
Do people really sit here, watching the passing view in warm weather? Did they ever?
Somehow, it’s still commanding, all these years later.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Do people really sit here, watching the passing view in warm weather? Did they ever?
Somehow, it’s still commanding, all these years later.

This one’s from to our west, in this case Penobscot Bay during my cruise last summer on the schooner the Louis R. French. You’ll be seeing more images from that week as this year progresses. And, yes, I’m already signed up for another week of cruising.

As glimpsed at the mostly takeout Vietnamese restaurant in Bangor, Maine, the token offerings to Buddha and his buddies are a reassuring nod in many Asian food retailers.
Jesus and all the saints, on the other hand, are typically left in fasting mode, East or West.
As Bar Harbor, at the gateway to Acadia National Park, tries to limit the number of cruise ships coming to town, tiny Eastport has been reaping benefits.
For the past two autumns, as some of the ships have ventured our way, we’ve welcomed their arrival at our downtown Breakwater pier. As I’ve previously posted, they’ve extended our brief retailing season and brought delighted walkers to our byways, shops, eateries, and galleries.
Supporters point out that these guests and supporting staff don’t add traffic congestion to our narrow roadways, and their arrivals can be spaced to avoid times of busy events. The town is also limiting arrivals to one ship per day, unlike Bar Harbor or Portland.
It’s still early in the planning for the upcoming travel season, and things can change rapidly, but here’s what’s already slated.
At his point, we’re expecting ten ships to come calling, 23 arrivals in all and up to 55,000 day-visitors. A few are spread out over the summer, too.
Three of them are too long to dock at the pier. Instead, they’ll anchor in the channel and relay passengers and crew to and from the dock.

The Zuiderdam, seen here in Rockland Harbor last year, will be making two visits. You can see one of its tenders in the water, conveying passengers to the town and back.

It’s not quite like the Victorian mansion with the witch-hat tower that I envisioned in my novel What’s Left. This one sits along U.S. 1 in Milbridge, Maine, rather than near the university campus in the fictional town of Daffodil, Indiana.
Dig back in the archives on this blog and you’ll find dozens of other examples, usually in other colors, unlike Big Pink in the book.
I didn’t ask if a multigenerational Greek-American family lives here.

This happens when the air temperature approaches zero Fahrenheit, well below that of the Atlantic.

A first attempt to photograph the northern lights using my cell phone. It does look like a sunrise except in the north. Next up is time-length exposures using a tripod and remote shutter. That’s when much fantastic color that isn’t seen at the time by the naked eye is detected.
I’ve even bookmarked the two-day forecast to keep me posted.
They’ll even shuck their treasures from the shells before returning to dock, no matter how cold.

Carved in stone in Trout Brook cemetery, Weston, Maine, this portion of the deceased’s name makes its own statement. Can we adapt this as a motto for the New Year, with a sense of zest?
I do suspect that gravestones can be a great source of first or last names when it comes to writing fiction, not that I did that in crafting my existing novels.

It’s made a huge difference, cutting our pricy fuel oil usage roughly in half.