
This time of year, the fresh green is as welcome as the eventual flowers.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

This time of year, the fresh green is as welcome as the eventual flowers.

Those were lunch bags.

Once quintessential and now mostly obsolete, collected along the shoreline. What one observer has dubbed an outdoor closet on a neighbor’s deck.

It’s something that will get an improved setting once we tackle the kitchen renovations.

This marker in Castine, Maine, reflects an often overlooked side of the American Revolution. Some residents who had opposed the revolt were forced to leave the new country.
Many of these Loyalists packed up their houses, walls and all, and rebuilt them in settlements in New Brunswick, Canada, near where I now live. Their descendants are active on both sides of the border, as I’m learning.


The second-Saturdays afternoon event at a local tavern is already full of fine memories, including a visiting famed Irish fiddler shown here. Its core is MICE, the Moose Island Contradance ensemble. That space was soon filled with other players.
Winter snow makes the crest of Katahdin, Maine’s tallest mountain, visible from 90 miles away in Wesley, Maine. A clear sky helps, of course.
The view is from State Route 192 just off the heavily traveled S.R. 9.

Maybe you can still pick it out with less zoom and a little more context.

They haven’t quite matched anything I’m finding in my field-guide books.


Tide and deep cold ruffle the ice.

How quickly a year passes. I loved this arrangement at a Tides Institute gathering last summer.