 For a decade or two, my Big Wolf summer visits have been in late summer, late July at the earliest. Now, the deep, sturdy green of August and September is weeks in the future, when undergrowth will stiffen and dry, berries will ripen and fall. June wanderings present a unique atmosphere, the fresh, limey green of springtime. Now the raspberry blooms have barely faded; hard, seeded berries brace for reddening. Here, just past solstice, the sun sets at it furthest north over Mt. Matumbla, lengthening twilight past 9:30pm. The delicate leaves of young foliage adorn the woods; early flowers brighten the glades. Birdsong, too, is of a different quality. Babies are just fledging, so bird parents are scolding and instructing. We’ve encountered two eight-duckling families. Duck mamas lead quiet parades across the water, teaching them stillness. What a treat to reacquaint with this beloved world in its tender, blossoming days. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 306: 150 words, TOTAL = 50,393; 9,607 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
January 2021
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