Tag: Downeast

Tagging a tree

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Our custom is to bring the tree indoors on Christmas Eve and decorate it then. Sometimes we’ve even waited till that very morning to head out to the tree farm to harvest the one we had tagged earlier. But that was back in New Hampshire.

Here in Real Downeast Maine, we instead initially gleaned our Yule tree in the neighboring forests, sometimes even along country roads under utility lines, first in tabletop sizes and then full-size. The vegan member of our circle, however, complained that they weren’t full enough. She wanted something more classically ideal. Definitely nothing Charlie Brown.

Well, the natural – organic – ones do tend to grow mostly on one side, nestled in with others, unless you fell a taller evergreen and lop off the top five or six feet. Not that such an argument went anywhere. Even so, the rest of us were perfectly delighted with what we put up and strung lights on and all the rest.

Against that background, we finally relented and were then astonished at one nearby family tree farm that goes along for perhaps a half-mile in clearings along an unpaved lane into the bigger forest. There are probably enough trees for every child, woman, and man in the county, and the prices are ridiculously low in comparison to what you just paid, wherever.

The kids in the family will even come around with electric chainsaws to cut it down for you. What more could you ask? Well, maybe that netting before we jam it into the hatch of our car?

What you see here is us claiming one to be ours, that is “tagging” it with ribbon and an identifying label, ahead of time. We trust that nobody else will ignore those markers. (It’s happened to us only once, back in more populous Dover. We still found a fine replacement. Maybe better?)

My, those needles y do smell good, outdoors and in.

Here’s wishing you and yours and happy and memorable togetherness.

Gilkey Harbor memory

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The member ships of the Maine Windjammer Association are independently owned and operated, and apart from setting firm departure and return dates, each of them ventures at the will of its skipper and the elements each day.

Watching the others in the course of a cruise is almost a game, and sometimes two or three wind up spending the night in the same cove, as happened here on Islesboro. We had the Heritage, above on one side, and the Angelique on the other, and the atmosphere was festive.

For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.

So many threads have led to here

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

This pause in our renovations seems like an ideal time to reflect on the ways this project builds on much earlier dreams and becomes, perhaps by default, their culmination.

My junior high art teacher instilled in me a love of 20th century contemporary architecture as well as Japanese and Scandinavian art and culture. That dovetailed into Shaker traditions that had once existed just down the street from us and a county or two south as well. Plainness, exemplified by Quaker, Mennonite, and Brethren history is in my blood and bones, as I’ve learned digging into genealogy.

Add to that an appreciation for William Morris’ arts and crafts movement, which infused the bungalow I eventually owned in the Rust Belt, and my exposure to historic New England styles, including Queen Ann.

And then a sense of neighborhood, too.

Had you asked me at the outset where I wanted to live, I would have responded central city, perhaps in a high rise, or out in the wilderness, perhaps beside a mountain lake or stream. What was clear that suburban was nowhere in my preference.

So here I am in a historic sea captain’s home a block from the Atlantic yet at the edge of a funky downtown and arts scene and – utterly amazing, to me – within minutes of forest, lakes, and streams.

When I sit in our second-floor rooms, the heart of our renovation project, I have moments of feeling the best of both worlds. In following the new roofline for our ceilings, we’ve avoided creating boxes as the rooms. One criticism of so much architecture objects to “boxes with holes cut in them.” Rather than boxiness, sometimes I’m reminded of the contours within a ship’s hull or a sail overhead.

This time of year, I’m reminded, too, of the flurry of work just before the previous two Christmas celebrations. It got chaotic, up to six tradesmen at one time. We were tripping over ourselves as the rest of the family started showing up.

Throughout it all, we had the ongoing Viking Lumber deliveries, mostly with Tim driving. And our wonder at having the right contractor after all of the delays.

So here we are with the continuing surprise of the historical significance of the house, not just that it was 80 years older than it had been claimed, but that it had been so central to what has evolved here.

As our mason once asked, “How much is enough?”

For now, let’s leave it at that.