Although it’s June, I’m as white as a birch tree. There hasn’t been enough sun along this coastline of Down East Maine to bring any color to my cheeks, except for the splotches of red from black fly bites.

Most days have been shrouded in fog so thick the cruise ships have bellowed out their calls across the bay to herald their arrival – or departure – without being seen by us landhuggers. Mystery lobster boats meander toward their trap buoys, their loud engines the only clue to their location in the choppy sound.

The fog hides but can’t muffle the cries of osprey or gulls overhead, and motorists drive with their lights on, even at high noon.

But on the occasional day lately, surprise sunshine has illuminated every field and forest, every stretch of ledge or reach of sea. And the scene spotlighted by the brilliance makes me sing aloud a hearty song from the musical “Carousel.”

Indeed, “June Is Busting Out All Over.” Flowering crabapple trees are laden with hot-pink blossoms. Quince bushes are bright red, pink, or orange. Lilacs are turning purple before my eyes, and the Pot-of-Gold draping over low rock walls gleams like true nuggets. Forget-me-nots and Johnny-jump-ups blanket the ground, and where the golf course hasn’t been mowed, dainty May flowers resemble a dusting of snow on the grass.

The peony bushes seem to grow an inch a day, and even the wild daisies and ferns stand tall like sentries along the roadsides. The red maples are crimson; the pear trees and plums are as white as dogwood; and the new spring green of oaks, aspen, ash and beech contrasts the darks of the towering evergreens.

June is busting out all over Maine, despite cool nights and foggy days, despite snow in May and winds that whip the giant flag at the entrance to town, despite late frosts that stunted the arrival of spring.

June is finally here, bringing with her the lushness of summer’s promise. The rotund spirea is dressed in buds that soon will become the color and texture of white lace. The irises are soon to unfold their velvety blooms, and the lilies continue their climb toward the sunlight.

Out back where moss coats the path, purple and yellow finches cling to the feeders, while doves peck at the corn strewn across the yard. The familiar chipmunk has returned, scampering among the red squirrels and a stray gray one as large as the cat.

The fog lifted last weekend to unveil the glory of June in Maine, her colors brighter than painted kayaks.

With a few more sunny days, there will be no end to this rainbow: emerald, forest, turquoise, blue, lavender, purple, pink, rose, red, orange, peach, yellow, and back again, to the dazzling Pot-of-Gold.