A continuation of the journey that began on January 1, 2010, recorded in "a year of getting up to meet the day." After 365 consecutive sunrise outings in that year, I couldn't bear to give up the dawn. This blog (no longer daily) will be informed and inspired by the rising light of the morning sun.


Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Maine's spring equinox / winter hanging on

Last weekend in Maine was exceptionally beautiful.  Everyone was talking about the full moon that rose in gargantuan splendor on Saturday evening, March 20th.  A crystal clear night was in store, with a morning to match  J and I decided it was a good time to head for the coast for a sunrise outing.  He has been wanting to go to a particular lookout spot that has an exquisite eastern view over the ocean.

It was a day that makes you happy to be a Mainer.  On our way south, we could see that same luminous moon on its way down.  It didn't disappear until just before the sun showed its face.

The dogs had breakfast in the grass as the sun rose.  After sunrise, we went to Camden for human breakfast, then climbed Mt. Battie, where Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote her famous poem:  Renascence  The poem begins with three mountains and a wood, and three small islands in a bay.  Then it travels to the sky's infinity, to death buried in earth, and back again to bursting life.  It was an immediate sensation when she wrote it - quite astonishing for a 20 year old woman in 1912.  Standing in that place...you can feel a hint of what inspired her.

From there we could see Blue Hill in the distance, on the next peninsula up the coast.  Neither of us had ever climbed it - so off we went. 

You could explore the Maine coast all your life -- its endless peninsulas, coves, and little islands -- and never see it all. 

Nothing beats the satisfaction of three worn out dogs at the end of the day.  There are March days that rival any other time of year.  This was one of them.


In contrast - here are some photos from this morning - March 22nd.  You can't make assumptions about seasonal transitions around here.

But - the red-winged blackbird was singing his burrring song in the snowy treetops.  Despite appearances, spring will not be stopped.

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