I’m glad to see they’re getting their exercise.
The weather’s no excuse, either.
Tag: Maine
Is there a dry cleaner in the county?
Geographically, Sunrise County is one of the largest in New England – the county line is an hour-and-a-half drive away from where I live, unless you’re going to Canada – but there are a lot of things we don’t have.
There are only three traffic lights, for instance – all in Calais en route to the busy international border crossing.
So I was wondering, just in case, where the closest dry cleaner is. We have two laundromats, but say, what if I wanted to send my dress shirts out to be washed and pressed, as I did back when working in an office?
The answer, it turns out, is forget it.
This really is a do-it-yourself kind of place.
If you’re planning on visiting, be prepared.
Seaside village
The Roald arrives
It’s a very blustery day. But welcome to the East Coast of the USA. The expedition cruise ship did arrive, on schedule, as promised.
Me, on the rocks
Could be any number of New England seacoast towns
Maine’s Common Ground Fair has a cult following – and we’re going
It’s like a state fair in the hippie, organic, granola-mind reality. There’s no midway with carnival rides, for sure, but for truly inquiring-minds folk, it’s an autumn equinox slash harvest-time celebration.
Yes, let’s declare a true Thanksgiving, minus turkeys.
Shortened in its post-Covid resurrection, this year’s gathering in Unity, Maine, is the premiere event of the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association (MOFGA), and runs Sept. 23 through 25.
Now that we’re living in Maine, we can identify as members and look forward to attending, even though in New Hampshire we were surrounded by devotees. Yes, it’s that boffo.
As an aside, I can attest to enjoying my best-ever souvlaki ever, from a wood stove, no less, at an earlier fair. Gee, and I hate standing in line. It was worth it.
This is definitely a hippie-vision positive manifestation of the radical mindset of nirvana. And there’s no honky-tonk.
This year’s poster will no doubt be displayed on a wall of our new abode.
See you there?
Our fisherman gets an upgrade
I thought the guy was kidding when he pulled up in town and confided that he was going to repaint Eastport’s iconic waterfront fisherman statue, changing the blue coat to a yellow slicker. I was sworn to secrecy at the time, but the next day, there he was, in full light, doing the deed.
The somewhat surreal, but shall we say fiberglass de facto emblem of the city, really got a fashion update. Or upgrade, in my opinion. Seems I’m not alone. Yes, that yellow slicker fits much better.
My kudos to Patrick Keough of Seward, Nebraska, for something that even included an imaginative eyepatch.
Some folks, however, are seeing a similarity with the Gorton’s guy down in Gloucester on Cape Ann, Massachusetts.
I think they have that backwards.
Has our drinking water quality really improved?
Eastport’s tap water last summer took on a greenish color and a definite off-taste. It got to the point that we started running everything we’d be drinking or using for cooking through an activated charcoal filter.
The explanation was that the supply came from a large but shallow lake a dozen miles away and that every summer the algae bloomed. The private company that provides water to the city then had to heighten its use of chemicals for treatment, resulting in the offensive character.
Water to the Sipayik reservation also came from the same source but was delivered via a different pipeline and was, by reports, much more troubling.
In its attempts to redress the issue, the company announced it would be using an alternative to treat the water, and I have to say we haven’t noticed the off-taste or discoloration this year. We haven’t yet seen a chemical analysis yet, however, or heard about the current situation on the reservation.
Still, public water quality is something most Americans take for granted.
Funny how often we overlook a problem, even when it has, as I hope, been clearing up.
When the fog rolls in
“Another crappy day in Paradise,” as one wit has been heard to say on a gray, chilly, wet morning here.
