A friend from Maryland, not far from Washington, D.C., told me about his drive to Maine on Friday, Oct. 10. It wasn’t pretty!    

He said that traffic on “495," heading north, and possibly into Maine, was the heaviest he had ever seen. The trip took quite a bit longer than expected. He left home at 4 a.m. hoping to get a good jump on the drive but instead found that many others had a similar idea which created bottlenecks all along the way. Oh well, he made it and was happy to be back in time to close up the family cottage before the seasonal water shutdown.

This week will see a flurry of activity along our roads as above ground water lines are emptied. The plumbing industry goes into overdrive winterizing properties no longer visited until next year. It’s a process and a common sign for those of us who live here year ‘round. Summer is over,  and fall is here, signaling the beginning of preparations for winter. Get the firewood stock in shape and button up. It’s time to make the donuts!

Autumn, in spite of ominous alerts, has always been my favorite time of year. If we could arrange to have September and October be available more often, I would be a happier camper. The air is different, the skies are more adventurous, there are fewer people, and nicer people who seem to be a little less frantic about vacationing. Shin guards for shopping at Hannaford can be retired until next year!

The more obvious change that occurs in the fall, of course, is the colorful display offered by our maples, oaks, birches and other varieties of trees. Drives along local roads become more  than getting from point A to point B. Travel becomes more like a trip through the woods or along a garden path. There is something calming, to me at least, about our colorful fall. At the same time it is a reminder that time, and daylight, are running out. My internal clock is ticking as things left undone get re-prioritized. When the weeping beeches in our back field and the Gingko beside the pond change color and begin leaf drop, I get the message.

Along the shores, as noted in today’s photo, new collections appear. A chunk of driftwood, perhaps displaced by the big storms,  becomes a new sculpture decorated by present undergrowth. Despite our year of seriously limited rain, some plants are still able to produce vibrant color. There are pockets of trees and bushes that seem to manage better than others, adjusting to the drought.  I’m not sure how this happens, but I am pleased and reminded of nature’s tenacity for which I am grateful.  

Thank you autumn. Last as long as you can. We’ll keep the lights on for you!