Summer in Portland, Maine

It's been a long time since I've posted photographs. Getting out, even on my deck has been difficult; it has rained - heavy, soaking rains - more days than not throughout spring and summer. I haven't lived here long enough to know for certain, but it appears now that fall has already arrived. The days are mostly cloudy, when it's not raining, and cool with temperatures in the low- to mid-60s.

I'm not complaining. I like cool, cloudy weather.

Last winter, the local media tells us, gave us one of the heaviest snowfalls on record, more than twice as much as average. I can attest to that, having lost track about midway through snow season of how many times I dug out my car. This was one of the last, big storms, probably in late March.

The deck is covered and doesn't get too much snow, but it looks rather desolate in winter and hard to recall that it flourishes during midyear.

They tell me here that you can't begin a garden until after 30 May; it might still freeze at night. When I was in New York in April, the tulips and daffodils were already in bloom in the sidewalk planters, but even in June, my deck garden looked sparse. (Note those lilacs on the other side of the fence.)

One morning in June, this appeared in the sky off my deck. What is it about rainbows that make us feel happy?

Remember the lilacs two photos up? The tree - it's much bigger than a bush - is in a neighbor's yard, but the branches overhang my deck, so I cut stole a few this year for the dining table. It is my favorite flower scent - it nearly makes me swoon.

Two months later, in early August, the deck garden has filled out, but I doubt the adjective "lush" can be applied in Maine where the growing season is so short.

Nevertheless, the fresh-green color of the sweet-potato vine cheers me on rainy days and I have always liked the simplicity of plain, white petunias.

They were given a whole new look one recent morning during a pink-hued dawn.

Speaking of pink, this photo almost does the color of this geranium justice, but not quite. In life it is even deeper and more sensuous.

Second only to lilacs, the aroma of hyssop sends me into reveries. This is the most successful group I've grown in Maine and the honeybees think so too. Except in the heaviest rain, they are there every day.

But the real reason for this post today is to celebrate the fourth birthday of my furry companion, Oliver. He has not been allowed on the deck due to this misadventure last year. Which undoubtedly accounts for his pensive mood. I think today, this afternoon, I'll allow him some time out even though it means a lot nagging from him for more.

[At The Elder Storytelling Place today, Clair Zargas explains how she learned the hard - and funny - way about being one of those with Tenderfeet.]