Summer has been in high season. You’ll never eat better corn, fresher tomatoes. But the first apples are ready for picking, the nights are cooler and the day’s heat lacks conviction. Summer at this point is a party, but the party is already over.

August in northern New England is poignant, a curtain call for the green earth, the summer’s heat and the gardens. Morning sea smoke will soon herald the after party. You’re all invited!