Older than it seems

Dover: where New Hampshire started. Leading to the second-oldest state in New England.

And then? Dover was already 200 years old when the textile mills took over the town.

Note, too, that Dover’s mills predate the more celebrated ones at Lowell, Lawrence, and Manchester on the Merrimac River.

It was hardly a fringe settlement in terms of action.

The one place I’ve never wanted to live was the suburbs

I love big cities, even have a certificate in Urban Studies, but can’t afford them, not for long.

Internet, at least, allows me some important virtual connections that way, not that it includes strolling into ethnic restaurants or great museums.

On the other hand, I’m living in a place others consider ideal for a vacation.

And for me, it’s an ideal writer’s retreat or de facto arts colony.

The ability to walk to so much of what I want in daily life is a huge consideration.

More twists on the Portsmouth-Dover rivalry

The two small cities that emerged on the New Hampshire side of the Piscataqua River ultimately found themselves rivals.

While Dover, hidden upstream, developed earlier and had much of early Maine on its side, Portsmouth took on its own character.

Portsmouth had a harbor, for one thing, and as waters upstream became polluted with sawdust from the mills, along with the clearing of forests miles inland from the banks, Dover’s wharves and landings faded in importance. Its goods were relegated to small local vessels called gundalows, which could maneuver the shallow waters, and then repacked into larger ocean-going vessels rather than continuing directly.

All of that then had Portsmouth emerging as the focus for trade, connecting it to towns up and down the Eastern Seaboard and beyond rather than anything much inland.

The center of Dover, meanwhile, kept creeping upstream from its waterfront origins at Hilton Point. Its outlook turned increasingly up-country, powered by the waterfalls along the Cochecho River and the mills, along with farming and timbering.

It was a common pattern in New England, so I’m told. The merchant class of the harbor settlements kept informed on activities along the coastline and destinations overseas but knew little to nothing of what was happening just five miles inland. The inland points, for their part, had little interest in distant locales.

By the time of the American Revolution, Portsmouth boasted of some impressive Georgian houses owned by wealthy seagoing merchants, some of them signers of the Declaration of Independence. (The squalid, roughnecked, red-light neighborhoods that went with all that seagoing were left more unspoken.) Dover was far more modest, about 50 years away from emerging as a major textile manufacturing center, with the red-brick mills.

George Washington visited Portsmouth but not Dover. You get the picture.

The character of the two communities continued to diverge after that, and they still do. Today, Portsmouth is driven in large part by tourism, both as a destination and as a stopping off point for almost all of the motor traffic in and out of Maine. In contrast, Dover sits quietly to the north, though the new bridge at Dover Point makes the place more accessible.

~*~

The other two towns of New Hampshire’s first century also had different personalities.

While Hampton sat on the Atlantic coastline, it lacked a harbor. Nor was it inland enough to have the waterfalls to power manufacturing. Its base remained agriculture.

Exeter, further inland, did have the falls but somehow also took on a more cultured tone. It’s a story I anticipate hearing of more.

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I was often puzzled that so few folks in Portsmouth knew anything about Dover, just a dozen or so miles away. Not so for Dover residents when it came to Portsmouth, the smaller of the two.

That just may be changing, however, with the downtown renaissance in Dover and the increasing commercialization and crowding of Portsmouth from the funky, artsy edge we so enjoyed just 30 years ago.

The one thing that hasn’t changed from the late-Colonial era is that Portsmouth remains more monied. Some of that, at last, just may be migrating northward, toward family-friendly Dover.

Outside of normal moral constraints

With a woman (maybe twenty, long brown hair, a red sweater) again in the sun, playful, morning, but she must go off perhaps to be executed that same day, shot dead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew it would cast a curse over us. We wouldn’t be able to do anything without thinking of that. I just wanted us to be US.”

So later she’s acquitted or pardoned.

 

Apartment complex in the woods, kissing with a married friend and her sister-in-law, both staying at my place.

Later, I return home, the door’s wide open (how obviously symbolic these can be!), and everything’s gone, especially my computer.

Well, there were all of those years between the divorce and a second marriage.

Time in the creation of poetry and much else

Robert Bly once said that to write a line of poetry requires two hours. Not so much for the actual writing.  Not even for the inspiration. Though certainly for the revision.  As well as compression and redistillation. And more revision.

His estimate, to me, seems quite optimistic.

I’m thinking it can be applied to many more examples of where human creative action is involved, too.

Go ahead, name one where you wish you had more time for the project.

As one neighbor says, ‘It’s my least favorite job’

His sympathy was much appreciated while I worked with one around the garden.

So here’s why I hate using a weed whacker.

  1. My shoes and legs or pants get splattered in green juice.
  2. As do my hair, eyes, and lips. (I don’t like slurpies.)
  3. Stems and blades of tall grasses and weeds often twist into a knot around the connection of the driveshaft to trimmer spool. Their tangling soon chokes the high-speed revolutions. Even with a razor blade, they’re hard to extract. I can spend more time clearing this than actually cutting the tall grasses and weeds.
  4. The two plastic trimmer cords – the part that actually cuts the greens – are hard to extend to the desired length or to replace when the spool’s empty. The procedures feel counterintuitive. And they quickly fray in actual usage.
  5. The “trimming” isn’t nearly as precise in its surgery as my wife presumes. It’s more like using a chainsaw than a scalpel.
  6. That means there’s collateral damage. Domestic flowers and vegetable plants are at risk, especially if I bump into something I can’t see behind me. Oops! Sorry.
  7. I have an electric battery-driven version, a huge advance over the gasoline alternative. Just the thought of having to deal with the fuel mixture, rip-cord starter, or other maintenance is enough to put on my to-hate list.
  8. The battery in mine is difficult to remove for recharging. It’s just too tight to get out without an extra set of hands. Help!
  9. It’s top-heavy, meaning that when I’m trying to clear those tangles in No. 3 or am trying to store it in the shed, it wants to roll over inconveniently or just fall over.
  10. They’re noisy, even the electric-battery versions like ours.

Would herbicides, which we don’t use, do the job better? (Satan, get thee behind me.)

Now for Machias

The governmental seat for sprawling Washington County is the town of Machias, or “bad little falls” in the river where it meets an arm of the Atlantic. Well, others have suggested the Passamaquoddy term would be more accurately rendered as “nasty” or something I suspect is much worse. From what I’ve seen, going over the cataract at the tidal line in a canoe or any other kind of boat would have been fatal. Not that I want to tempt anyone to prove me wrong, like those who have actually gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

That said, let’s look at some more facts about the town and its neighboring East Machias, Machiasport, and related neighborhoods.

Centre Street Congregational Church, erected in 1836.

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  1. It’s pronounced “maaah-chEYE-us,” the central syllable running along the lines of a hardened SHY.
  2. Washington Academy in East Machias is not only among the oldest boarding schools in the country, but thanks to publicly-funded tuition students from neighboring towns, it’s also the largest high school in the county. It does attract an elite from abroad. Go Raiders.
  3. The state university branch campus is often ridiculed but definitely working toward an upgrade.
  4. An initial English attempt at settlement in 1633 was rebuffed by a French attack, creating a gap of more than 120 years.
  5. Machias is the birthplace of the U.S. Navy, and its inaugural victory was won, in part, with pitchforks. I’m not kidding. Look it up. I’ll even suggest it as a plot for a comic opera. Notably, Passamaquoddy Natives were instrumental on the colonists’ side.
  6. It briefly flourished as a lumber exporting center in the late 1800s.
  7. ATV riders will find a great entry to the Downeast Sunrise Trail here. The path follows an old railroad line.
  8. The flea market atop the causeway on U.S. 1 can be delightful, especially Earle’s fresh seafood truck toward weekends. I do have to wonder how the reconstruction of that crossing will affect tradition.
  9. Its emergency room and hospital are often favored over those in Calais. I won’t get into the details.
  10. We do love the general store and natural foods emporium. As for the tiny movie theater? Still on our to-do list. Best wishes.

 

Back from sea

Or should I say “bay”? My weekend at the Common Ground Fair was followed by the better part of the week cruising Penobscot Bay in a historic schooner. My first time overnight in a ship, at that.

I’m just beginning to digest the experience, but it was my second digital detox within a month – a healthy opportunity, to my mind. I’m sure you’ll be reading a full report sometime in the future here.

At least my body’s home now.