6 July 2024 (high noon)
Kristen Lindquist
high noon
a firefly pausing briefly
on a fern frond
Book of Days
BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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Filtering by Tag: fireflies
10 June 2024 (new moon)
Kristen Lindquist
new moon . . .
fireflies mingle
in the scent of lilacs
30 June 2021 (heat)
Kristen Lindquist
heat wave
a scattering of fireflies
in the dry grass
4 June 2020 (fireflies)
Kristen Lindquist
rumors of fireflies…
a glimpse of the moon
before it sets
July 31: Crickets
Kristen Lindquist
what happened
to the fireflies?
first crickets
July 2: Dusk
Kristen Lindquist
waiting for fireflies
three deer in the lower field
a bat overhead
 |
| Spending Fourth of July weekend at Claybrook Mountain Lodge |
Posted with BlogsyJune 21: Shortest night
Kristen Lindquist
June 16: Fireflies
Kristen Lindquist
July 4 - 6: In the North Woods
Kristen Lindquist
Another travelogue:
My husband Paul and I headed up to the North Woods for the long holiday weekend, staying two nights at the Appalachian Mountain Club's Gorman Chairbank Lodge and Cabins. This was hardly roughing it: our log cabin featured a comfy bed and wood stove, and we were served sumptuous, family-style meals (and drinks) in the main lodge, which also housed a sitting area/library and bright, clean bathrooms with hot showers--all running off-the-grid. We were grateful for this comfort, as it made the wet weather bearable.
The theme of the weekend seemed to be WATER. We drove up on the Fourth of July, saw a cow moose feeding in a pond on the way. Ate lunch in Greenville while watching rain fall on Moosehead Lake from inside a restaurant with a leaking roof. Then we hit the muddy dirt roads and drove east into the woods to the camp. Once there, Paul fished off the dock for a while. That night, we listened to the syncopation of raindrops on the metal roof of our cabin while loons called from the pond.
Saturday we'd intended to hike into Gulf Hagas, "the Grand Canyon of the East," via the Hermitage, a stand of very old white pines along the Appalachian Trail, just across the West Branch of the Pleasant River and below the gorge itself. Thanks to the continuing rain, however, that trail, which requires one to ford the swollen river, was closed. The AMC rangers didn't want anyone washing away downriver. So we hiked in the rain to the Head of the Gulf (the "start" of Gulf Hagas) via a longer, very saturated, slick trail. It was worth it. The rain eventually stopped and the drama of Gulf Hagas could be fully appreciated, as it was running full and high, serious whitewater. We slipped and slid our way along the rim past three different sets of falls (Stair, Billings, Buttermilk; didn't quite make it to The Jaws), then sloshed back up the trail across (and through) many pretty, gushing feeder streams, including a few streams that disappeared into holes in the ground to resurface a few yards downhill.
Rain spatters on leaves,
Buttermilk Falls churns--
we barely hear the wren.
Delicate things persist
amid the torrents:
ferns, lichens, bird song.
Undeterred by rain, us,
thrushes share wild flutesongs
across the wet trail.
Wild strawberries
at trail's end--
slugs found them too.
Last night the sky cleared over the pond just before sunset, touching the treetops with rich golden light. We indulged in hot showers and cranked up the wood stove, before enjoying a big turkey dinner in the Lodge. Before bed, Paul fly-fished in a nearby beaver flowage. Stars shone. High above the pond, the half moon danced closely with Mars and Saturn. Loons called across the pond. Life was good.
Today the river was still running too high for us to attempt a crossing to the Hermitage. So instead we hiked up Laurie's Ledge Trail to a viewpoint from which we could see spruce-topped mountains unfold all the way to Katahdin. Toads and frogs hopped along the still-wet trail, and thrushes and warblers sang amid the dense, leafy forest. We checked out nearby Little Lyford Lodge and Cabins, another AMC camp, then headed out of the woods. In Greenville, before we turned south for home, we enjoyed an excellent lobster crepe at a food truck, Cafe Crepe (which we were happy to learn is also in Freeport). All good adventures should end thus, with an excellent meal.
Garter snake suns
on our cabin step--
a simple valediction.
From atop a log
toad's golden eyes, staring.
So that's his magic...
Lunch on Moosehead Lake.
Next table, float plane pilot
sets up new charters.
My husband Paul and I headed up to the North Woods for the long holiday weekend, staying two nights at the Appalachian Mountain Club's Gorman Chairbank Lodge and Cabins. This was hardly roughing it: our log cabin featured a comfy bed and wood stove, and we were served sumptuous, family-style meals (and drinks) in the main lodge, which also housed a sitting area/library and bright, clean bathrooms with hot showers--all running off-the-grid. We were grateful for this comfort, as it made the wet weather bearable.
The theme of the weekend seemed to be WATER. We drove up on the Fourth of July, saw a cow moose feeding in a pond on the way. Ate lunch in Greenville while watching rain fall on Moosehead Lake from inside a restaurant with a leaking roof. Then we hit the muddy dirt roads and drove east into the woods to the camp. Once there, Paul fished off the dock for a while. That night, we listened to the syncopation of raindrops on the metal roof of our cabin while loons called from the pond.
Raindrops and fish rises
pockmark the water.
Across the pond, wren sings.
Even in heavy rain
fireflies flash
under the dark pines.
Buttermilk Falls churns--
we barely hear the wren.
Delicate things persist
amid the torrents:
ferns, lichens, bird song.
Undeterred by rain, us,
thrushes share wild flutesongs
across the wet trail.
Wild strawberries
at trail's end--
slugs found them too.
Last night the sky cleared over the pond just before sunset, touching the treetops with rich golden light. We indulged in hot showers and cranked up the wood stove, before enjoying a big turkey dinner in the Lodge. Before bed, Paul fly-fished in a nearby beaver flowage. Stars shone. High above the pond, the half moon danced closely with Mars and Saturn. Loons called across the pond. Life was good.
Today the river was still running too high for us to attempt a crossing to the Hermitage. So instead we hiked up Laurie's Ledge Trail to a viewpoint from which we could see spruce-topped mountains unfold all the way to Katahdin. Toads and frogs hopped along the still-wet trail, and thrushes and warblers sang amid the dense, leafy forest. We checked out nearby Little Lyford Lodge and Cabins, another AMC camp, then headed out of the woods. In Greenville, before we turned south for home, we enjoyed an excellent lobster crepe at a food truck, Cafe Crepe (which we were happy to learn is also in Freeport). All good adventures should end thus, with an excellent meal.
 |
| Backpackers bolder than us fording the waist-deep currents of the West Branch of the Pleasant River under the close eye of the AMC ranger one full day after the rain stopped. |
on our cabin step--
a simple valediction.
From atop a log
toad's golden eyes, staring.
So that's his magic...
Lunch on Moosehead Lake.
Next table, float plane pilot
sets up new charters.
June 27-29: Weekend at Claybrook Mountain Lodge
Kristen Lindquist
Visited the mountains of western Maine for a three-day birding weekend guided by my friend Derek of Freeport Wild Bird Supply, and based at Claybrook Mountain Lodge. The Lodge, in Highland Plantation, is owned by dear friends Greg and Pat Drummond, and Greg also helped guide us around the area.
We visited quaking bogs, beaver ponds, the shores of Flagstaff Lake, meadows full of wildflowers, and wooded trails throughout the area, often with the dramatic Bigelow Mountains looming in the background. In addition to the Lodge's rustic charm and comfort, Pat's excellent cooking, Greg's storytelling, and the beautiful natural setting on a perfect Maine summer weekend, the group enjoyed many excellent birding adventures.
Our first evening as we sat on the porch of the Lodge, we were serenaded by tree frogs and peepers. We walked down the road at dusk, and Derek tried calling in a Barred Owl. As it grew darker, more and more fireflies flashed in the fields.
Highlights: Swainson's Thrush and Veery singing into dusk, sapsucker couple tending nestlings at a nest hole, night sky teeming with stars.
Last sunlight lingers
up on the mountain ridge.
Tree frogs begin to sing.
While waiting for owls,
I catch fireflies.
Stars too blink on.
Firefly blinking
on my bedroom window sill--
perfect night light.
Saturday we visited several bogs, drove dirt roads, wandered bug- and warbler-filled woods trails to beaver ponds, and ate lunch at a private beach on Flagstaff Lake where I got in my first swim of summer. At dusk, we paused near several fields hoping to hear a Whip-poor-will.
Highlights: Bluebird family at the Lodge, Snowshoe Hares, bog flora, bitterns, whinnying snipe, a single Palm Warbler, White Admiral butterflies everywhere, a very aggressive baby Garter Snake, bird accidentally flushed from a ground nest while I was trying to photograph a patch of Twinflower, several dainty does, more sapsucker nest holes full of whining nestlings, Common Merganser carrying her chicks on her back across the lake, dozens of roadside moose and deer tracks, Hooded Merganser hen with chicks on a glassy pond at sunset, spectacular firefly light show, a single bat.
Patch of pitcher plants--
red-veined cups of rain
offered up to the morning.
Baby garter snake
strikes without hesitation
Greg's much larger hand.
Sorry, mother bird.
I didn't know those flowers
were hiding your nest.
Such a hot day
the underwear I swam in
dries under my clothes.
Instead of Whip-poor-wills--
baying hound dog,
campers' fireworks.
This morning, we visited several regenerating clear cuts in our quest for a Mourning Warbler and explored the ferny, wooded trails around the Lodge. Our birding adventure finished up with a visit to Gilman Pond and some nearby farm fields and wetlands in North New Portland, where we flushed a bittern and a family of snipes.
Highlights: Mourning Warbler at last (warbler species #19 for the trip), telephone pole chewed thin by bears, a sweep of Maine's frog species, vocal baby snipes!
Sun-warmed wild berries
picked along the trail--
sweetness with a little grit.
On the mountainside
patch of clear cut forest
a different shade of green.
Flushed bittern--
we watch it flap out of sight
slowly over the marsh.
We visited quaking bogs, beaver ponds, the shores of Flagstaff Lake, meadows full of wildflowers, and wooded trails throughout the area, often with the dramatic Bigelow Mountains looming in the background. In addition to the Lodge's rustic charm and comfort, Pat's excellent cooking, Greg's storytelling, and the beautiful natural setting on a perfect Maine summer weekend, the group enjoyed many excellent birding adventures.
Our first evening as we sat on the porch of the Lodge, we were serenaded by tree frogs and peepers. We walked down the road at dusk, and Derek tried calling in a Barred Owl. As it grew darker, more and more fireflies flashed in the fields.
Highlights: Swainson's Thrush and Veery singing into dusk, sapsucker couple tending nestlings at a nest hole, night sky teeming with stars.
Last sunlight lingers
up on the mountain ridge.
Tree frogs begin to sing.
While waiting for owls,
I catch fireflies.
Stars too blink on.
Firefly blinking
on my bedroom window sill--
perfect night light.
Saturday we visited several bogs, drove dirt roads, wandered bug- and warbler-filled woods trails to beaver ponds, and ate lunch at a private beach on Flagstaff Lake where I got in my first swim of summer. At dusk, we paused near several fields hoping to hear a Whip-poor-will.
Highlights: Bluebird family at the Lodge, Snowshoe Hares, bog flora, bitterns, whinnying snipe, a single Palm Warbler, White Admiral butterflies everywhere, a very aggressive baby Garter Snake, bird accidentally flushed from a ground nest while I was trying to photograph a patch of Twinflower, several dainty does, more sapsucker nest holes full of whining nestlings, Common Merganser carrying her chicks on her back across the lake, dozens of roadside moose and deer tracks, Hooded Merganser hen with chicks on a glassy pond at sunset, spectacular firefly light show, a single bat.
red-veined cups of rain
offered up to the morning.
strikes without hesitation
Greg's much larger hand.
I didn't know those flowers
were hiding your nest.
Such a hot day
the underwear I swam in
dries under my clothes.
Instead of Whip-poor-wills--
baying hound dog,
campers' fireworks.
This morning, we visited several regenerating clear cuts in our quest for a Mourning Warbler and explored the ferny, wooded trails around the Lodge. Our birding adventure finished up with a visit to Gilman Pond and some nearby farm fields and wetlands in North New Portland, where we flushed a bittern and a family of snipes.
Highlights: Mourning Warbler at last (warbler species #19 for the trip), telephone pole chewed thin by bears, a sweep of Maine's frog species, vocal baby snipes!
picked along the trail--
sweetness with a little grit.
On the mountainside
patch of clear cut forest
a different shade of green.
Flushed bittern--
we watch it flap out of sight
slowly over the marsh.