It is now about a week since I returned from Maine, and my photos from this trip could not have fulfilled my goals much better. They seemed to do a superb job of capturing the Fall color change this year, which appeared and then disappeared extremely quickly. When I first arrived in Portland, I was sure that I had come too early; by the end of the trip, I knew that I had fortunately timed the trip exactly right. Had I come a few days earlier or arrived a bit later, it would have been fine, I suppose, and I would probably not have known the difference, but it was superb as it was. People that I ran into from Maine, however, were somewhat disappointed in the Fall this year. Not only was it shorter than last year, but the intensity of color change was somewhat less. That's a tough thing to judge, especially when you don't live there. I think it is probably more of a gestalt feeling that a resident has, because there were unquestionably terrific patches of color brilliance that were absolutely breathtaking. In fact, sometimes after taking a photograph and putting the camera away, I would just sit or stand there for awhile admiring what Mother Nature had wrought. It was often breathtakingly beautiful to the point of tears. The sweetness of the entire experience carried the sound of glorious violin music that simply stirred the soul, a sensation that, for that moment in that space and time, all was right in the world (though that is hardly the case these days). At least, it felt that way for just a brief moment, producing a marvelous memory that will stay for years to come.
