Well, they’re not really points, unless you’ve been watching closely, hoping to see it happen. But the turning is real.

The tide turns every day, although at different times for different places. Day turns to night, and night to day. Canada geese are ready to turn for the long trip south, with an overnight stop on the golf course. Trees turn color in the crisp autumn air, and different colors for every tree. The harvest is in, seemingly overnight. New mown fields lie smooth, waiting for the snow to come and color them white as well.

Cars from Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Quebec, and Florida have all gone home. You drive smoothly through Dock Square without stopping to spare a young life rushing across the street for a better lobster roll or a souvenir T-shirt. Vote-for-me signs popped up on front lawns. Everything is turning, and the ultimate turning point for us here in Kennebunkport is the traffic.

Without a spoken word, or a new line in the town ordinance, it just happens. Suddenly, everyone knows which stop signs you have to stop for, and which ones you don’t. It’s very smooth. No arguments, no fisticuffs, and no accidents. We all just know. That’s a turning point.

Orrin Frink is a Kennebunkport resident. He can be reached at ofrink@gmail.com.

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