As summer fades, as the mercury begins to drop and the cars and campers and mobile homes from Connecticut and Massachusetts and Pennsylvania vanish down Route 95, it is time once more to begin enjoying the rest of the year – the Maine that the summer folks don’t know about.

Yes, there are secrets that we keep from the summer folks.

The biggest secret of all, fall, is no longer such a secret. Its cover has been blown, as summer people have discovered the joys of September and October and have extended their vacations or returned to view the autumn foliage. October has now become second only to August in Maine tourism statistics.

But consider some of the secrets that are still secret:

The crack of a Maine Macintosh apple, right off the tree, as you bite into it and feel the juice running down your chin.

Later on, the tiny Maine shrimp, deep-fried or boiled no more than a minute as a special treat.

The golden needles of the hackmatacks (the trees that other people call larch or tamarack). They are among the few deciduous needled trees, and their tawny gold stands out among the dark green spruces and pines and the bare branches of the maples and chestnuts and birches.

The half-priced fancy bicycles left by the summer people and on sale for us.

The easy driving, with the summer traffic jams on the way to the coast or the lakes only a distant memory.

The high school basketball games, with posters on trees and utility poles bearing the names Kevin and Michelle and other young players like the old Burma Shave signs.

The clear, smooth sheen of frozen lakes, soon ready for skating and ice fishing.

The quiet whiteness of falling snow, fresh again and again from Thanksgiving through Easter, the silence broken only by the plows that quickly clear roads and sidewalks and driveways with an efficiency unknown in New York or Washington or Boston.

Skiing at Sugarloaf or Sunday River or on the carriage trails in Acadia National Park, groomed by a Somesville dentist in his spare time.

Sledding on the Black House hill in Ellsworth and on Hayford Park in Bangor.

The boots and lumberjacks and parkas that keep us warm against the old wind, snow and sleet of winter.

The Christmas decorations on houses and along village streets, and the Christmas processions, with firetrucks and pickups adorned with ribbons and bunting and turned into parade floats.

Yes, the cold months are fun, too, and the summer people don’t know the half of it. They don’t know mud season, either, but that’s another story.