Tag: Maine
Propositioning a mermaid
Only in Eastport … as seen from the wine bar.
Urban deer, oh dear
Eastport – centered on Moose Island – is one of many small cities being overrun by deer. You may have met some of the culprits here at the Red Barn.
Here are some random bits as a result.
- In the Wampanoag language, they’re known as “the ones with wet noses,” for the way they investigate the world around them.
- Why do fawns have white spots? I suspect it could be a good opportunity for a storyteller to develop. Along with the question of why fawns eventually lose them.
- They like apples. Man, do they. Some will dance on their hind legs in reaching for the branch overhead.
- They can destroy a garden overnight.
- That said, they’ll eat just about anything. One even swallowed a spigot on our bird feeder.
- Speaking of which, a bit of cayenne pepper in the feeder seems to repel them. As the adage goes, better late than never, regarding some lessons.
- They’ll eat out of your hand if you’re patient. Not that I advise that.
- Bucks get bumped out of the circle as they come of age.
- The most we’ve counted in our small yard at one time was ten.
- We’ve had an albino in the north end of town. I first thought it was a goat in the night.
One commute I can’t complain about
Some Sunday mornings, my drive to and from the Quaker meetinghouse a half-hour from my home is a meditation in its own right.
Even in fog or snow, it can be refreshing.
Much of the road is through forest, plus stretches along Passamaquoddy and Cobscook bays and their tributaries. The route also passes through a tribal reservation and a national wildlife preserve, which does sound a bit exotic though I take it as routine.
Eagle sightings are common, and I have had to stop for deer or turkeys in the middle of U.S. 1. Once I even spotted a moose far ahead on the pavement.
A radio program of classical choral music on a CBC station that comes in quite clearly is often also an element, depending on my mood.
Do you remember the freedom you felt when you first learned to drive? Some mornings, especially when there’s no other traffic, that elation returns.
While I’m tempted to proclaim “What could be more glorious than this!” I will also note many of the scattered homes I pass resemble junkyards – poverty in Washington County is a constant – so there’s a reminder of that reality, too. I suspect there are more dead cars and trucks here than people.
As an added touch, there are no traffic lights, either.
The buck stops here
Hikers atop a seaside bluff
If you see them, they’ll give you a sense of proportion for the experience of hiking the coastal trail at Quoddy Head State Park in Lubec.
Maybe this will help you locate them. There were five in the party, including a child, when we caught up with them.
Hobart Stream at Cobscook Bay
The tide’s out.
All these guys I know are hitting 75 around me. And I’m biting my tongue.
Eastport and the neighboring towns are filled with fascinating characters, and it’s been delightful getting to meet so many of them in my new community.
One thing I keep hearing the men say, though, is that they’re coming up on their 75th birthday and, well, they’re beginning to feel realities of getting older. No matter how physically fit they seem.
Gee, do I really think they look a little older than me? Or do I really look young for my age?
Even though I’ve been viewing this as my Diamond Anniversary?
Let me utter a big sigh.
Baby spiders
I’m feelin’ some schooner excitement
Somewhere in my youth I fell under the spell of windjammers – vessels under full sail in the wild ocean. Those were as far away from my native Ohio as were the white-capped mountains that also caught my fancy.
Over the years, though, even as I came to know first the Pacific Northwest and later, coastal New England, I never considered actually going on an overnight windjammer cruise. Dismissed it as too expensive on our limited income. For contrast, I should note that I’ve never had any interest in an ocean-liner cruise. Zip.
But in late May, a dear friend from Vermont stopped by for a few days on his way to his annual windjammer trip on Penobscot Bay and that, well, reignited those dreams.
My wife looked at our budget and encouraged me to join him on his early autumn return. For the record, she’s declining to go too, remembering a bad seasick whale watch excursion when we were first together. No way would she venture forth for so many hours or days.
Upshot is at the end of next month buddy and I will spend the better part of a week under sail on a historic schooner exploring some famed Maine waters, especially the lighthouses along the way.
I have to admit, a windjammer should be my kind of excitement. And because my buddy grew up sailing, I’ll certainly be privy to a deep source of inside information. At least maybe I’ll have more of the terms right when I report on our adventure.
In addition, many of the classic sailing ships were built only a block or two from our house, back in the heyday of masts and canvas sails. The remaining keel of one schooner is exposed at low tide only a block or two from my house.
I’ve started counting the days till we set sail.
