterpillars.

It all started when we moved to Harpswell in 2000 and a friend noticed milkweed growing in the field. She went to it and found caterpillars munching away. Sam was 3 years old at the time and so started years of raising and releasing monarch butterflies with him, and later my niece as well. They are both in college now, but I’ve carried on the summer tradition.

For better or worse, I’ve gotten very good at finding these little guys and the count has increased over the years. Tom questioned the need for me to take on this part-time job of rearing butterflies, but then read that only one in ten make it from egg to butterfly in the wild. Last year I cared for 86 caterpillars, released 80 butterflies, with only six that didn’t make it for one reason or another. He admitted my success rate was worth the effort.

If you look closely at the little spot my finger is pointing to in the photo above left, that’s a monarch caterpillar just hatched from it’s tiny pearl of an egg which had been deposited by a female butterfly on the underside of a milkweed leaf. In the photo to the right, there are 11 caterpillars of various sizes of growth milling around as I quickly clean out their temporary enclosure.

Below left is the zippered net enclosure that holds these guys from caterpillar through chrysalis stage. This year I’ve taken to filling a discarded water bottle with stalks of milkweed as a food source for the caterpillars. It keeps the leaves fresher longer and cuts down on my time spent feeding them. Otherwise, I was replenishing the entire milkweed batch daily, and counting heads every time to be sure I didn’t “throw the babies out with the bathwater.” It was taking me about two hours a day to do that—truly a part-time job. Now, I do the “big clean” every four days, with fresh sprigs tucked in daily to supplement what’s there.

After a couple weeks of eating, the caterpillars are wonderfully big (a couple inches long) and plump. When they feel ready for their transmutation, they crawl to the net ceiling (above right), or onto a branch I’ve included in the enclosure. They tack themselves in place with a webbing of sorts and then hang in a “J” shape for maybe a day. Then, poof!, all of a sudden they’re a green chrysalis. In all these years, I’ve kinda seen the transition once. I’ll keep checking, but it’s when I’m not looking it happens. It’s pretty amazing though—Youtube has videos you could watch.

As the chrysalis’ age, they change. First, they develop a beautiful circlet of golden dots on the bright green case. Then as the process completes (about 10 days) and the butterfly gets close to emerging, the case slowly turns black, or so it seems. Actually it gets clear and you can see the wing coloration through it (upper left). And then, another poof!, and there’s a butterfly hanging there. They first come out a bit crumpled, but they kinda drip dry and the wings smooth out (upper right).

The beautiful specimen above is a boy. You can tell by the black dots—like a bulge in the lines—in the center of his lower wings. On females, the lines are straight. This year I decided to sign on with Monarch Watch, a non-profit that keeps track of the numbers and migration habits of these butterflies. In Maine, we’re on the eastern migration route that takes them from Mexico to Canada and back each year. It astounds me, all the more since this migration is begun and finished by multiple generations within the year! It’s a feat that I find hard to wrap my head around, and it’s done by these little feather-weight creatures.

Anyway, I tag them with small dots (below) that give contact info for Monarch Watch. It would be very cool to once-in-awhile find out where one my butterflies gets to. One day recently, eight butterflies were ready to send off. They hung out for awhile as they exercised their wings, then poof!, they were gone. So far, 34 Monarchs tagged and released. Bon Voyage.

And finally, as far as rescued critters go, the feral cat I mentioned in last year’s summer post has found his home at my parent’s house next door. It’s kind of an amazing transition in itself as this cat ran from us for at least a couple years, summer and winter. It’s like he decided our family would be alright, first gradually approaching me, then accepting the shelter—and easy food—of a house. He likes his cat treats and belly rubs and sleeps curled up next to my dad. And though “Cookie” makes himself scarce when our dogs are visiting, he’s best buds with my sister’s dog, Binx.

Family Time

Being home means that I can take a little time here and there with my family, since my parents live next door and my sister lives just down the road. It’s not too hard to get my mom (above) out to one of the three local weekly farmer’s markets for a short outing. She’s very personable and is always on the hunt for some good goat cheese.

I just have to be prepared to keep up with her—if I hang back to stand in a line or pay for some goodies, she keeps going. It then becomes a “Where’s Mama?” hunt to find her in the crowd (below).

Just last weekend was an arts fair in the neighboring town. Fun to check out all the creative work, and a nice stroll for my mom along with a friend of mine and her brazen little Yorkie, Claire.

The summertime thing I do with my sis, is Maine State Music Theater season tickets. We take our kids with us, we each have one, and it’s meant to be a night out with them. In reality, it’s a night out with each other since the young adults tend to show up for the show and disappear in their own cars soon after. But we got even by posing for selfies with the Saturday Night Fever disco ball. Remember that era?

At the Shore

We live on a peninsula in a town that is said to have the longest coastline in the US, and I’ve heard, in the world. Not so much of a stretch to imagine if you consider all the coves, inlets, and islands that make up the two fingers of Harpswell, Maine. Kayaking is a natural recreational sport. Tom has taken it a step further as a Maine Kayak Guide, but he also gets out on his own, and comes back with some beautiful photos.

Getting out early in the morning is the key for the best light and the (usually) calmest water. One morning we got out early and took one last paddle toward some rocks that seals hang out on, when he saw a disturbance in the water. Tom’s dad was a lobsterman and Tom grew up noticing the way water moves. It was a small school of pogies—fish low on the food chain that seals and bluefish eat, and lobstermen catch as bait for their lobster traps.

That’s me above, keeping my paddle out of the water as I drift over the school of fish. Looking down, you could see a spiraling center. It was like a tornado of fish—a fishnado! As we drifted across, the school formed a very distinct wall of fish bodies, disappearing into the depths. We turned and followed them again, and again, and again—for at least an hour.

Tom had along a small point-and-shoot camera that works underwater. He positioned his boat over the school, quietly submerging the camera and getting both photos and videos of the swirling fish. When we got home, Tom edited the videos into a short informative video of the pogies of Middle (Casco) Bay.

In the mornings, we take the dogs for a walk to the shore, 1/2 mile from our house, where the road ends as a town boat launch. Little Kali dog loves to leap at water—from the bay, a shower, or the watering can—and she will gaze intently at you until you cooperate with her wishes.

Felix dog has taken to swimming this year, it only took him three years to decide it was ok. So I go down in my water shoes now (it’s a very rocky shoreline) to lure him in farther than he’d go otherwise. A good way to cool off for both of us.

What can you say about dogs, they’re creatures of habit and it’s fun to fall into habits with them. At the farmer’s market, I buy corn on the cob as much for Felix’s enjoyment as my own. See how he helps me prep the corn for cooking in the video below.

Family Trip

As you blog readers may remember, we took a short family vacation a couple weeks ago—for three days on Mount Desert Island. As we checked camping gear prior to hitting the road, the dogs stuck close and entertained themselves and us—see video above.

Mount Desert Island is 3-1/2 hours up the coast and home to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park, hugely popular summer destinations and a little risky for my crowd-adverse husband. However, we made reservations at a campsite on the “quiet side” side of the island—opposite these attractions, avoided the weekends, and as it turned out, did not have the best weather forecast. So it wasn’t too bad. We left pets and caterpillars in the capable hands of my sister, mother-in-law, and next door neighbor.

The thundershowers moved through on two of the nights, and our tents proved waterproof. Day two “dawned” very foggy, so we drove up Cadillac Mountain in Acadia NP, the highest peak on the eastern coast of the US and the first point to see the light of day in the US, on sunny mornings, that is.

As we drove up the winding road, Sam kept questioning our destination choice, as again and again, scenic points were completely obscured by fog. I remarked that: first, we were certainly going to avoid the crowds; second, fog makes for really interesting photos; and third, you never know, the clouds may part when we get there. And darned if I wasn’t right on all three points. We parked (no trouble finding parking) and started on the loop trail at the summit. As we walked toward a foggy edge, the wind began to part the clouds in front of us, and the town of Bar Harbor appeared below. Then as we stood there, it closed up again, like a Maine version of Brigadoon. And Tom got it on the video clip above.

Tom and I put our Acadia photos into the slide show below, numbered with Day One, Two, and Three. For brief explanations:

”¢ Day One—renting bikes and sweating our way up one slope after another along the carriage roads (hiking, biking, or horseback riding only) of Acadia Nat’l Park—a bucket list item for me, Sam loved it, and we completed about 12 miles of trails.

”¢ Day Two—the Cadillac Mountain Summit drive (with Sam’s girlfriend Macey, joining us), then exploring Bar Harbor and walking the sandbar to Bar Island.

”¢ Day Three—picture-postcard-perfect Bass Harbor Lighthouse, Bass Harbor, beautiful Ship Harbor Trail, and Beech Mountain Cliff Trail.

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Since Macey had joined us, we headed home in two cars. Tom and I made brief stops on our way off the island at quirky places that caught my eye—captured in a final slide show below.

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