
It’s kind of a secret spot, actually, just north of Eastport’s downtown. The people who live overhead can’t even see it.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

It’s kind of a secret spot, actually, just north of Eastport’s downtown. The people who live overhead can’t even see it.
A shaved-head man
in a very dark navy-blue suit
resembled an undertaker
as he carried a deposit bag
to the bank.
Turned out to be an attorney.

Chanced upon in a culvert in Edmunds Township. Those feathers, by the way, are both protected by federal law and valued in Native American culture.

The world of wooden sailing vessels has many devotees, and they have a trove of stories linking captains, ships, first mates, cooks, builders, designers, and much more.
Dr. T, as Garth Wells dubs him, is a passionate Penobscot Bay habitue each year from San Francisco. He has a sharp eye for the waters, too, as well as some strong opinions.
Sailing with him aboard the historic schooner Louis R. French has been a delight.
For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.

Across the Western Passage of Passamaquoddy Bay from Eastport, Maine, this small beacon flashes red at night. It’s also a warning of proximity to the Old Sow, the biggest whirlpool in the Western Hemisphere, and mostly on the Canadian side of the channel, as you can see here in one of its calmer phases.
To explore related free photo albums, visit my Thistle Finch blog.

They’re a landmark for much of Penobscot Bay. Sometimes, though, they appear more distinctly than they do as one broad outline.
For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.
Playing around with the night setting on my Galaxy cell phone has produced some surprises, beginning with the aurora borealis.
Here is a full moon that looks like a sun in the breaking storm clouds. Zoom in and you’ll see that the moon’s round. Cameras see a moon as being much smaller than our eyes do.
Any photo that shows otherwise has been manipulated. Care to discuss?
Yes, autumn is in the air.
Here it’s seen on Penobscot Bay from a cruise aboard the historic schooner Louis R. French.
For more schooner sailing experiences, take a look at my Under Sail photo album at Thistle Finch editions.

Time the view right and you may see Campobello Island, New Brunswick, turn buttery in the late afternoon sun. As an added touch, a few house windows suddenly burst into bright reflections. Here they’re simply vivid white boxes.
New Englanders sometimes joke that a town name will be found repeated in five of the six states of the region. It can be confusing. You know, people moving from one place to a new one but keeping the town name.
Maine, however, has its own twist, since much of the settlement occurred after the American Revolution, especially in the early 1800s, when “singing schools” became a popular community activity. Many of these were related to church life and the spread of four-part harmony hymn singing. So what if someone else had claimed the town name you had hoped to repeat, here was a fresh source.
Today many songs in a hymnal carry a title reflecting the words, but in earlier times the name identified the music itself – many of their lyrics can be transported from one composition to other scores within a given syllable-count system anyway.
That older tradition is continued today in a style of a four-part cappella singing called Sacred Harp, reflecting the title of the hymnal of shape notes that it used. Shape notes, should you ask, are not all of the round kind you see in most musical scores. Instead, some are little flags called fa; others are little boxes called la; or diamonds called me but spelled mi; and the round notes are called so. And there are no instruments, not even harps, much less pianos or organs, in this often rowdy tradition.
So much for that arcane sidetrack. Back to the song names.
I had assumed that the composers applied them to honor where they were written or some such. “Detroit” is one that always makes me smile.
At any rate, during a sacred-harp singing session a while back, it was mentioned that some Maine towns were actually named for the tunes, rather than the other way around.
Bangor was one. Though not in the Sacred Harp collection, the tune was written in 1734, “Oh very God of very God,” and influential. The Maine city was incorporated in 1834 from what had been known as Sunbury or Kenduskeag Plantation. The name “Bangor” is said to have been taken from a Welsh tune. Voila!
Now, for ten examples drawn from the shape-note collection. The name of each tune and town is followed by its date of composition and then the first line of the text it accompanies in the Sacred Harp collection, the date of the founding of the town, and then by something about the Maine community.
There are arguments that some of the hymns were named after Maine towns. Just consider Mars Hill, 1959, or Mount Desert, 1985.