New England in Autumn

New Englanders are hearty people. Old folks there keep going like the Energizer bunny. I can only guess it's a strength borne of a lifetime of having to get where they're going in the snow, ice, or rain. A strength borne of shoveling snow, carrying in wood and walking the dog on a sheet of ice. And they come from hearty stock: their European ancestors left everything they knew, braving the Atlantic Ocean to land on these shores.

Damariscotta, Maine
Photo by Susan E Hance



A nod to another strength of the

northern climate;  the south has nothing on New England for their summer insects. Mosquitos and black flies bite with a passion in New England. I can only guess that they Frankenstein quickly to beat the rapidly approaching end of summer.

There's a saying that a farmer wonders every winter why he lives there, but every spring he gets his answer. I would suggest it is the fall in New England that makes living there worthwhile. (In addition to the wonderful people, the way they talk and the "lobstah").

In autumn, leaves of every color sparkle in sunlight and reflect in water. White clapboard churches and inviting homes dot the landscape. Birds busy themselves around birdfeeders and flowers take their last glorious breath before resting a while.

When I visited there recently, I thought how easy it would be to live among the bright colors, brisk days and still water until winter came. Even then, a quiet snowfall could calm the spirit.

Now I know where my friend gets some of her strength. Many of us draw power and meaning from our places on this earth.



Bar Harbor, Maine
Photo by Susan E Hance