Shooting stars and sun-shot shade in a Spruce Point summer
Watching the Perseids the other night and talking to some of the guests who gathered on the dock to watch the annual meteor display in the skies to the east, it became clear that there’s still tradition at work in the way knowledge is handed down, one generation to the next.
So many Dads, it seems, have taken on the task (and joy) of introducing basic astronomy to their kids. We remember the first time we picked out the constellation of Orion; and getting up in the middle of the night to see the “shooting stars.” For millennia, Dads have watched the heavens, checked the weather (and the tides) and tended the fire. Like wizards, theirs is the realm of fireflies and fishing lines and bike rides along the country roads of August (and their cooling shade), or October (and the glowing leaves.)
Moms seem to know about seashells and wildflowers, birds and butterflies – and can name the exact color of whatever the shade of a leaf or a feather or the rock carried home for admiration from the shore.
There’s no stereotype intended here – we know plenty of women who are masters of the fire at the s’mores parties! – just a retelling of family history as we’ve observed it and hope to share with guests in continuing the traditions of summer and life in coastal Maine.
Here at Spruce Point the traditions are both ancient and just-created. The feel is a balance of the comfortably familiar and the unforgettably new. Crafting that time capsule ultimately ensures that everyone feels welcome here and becomes part of the story that keeps unfolding. And we couldn’t be happier than when we’re pointing out a natural wonder that is at the same time ancient, tribal knowledge … and brand new.
- The spruce ‘forest primeval’ and the Ghosts of Christmas present
- Festivals of trees, lights and straight on til morning
- Over the Rivers
- A Bird's Eye View on the Season
- Native American Heritage and November’s full moon
- Listening to the Trees
- All Things Pumpkin
- Head North: there’s still time
- Into the Maine September woods
- Coming around to apples