Over the past few weeks, the region’s breweries have been leaking out their summer ales to your neighborhood liquor stores. If you’re like most Mainers who enjoy a good quaff, you look forward to the seasons changing as much for these arrivals as for the leaves falling (read: tourists leaving), the first snow fall (read: sledding), and in this case, the lengthening of the days (read: everyone will be wearing less clothes).

Summer ales are a different breed than those representing the other two seasons. Autumn and winter ales concentrate on keeping you warm. They’re generally made with more aromatic hops to produce spicy, piney, or other season-appropriate aromas, toasted malts to produce coffee or chocolate flavors, and have higher alcohol contents and higher gravities.

EXCURSUS: Gravity is the easiest way to measure the alcohol content — and weight — of a beer. Before the beer ferments, it is mostly a thick mixture of fermentable sugars, non-fermentable sugars (derived from soaking the grain), and water — this is called wort. As the yeast ferments, the sugars are eaten and alcohol is produced, resulting in a liquid that is much thinner than the original — this is called beer. It’s those non-fermentable sugars, the ones that couldn’t be broken down by the yeast, that give the final beer its weight. You measure that difference by comparing the original gravity to the final gravity. Among many other things, brewers will adjust their brewing techniques to change the ratios of fermentable and non-fermentable sugars to determine the final weight of the beer.

Obviously, when drinking beers in the summer, quenchability is a bigger factor than in the colder months. Most brewers recognize this, so the emphasis is taken off heavy and bone-warming and put on light and crisp, with lower alcohol contents; something you can more easily throw down your throat. However, there is a conflict of interests with the summer brews: You want to drink them ice cold, but many of the subtle flavors come through only when they’ve warmed up a bit. So chug the first four ounces, then sip the rest. You’ll have a more well rounded experience.

The list I present here is still not complete, as a few summer ales have not hit the market yet. Noticeably absent is the Allagash Summer Ale — and that’s a shame, because it’s one of the most interesting ales of the season — as well as the Carrabassett Summer Ale. Perhaps an addendum in another issue will be in order.

Geary’s Summer Ale: The Geary’s Web site provides some information which makes tasting this beer a little easier. The Original Gravity comes in pretty high for a summer beer (1060), which gives it a slightly heavier body than most, and a six percent ABV. However, for the weightier mouth feel, it’s surprisingly crisp. Green apples and hops come though nicely, and its fruitiness reminds me of a malty, dry champagne. It likens itself to a German Kölsch, a crisp, German style not frequently seen outside of Europe, except in craft breweries in America.

Shipyard Summer Ale: This beer is billed as a " traditional American wheat beer. " Its maltiness is its primary characteristic, with a body that’s just slightly lighter than the Geary’s. The particular strain of yeast used at Shipyard, an English strain called Ringwood, gives it a particularly rich, buttery flavor, noticeable after the bottle has warmed up a few degrees. There isn’t much in the way of hoppiness, but a lemony sourness accompanies the sweetness of the malt, resulting in a crisp, full finish.

Gritty’s Vacationland: The folks at Gritty’s call this an " extra special golden ale, " which, traditionally speaking, seems to be a contradiction in terms. That term, " extra special, " is usually reserved for English bitters, and means they are more aggressively hopped, darker colored, and maltier than the regular bitters. Vacationland is golden, with a decent body, dry, and what most would term drinkable. This usually means there’s not a whole lot distinctive about it. It is, however, a pretty good beer to serve ice-cold and keep that way, and you can drink a whole bunch at once. So it’s got that going for it, which is nice.

Casco Bay Summer Ale: I really dig this ale. Its primary characteristic, rather than just relying on being crisp and light, is a toasty, bready flavor that trails right through the finish — something more often seen in the colder-weather ales. Furthering that point, it contains a much more pronounced hop presence than the others, but keeps the body light. It’s the kind of beer for drinking in the cooler evenings on the coast, where jeans are necessary, a T-shirt is fine, and a hoodie is available, just in case.

Stone Coast Sunday River Sunsplash Golden Ale: You’ve heard the ads: " The first Maine microbrew in a can! " Initially, I had a problem with this, as I thought the whole microbrew thing involved getting away from cans. But then I tasted it, and it’s really not that bad. It’s not that great, as it is slightly tinny (it most likely tastes better off the tap), and has that maize flavor that makes those other canned college beers so delicious. It’s really thin bodied, and decently crisp, and it goes down easy . . . perfect for chilling down a bunch of six packs and taking to the beach, when you need something better than Coors, but just as easily transportable. So it has its place.

Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com.