
Just walkin’ along and there they were.

You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Just walkin’ along and there they were.


Lowbush, rather than high. Sunrise County is the world capital. This tray is about to be frozen for later use.

Eastport, as you may have gleaned from this blog, can be overrun with deer. They do make gardening a challenge.
The encounters become more lively when mention of an albino deer arises. We’re discovering that Moose Island, where we live, has had a series of white deer, including fawns with the gene.
For the record, they’re probably not albino but leucistic, and as I saw in this case, mostly pink. Defining piebald has its own set of technicalities.
This encounter was on a Sunday morning while I was heading out of town on my way to Quaker Meeting for worship. I passed what I thought was lawn decoration and then realized it wasn’t. When I whipped back, this was the best I could capture before lowering the car’s window, and by then they had slipped behind the house. Wily critters they can be.
The deer in question, by the way, is on the right in the photo.

The naked eye saw only white sometimes tinged with pink or blue. The cell phone camera using a 4-second exposure saw this and much more. Was anyone really expecting northern lights?

this is the great north of my life
including mosquitos
I wouldn’t want to go on a typical
ship cruise
or Navy vessel
the sea’s so blue with a sky to match
in the zodiac, I’m an air sign

the North Atlantic at night
a distant lighthouse here and there
the Milky Way
dawn where I live
Maybe if I had a camera at the time, the trip would have wound up as photos rather than a poem. The weeklong camping trip was a turning point in my life, though, and the poem that emerged from the experience was initially accepted by a prestigious Northwest literary press but then declined – they’d lost a grant, they said.
Had it appeared at the time, my path as a poet would have advanced, definitely more securely than it did. But the effort definitely solidified my growth in the craft.
Poem? It’s my attempt at what William Carlos Williams advocated as a longpoem, where the challenge is “to find an image large enough to embody the whole knowable world about me.” About, in this case, having meanings as both the immediate world around the poet and his own autobiographical revelations. In his case, the image was the Paterson, New Jersey, the river city where he practiced medicine and lived.
For me, it became about the Olympic Peninsula of the Pacific Northwest, bugged, perhaps, by Basho’s wanderings in ancient Japan.

Having originally appeared in Thistle Finch editions, this collection is now available on your choice of ebook platforms at Smashwords.com and its affiliated digital retailers. Those outlets include the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, and Sony’s Kobo. You may also request the ebook from your local public library.
Do take a look.

Even a mighty river has humble beginnings.
We’ve already met a ferry. Most of Isle au Haut has national park status as part of Acadia. The boat takes foot-travel passengers, too.



A scene along the way.

Cony Park, Eastport, Maine