Six months ago today…

“I took a day to search for God,
And found Him not; but as I trod,


By rocky ledge, through woods untamed,
Just where one scarlet lily flamed,


I saw His footprint in the sod.”

~William Bliss Carman


We came across these Wood Lilies clustered in a grassy area at the summit of Sargent Mtn. in Maine, 6 months ago today.
They’re the native lilies, not like the invasive Daylilies that crowd our ditches—and they bloom with their faces upward. In many areas, they’re threatened, but on this mountaintop they’ve remained safe.
Like beacons, they bloom, magnificent in the bright sunshine.



As the rain pelts my window, another gray day is forecast for tomorrow.
But, I recall wood lilies and granite.
I know what it feels like to be on top of the world.

Have you seen...

Between Acadia Mountain and Flying Mountain the trail dips deep into the woods.
The bright, exposed rock face is replaced by spongy ground


—thick, mosses perforated by sparkling, cool brooks.
And rich color.

A stump, no longer living for itself, now provides life for something smaller. Covered in greens and blues and browns—slowly it returns to the earth.


Dainty, bright orange mushrooms (Hygrophorus reai?) congregate beneath the trees.


The earth’s richness, food for beauty.


Pickerel Frog, Acadia National Park

"Have you seen...." is an effort to discover the unusual beauty in things not usually appreciated for their beauty.

A ghost of the past

Along the trail to Flying Mountain, in a dense, green, heavily wooded area—it appeared against the shaded darkness. Even in the shadows, its white silhouette stood out in clear contrast to the deep, rich tones of the woods.
And, though I hadn’t seen one in many years, I immediately recognized it as being familiar to me. Funny, how just a second’s look instantly triggers a memory. An Indian Pipe, a ghost from the past, seen once, long ago.

Monotropa uniflora, with its eerie character, has an unusual life. Easily confused with fungi, it is actually a flowering plant. What makes it so unique is its lack of chlorophyll—the green coloring essential for photosynthesis.
Instead of generating its own energy from sunlight, it lives as a mycoheterotroph, in the darkness beneath its host tree in very shaded woods. In a mycoheterotrophic (phew) relationship, the host, usually a conifer or deciduous tree, is photosynthetic. A fungus in the soil acts as the middleman connecting the Indian Pipe above, to the nutrients in the tree's roots below.
This complex 3-piece relationship makes propagation difficult—the seed of the Indian Pipe must quickly form the fungi connection in order to grow. Indian Pipes, also known as ghost flower or ice plant, are native to dark, dense woods of North America, and are described as scarce to rare in occurrence.
Read more about Monotropa uniflora here and here.

Approaching a difficult subject

Last Monday was our much-anticipated "puffin/whale watch" trip. Tickets in hand, and after having our bags searched (yes, I for some reason always get chosen for the "random" search), we boarded the boat--a 112-foot long, multi-million dollar catamaran, the Friendship V. After the obligatory safety instructions and warnings about losing your hats and glasses (yeah, right!) we emerged gracefully from the harbor. We had wonderful seats right up front, top deck.
A naturalist sits high atop the upper deck, bundled in a heavy jacket and woolen cap, a hint of what's to come--with powerful binoculars and a microphone, describing everything he sees in terms of a clock face. Sooty Shearwater at 2 o'clock. Fulmars at 10 o'clock. Cormorant--oops, just dove under at 3 o'clock. Heads turn and necks crane in a perfectly choreographed dance.
As soon as we cleared the harbor, we began to pick up speed--considerable speed. And when you're on the open ocean, with no cabin for protection, 40 miles per hour feels not only fast--it's freezing! Soon, land disappears and the line between sea and sky is a blue blur. Are those buoys? Or birds?

Our first stop was Petit Manan Island, one of the Maine National Wildlife Refuge Complex where Atlantic Puffins have been reestablished.
Researchers live in the white house on this small, pink granite-rimmed island 14 miles off the coast in the Atlantic. The lighthouse, the second tallest in Maine, is the only spot visible when the island is completely lost in fog, 70 days out of the year. What it must be like to live there!
The even smaller white boxes are bird blinds. Arctic Terns are in the air, stirred up from their nesting sites by Peregrines in the area. Those white specks...yes, terns.
And then, there they were--the puffins! Can't see them? Those little black specks bobbing around a few feet off shore. Actually, this is my one GOOD picture of them. Boats on water sway and bounce and the breezes are whipping at my sleeves. My eyes stopped watering just in time to focus. (Julie Zickefoose has really nice Puffin pictures.)
But it was enough for me to know they were there. The success of the birds is an indicator of the health of the ocean--the strength of their environment, the efforts to preserve and restore their habitats. And knowing that populations are growing--even if you can only see a speck bobbing in the water, is a wonderful thing.

My other bird photos are equally frustrating.
Climbing along the steep, granite sloping trail, dense spruce-fir forest, camera tucked safely in waist-pack, water bottle swinging--and then, there he is on a branch! We've been hearing his beautiful song every day we hike, but never see the Hermit Thrush! He lights on a branch right beside us! Flip, zip, snap, zoom, click! Ta-da!
Or how about a lovely, still morning on the ocean near Bartlett Island, on the western rim? Gear safely stowed in a "dry bag", paddle in hand...
Some loud cries, commotion in those trees--an osprey nest at the very top!
Now where should I stick this paddle while I try to unwrap my very dry camera? And, how easy is it really to pop off that kayak skirt if we capsize? (Safety drills must be given for some reason--hopefully not me!)

And, is that a loon? Common Loon--hurry, before he dives. I'll paddle while you shoot...oops--did you get him?

My final attempt--if that wave would just...and those birds would stop...

Need a closer look? Check out Sibley's, page 94.

It seems that everything that we did that allowed us the most intimate contacts with wildlife, either on the water or on the trail, were not the sort of activities that make it easy to have a long lens hanging around your neck. I was always wrapping or unwrapping the camera--and, by then, many shots were lost. Next time--I'm going to go and just SIT.

Acadia National Park, a most perfect place

In the last twenty years, we've chosen Acadia National Park on Mount Desert Island in Maine as our hiking destination 4 times. And, as much as we feel we thoroughly explore the island each time we're there, its magnificence amazes me again with each return visit.
The Island, though small is packed with over 120 miles of hiking trails, 45 miles of carriage roads, now converted to bike trails, crystal clear mountain lakes, pink granite peaks and rugged, rocky ocean shores. There is beauty around every corner--stunning ocean views opposite glassy blue lakes, the scent of balsam in the air and hermit thrushes as hiking partners. The air is light and the sun, bright (usually). And every time our week is finished, I regret having to leave this most perfect place.

Lobster boats in Bar Harbor, Porcupine Islands in background

Tide going out to reveal the bar, connecting Bar Island to Mount Desert Island

Sand Beach in fog, as seen from Gorham Mtn trail

Waves off coast near Thunder Hole

View north on Long Pond, between Mansell Mtn and Beech Mtn

Water lilies at Witch Hole Pond

Pickerel-weed in Beaver pond off carriage road

Afternoon sun on moss through spruce-fir woods

Hiking trail marked with blue blaze

Pink granite with lichens and wild blueberries

Low-bush blueberries amidst reindeer lichens on mtn summits

Summit of Sargent Mtn, 1373 ft.

Barren top, Sargent Mtn summit, family in the distance

View from Sargent Mtn over ocean and Cranberry Islands

Cadillac Mtn, most heavily traveled of all, reminders for careless feet

Sun rising over Atlantic from Cadillac Mtn,
the highest point on the eastern seaboard and first in US to see the sun rise.
Porcupine Islands off Bar Harbor covered in clouds.

A week in Maine.

"Keep close to Nature's heart...
and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods.
Wash your spirit clean..."
~John Muir

Sunset from Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park, July 22, 2007