It’s the berries
Along with the lilacs and autumn-olive that fill the air with perfume and form a flowery fringe between sea and sky, we’ve noticed the small white blossoms of wild strawberries on the edges of the fields. Just a handful, scattered in among the bluets and sweet-smelling white violets, they are the advance team for the summer yet to come.
While the wildflowers tend to take shifts along the fences, transitioning like a time-lapse rainbow from white to the pink of wild geraniums to blue cornflowers to the high summer orange of lilies, the wild strawberries transform in place: from leaves to blossoms to fruit. Their five-petal “stars” with the green-yellow centers that will become the berries don’t take much imagination to turn notice into anticipation. Soon (very soon, if the June sun keeps its promises!) we will be savoring the intensity of flavor packed into each one. The blueberries will be next, shape-shifting from flowers to the signature badge of Maine summer.
We feel the same here at Spruce Point. There are moments in the Inn’s “botanical” season – some as literal as the perennials along our drive and the riotous colors of the daylily beds; others more symbolic like the first day we open the windows (unfold the petals?) to the seabreeze.
The wild strawberries of our season are our guests. First, they contact us in ever-growing numbers, like leaves spreading across the ground. Then, the reservations blossom – each an individual, like an upturned face filled with anticipation. Finally, they spill into our rooms, porches and tables, seeming to glow from within from their time in summer sun, starlight and ocean mornings.
Those days lie ahead again. Everything to its season. And finally here!
- The concept of earned value
- Return of the spring. You come, too.
- Aprils and Openers
- Standing limber and spruce with a backdrop of the entrance to Boothbay Harbor
- Green days and patience
- Lifelong learning outside the book on the Midcoast
- The February Sound of Silence
- Adding up the elements of experience
- Boothbay Harbor Nation
- The spruce ‘forest primeval’ and the Ghosts of Christmas present