Good morning everyone. Maine has received it fair share of precipitation these last few weeks like much of the rest of New England. Folks inland must be sprouting gills by now. We have been quite lucky managing to avoid the bulk of the rain. The Earl of Sawn‚Äôs tells me his garden has failed from too much of a good thing. He passed us by in a motorboat as we were headed for the ‚ÄúBar‚Äù and he waved us to come visit his home overlooking Mackerel Cove but the hills of Acadia were calling.
We had a noontime picnic yesterday on lovely Pond Island (one of several in this area). The wind came onshore as advertised and we had a lovely sail across lower Blue Hill Bay and our by the Duck Is. It was a gloriously sunny day‚Ä¶ one to be savored. Last night at sunset the first wisps of fog came rolling in over Cadillac Mt and the signs were quite plain that fog would settling in upon us. Here aboard the schooner we enjoyed good music and the gentle patter of moisture being strained form the atmosphere by the fog. I went for a run this morning and one old timer ashore acknowledged the good morning with his only misgiving being the fog the has once again limited the senses. I call this a Cranberry fog.
Fog comes in a variety of shades: pearl gray, mist gray, battleship gray. The skiffs tied up at the dock presented a variety of colors that made me think this was a Cranberry gray. Here at Ilseford on Little Cranberry Island the colorful skiffs captured my delight making me wish I had brought my camera. I had I been ashore at any other island the skiffs would have been painted with a different brush, if they were painted at all, sometimes dependent on the color of the clapboards ashore. The fog doesn‚Äôt limit my senses. As a matter of fact it enhances senses dulled by the over-stimulated sunshine of yesterday. The spiders webs on the lawns predict that this too fade with the brightening warmth of the day.
Well, folks are coming back from walks ashore. I can hear the chatter on deck, comparisons of who saw what and who met whom. Little girls selling lemonade become roadside celebrities. Summer artists create works that we all want to bring home. Lobster traps along the pier and the smell of bait wafting from the fisherman‚Äôs co-op are all the art I need. It is all the good stuff of islandness.
Have a great day. Be well. Do good.