Notes from Maine - 2025/06/08
I’m sitting on the front porch and suffering from a constant stream of bird invectives. The birds are pretty—they’re sitting on the limbs of the black walnut tree that shades the front lawn and the road. Google suggests they might be house finches? That would make sense, because they desperately want to build a nest on my house. There’s a column on the corner of the house and the cap under the porch roof is a great place for a nest. They’ve been trying to weave together the black walnut catkins (the strands of flowers) to make their nest, and I’ve been trying to discourage them gently. I don’t mind nests in the eaves of the barn, but front-porch birds are inconvenient. One year there was a nest in a hanging flower pot and we couldn’t use the porch because the parents wouldn’t feed their babies while we were nearby. With a million trees around here, there should be better places for a nest.
Today, I’m sitting out here so they don’t even try to build. I guess that’s why they’re cussing me in bird tongue. It is Hot today for early June. This morning the temperature is already 83°F (28°C). Some years we have overnight frost this time of year, so this weather is welcome. Years ago, my family used to participate in the Trek Across Maine. My first was in 1993. Between me, Mom, my sisters, aunts, and others, we had a presence in the Trek for decades. I can remember one year when everyone came back from a ride and we had to start a fire in the wood stove so we could all warm up. The Trek takes place mid-June. In comparison to years like that, this year is Hot.
My sister and mom returned home last weekend. I finished all the laundry pretty fast with one small bump in the road. On my last load I was folding towels and I found a sock. One sock. I’m a tad fanatical about socks. My drawer is full of socks that are all the same brand and color, bought at the same time, so I never have to struggle to match them. This sock wasn’t one of those. It belongs to Mom, and I was plagued by a premonition. The sock had to be in the corner of one of the fitted sheets that I had already folded and boxed. Sure enough, that’s where I eventually found it.
Spring is an explosion here. One day the world is grey and brown, and the next we’re up to our eyeballs in tall grass and flowers. I tried to mow a couple of days ago. Rain chased me back inside. Today, my neighbor is mowing grass that’s already shorter than mine. It feels like an indictment. My immediate neighbors care about yard presentation much more than I do.
Lilly (the little filly) just ran back to the barn. Her mom is still grazing. We have black flies right now and Lilly is not enjoying the experience. She stays with Maybelle as long as she can, grazing and keeping close to her mother’s swishing tail, but eventually she sprints back to the barn for a nap. Earl sticks his head out of his stall and watches over her as she rests in the shade. When she wakes up again, Lilly gallops and kicks her way back to her mother, her tail standing straight up.
