Mere Point Seasons

Another summer season has begun and we have been busy opening the cottage in preparation for the arrival of family and friends. This is where we live for nearly four months of the year. It is simple living in a location blessed with beautiful views. I would rather be on Mere Point than anywhere else on earth...at least until winter! In winter I want to hurry home to the thicker walls of the old Victorian farmhouse.

I've spent the last few days teasing my Mere Point photos away from a bloated set of Maine images on my Flickr page. It has been an interesting and, occasionally, demoralizing exercise.  I could go back and edit the unsuccessful shots, but have decided to leave the record of my photography attempts through the seasons in a place I love. Obvious to me are the results from the year my glasses prescription was sadly out-of-date, or the time my computer screen faded. The latter happened so slowly and subtly that  I wasn't even aware of it.

It was fascinating to scroll through the months, to track the angle of the sun and travel through the translucent greens of spring to the rusty golds of autumn. Below is a selection from my week's time travel.




The grass is always in need of cutting when we arrive in spring...a task made so much harder by the delicate carpet of bluets.




The first tender greens of new leaves at the end of the point.




A fairy wand and a collection of Nancy Drew, sweet reminders from previous summers.






Lupine at the edge of the bank and a rain spattered window, so typical of June. Even now, the days can be raw and chilly and there are few boats in the water.




Day lilies brighten the view from the cottage window in July.




In July, there are soft summery evenings and sunsets over coppery water, still as glass.






Open windows welcome warm August breezes and the morning calm of the bay.





The light changes and the colors deepen in autumn. Our time left on Mere Point is now numbered by the hours.





On a winter's visit, the bay is frozen although the sun is golden on the trees and fence along the dirt road in front of the cottage. The wind is fierce and bites through the layers of sweaters and jackets we are wearing. The house looks empty and forlorn. We hurry back to the warmth of the car.