One of the sensations in watching a full solar eclipse comes as the light seems to become more focused before going into twilight. I skip the discussion of optics and physics. Here’s how it looked in the trees around us in the April 2024 event here in Maine. Something similar happened with shadows.
Tag: Maine
A moment in the life
Late afternoon at the former West Quoddy Coast Guard lifesaving station. The boathouse, lower right, sits at the edge of Lubec Channel, with Campolbello Island, New Brunswick running above it. A bridge, barely visible here, connects Canada to the United States, with the town of Lubec continuing along the water. You may even detect the “sparkplug” lighthouse sitting in the water. The city of Eastport, where we live, can be seen beyond the bridge.
We’re still looking forward to a transformed kitchen and a lot more
Under other conditions, this is where we would have started our renovations.
The kitchen, in our firmament, is the heart of a home. The one in our historic house needed some serious attention. Let me amend that, needs extensive remodeling.
The electric Montgomery Ward stovetop we inherited has a dead burner. If you’re too young to know about Monkey Wards, it was a major Chicago-based retail chain and mail-order empire that went bankrupt and out of business before Sears Roebuck. If I need to explain Sears and its Kenmore brand appliances, you really do need a history lesson. I’ll let you give me one in current pop culture in exchange. Back to the kitchen, for now. There’s no oven, other than the small tabletop convection unit we brought up with us. It’s definitely not big enough for a Thanksgiving turkey or a boneless beef prime rib, as was my birthday tradition in Dover, or even full trays of cookies for Christmas. A dishwasher is a necessity in today’s ideal world, especially when you consider my dishwashing skills, frankly, as falling short. The lack of decent electrical lighting over the sink doesn’t help. As for that lighting or additional electrical outlets? The list quickly grows. We weren’t expecting our redo to be as extensive as the one we undertook in Dover; do note, we also gleaned valuable insights from that. Or at least one of us had, the one whose opinion counts most.
Next to the kitchen was the mudroom, uninsulated and without electricity. We needed someplace to put a big freezer to augment the kitchen, garden, and marked-down grocery jackpots. The existing roof there was funky at best and leaking, along with exterior rot. New windows could point to space for new shelving, too. OK, we’ve addressed half of the mudroom checklist, for now.
The front door of the house, as previously noted, needs replacing, along with the downstairs windows and most of their sills. Anything to cut the heating bill, right?
At this point, we’ve decided to defer work on the downstairs bathroom aka the water closet.
Ditto for the emerging dining room slash crafts room with a butler’s pantry. The room which was my headquarters in the universe for five years.
And then, as for gutters? Or window dressings? Or new furnishings?
The bottom line in all of this has shifted but remains exciting, all the same.
Yet, when you’re married to one of the world’s great cooks, the state of the kitchen is a major consideration.
She and her elder daughter have some great ideas and dreams.
I, in turn, reap the benefits as these happen.
Rowing away for a while
This was our smaller dinghy, agile enough to be managed by one person.
For more schooner cruise experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.
Welcome to Middle End, maybe the only one on earth
When I moved to Eastport nearly five years ago, old-timers began telling me of the intense antagonism between the North End, or Dog Islanders, and the South End, aka Assault and Battery (for Battery Street) or Sodom and Gomorrah. Their antagonism toward Lubec just to the south was the only thing strong enough to unite them.
Yes, when it came to the antagonism toward Lubec, the town to the south, they unified in their venom, which was something like the reaction of Dog River residents toward Wolverton in the Canadian comedy series Corner Gas.
Only four months ago, at a historical society forum, did I first hear that the residential section between them – where I live – was known as Middle End, a designation that many of those who grew up here had never heard yet was common in usage by others.
It’s the neighborhood containing the majority of the homes in town, much of it proposed for National Historic Registry recognition as the Eastport Central Neighborhood district. Well, it does have its merits.
Our house would be the oldest within its boundaries, built by the man who originally held title to half of Middle End. His brother-in-law, Caleb Boynton, held the other half. Shackford’s sons and sons-in-law and presumably their wives were active in developing their share, what they surveyed with numbered plots as Majorville.
A middle, by definition, is between ends rather than being an end or even having one, I suppose. For me, that leads to a quaint contradiction. Is there even another Middle End on the planet? Google maps proffer a nada.
The Eastport neighborhood is largely to the west of downtown, with a little wrapping around to the south and north, so it wouldn’t exactly form a West End. And to the east of downtown? It’s all water and very quickly beyond that, Canada.
Well, if they had only called these “sides,” but for whatever reason, they didn’t see things that way.
The End.
Ghosts in the neighborhood
I’ve previously posted on the phenomenon of ghosts residing in homes in New England, especially, somehow, Maine.
In that vein, I’m surprised we haven’t sensed anything in the household, especially considering its age. Maybe Anna Baskerville’s good vibes should get some credit here.
But I have asked about a few of our neighbors, and they quickly told of theirs. I am surprised by the details, including a smell or two. Also, so far, they seem to be limited to one per house and do prefer to don dark clothing.
At least they seem to be benign, only sad.
Note to self: Keep asking around. It is a great conversation starter.
~*~
Here are some related facts gleaned from Harper’s Index in recent years:
- Minimum percentage of Americans who say they’ve had a paranormal experience: 67.
- Who say this experience involved “smelling an unexplained odor”: 30.
- Who say they have the ability to psychically sense others’ emotions or auras: 24.
- Percentage of U.S. homeowners who believe their homes are haunted: 49.
- Of Gen Z homeowners who believe this: 65.
- Number of states in which sellers must respond truthfully if asked whether a murder has occurred in a home: 9.
- If asked whether a home is haunted: 1.
Blue Hill natural palette
This tonal range of color defined the trees was viewed through a restaurant window as we lunched in the Penobscot Bay town of Blue Hill. It’s subtle but to my eyes also visually exciting.
The Maine woods, as you’ll discover, often stray from the colors you’d assume.
A Frenchman steering the French
Or driving, as he would say. For Philippe, now living in Montana, many memories of growing up in coastal Normandy came into play when he got his turn at the helm of the schooner Louis R. French.
His informed questions were well worth considering.
For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.
Captain John’s incredible view
As I investigated the history of the rundown house we had bought, I was puzzled by a description that placed it at the corner of Shackford and Water streets, the other end of our block. Only later did I see that as the reality until Captain John Shackford senior sold off two lots a year before his death and the subsequent appearance of Third Street, perhaps the third east/west street in his tract but remaining the only numeral street in the entire city.
I keep trying to imagine his sweeping panoramic view from that time, with the waterfront below and its wharves still in his possession, and then out over the bay and the fields around him. None of the neighboring houses existed through most of that. The lot across Water Street, down to the tides, was steep and the upper part remained attached to our property until the late 1970s or so. My, how we’d love to still have that unobstructed view of Passamaquoddy Bay, the part known as Friar Roads!
As I consider the loss, let me mention it’s what’s too often hailed as the price of progress.
At least we have some great neighbors.
Panorama from the north end of our street
I really do love the deep blue of the North Atlantic on a morning like this.
Jnana's Red Barn 