Flannel and Oatmeal mornings

If I had to characterize Maine in one thought, it would be with flannel and oatmeal mornings. And maybe the woods through the fog, taking out the dog and walking through grass wet with dew.

I am told this is not a "typical" summer (but then when, these days at least, is weather ever "typical"?) and farmers are worrying about harvests as a result of the earlier dry spell and now the protracted overcast, rainy and cooler weather. It is showing me that -- once we have "home" secured, a greenhouse of some sort will be essential for the next season. But it also feels wonderful to my soul. I have spent too long in the southlands, shrinking from the sun and heat for months upon months on end.

One of my friends commented that this is September weather, and it does remind me of last fall when I was here camping. I started each day in a jacket or some sort of long sleeves and ended it the same way... layering so I could shed to a t-shirt during mid-day and only once being glad -- as the temp hit a NC norm -- that I had packed one sleeveless top.

Today and tomorrow the high will not get out of the 60s, the weather guessers say. If my boss were in today I would for sure have to wear long sleeves as the man loves cool weather even more than I do. He is on river today and tomorrow but I will likely wear one of the new long sleeve tops I got at a yard sale today anyway. My tomatoes have yet to give me a ripe one, so I am seeing that this garden thing, here in Maine, will be different that anywhere else I have lived... But I will continue to research short season varieties, build a greenhouse and learn to love row covers as much as I love foggy, flannel and oatmeal mornings.

Especially when they come with blueberries that I picked by my own hand.