11-6-10 1730 Searsmont. The day is fading, temperature going down. Paddling on Quantabacook (Abanaki= ‘plenty of game animals” ) Lake this afternoon was beautiful, and also cold. Paddle hard, no excuses Alan. Double paddle kayaking has made my J stroke canoe muscles atrophy. However, my stereotypical teutonic reflexes relabeled what I was feeling as ‘good pain’. For open water, a Greenland style double paddle seems much more efficient. And it would probably not work well contesting with the snags of low hanging branches in those thousands of miles of small North American streams that canoe paddles evolved on, and that I haven’t experienced. The water is high enough to be flowing right over the dam that maintains the lake. Marty’s selection of paddles included one of those slender ones with the sensually delicious firm edged hand grip and the long smoothly swelling lines where it gently parts the waters folds. Qunatabacook is one of those rum colored lakes originating in peat bogs…sometimes containing some natural insecticides, as does the Rio Negro flowing from Columbia to join the Rio Branco at Manaus, and thus less mosquito ridden than those without. There were plenty of muskrat lodges, those smaller less well crafted lumps of reed and mud that the little fur bearers pile up and then burrow into to create a home. A wet version of the packrat nests of the Sierras. The more earthquake proof beaver lodges are downstream, apparently. A few water birds, but it was a generally still, slowly coiling, reed framed and tree girdled landscape. The buildings of beautiful downtown Searsmont came into view, and I turned the little canoe around and headed back up to pole my way across the dam, and paddle back North along the lake. The reeds, thinned by fall, and each one making a visually decisive curving statement in relation to the still water and the gently moving air, also made a mild audible comment, perhaps not a complaint, as the gunwales of the canoe strummed by them. A bluejay was brilliant messing around in the undergrowth. I wished for a cardinal. Or the loon. And it was perfect just the way it was.
Back in the house, Marty asked ‘Do you think you remember enough four letter words to help with the gutters?’. We joined our interdependent forces to finish the job of clearing the gutters and re-installing the gutter screens. He didn’t fall, and I didn’t let him. Now Marty has a blaze going in the fireplace. The main course is roasting, and Joanne and Sala are working and chatting, rich with their earlier trip to the Camden Yard Sale and at least one other antique and junk market. Brit, the beautiful daughter, and her family will be arriving soon for dinner. Mildly sore muscles, eyes full of lakescapes, and the prospect of dinner; what more can one want?
About hip fractures; Jamie writes to remind me that the bisphosphonate fracture risk is for the relatively rare SUBtrochanteric fractures..not the common Intertrochanteric kind. Jamie, you may not know your quiet example is the reason I walk up 5 flights of stairs at the JMP rather than calling that infernal elevator!!. And you will be pleased to know I ride a bike back and forth to work on the Cape. What a student; what a teacher!! Thanks again, Jamie!
Also, in the day that is gently fading away outside, lies Liberty. This is a town, about 10 miles from here on the road between Augusta and Belfast, and it has, facing each other, two local industries of note. One is Liberty Graphics, home of the 47cent cuppa coffee (good too..pumpkin spice is the special of the season) and the other , in a building that would gladden the heart of Charles Addams, Liberty Tools, a three story collection of the world of hand tools. Oh, there are some power tools as well, but really only the ones that fit in the hand, and mostly it’s wrenches,dies,hammers,pliers, taps,jigs,micrometers,mauls,drivers,cutters,chisels,bits,bites,and probably a bat or too. Order…oh sure, there’s order..most of the hammers are on the left about half way back, and most of the bits are in the second and third on the right (that would be ‘Store Right’, as in ‘Stage Right’..just in case you make it to Liberty and want to try following instructions). But up on the third floor next to the old magazines and in front of the (literally) termite infested loom frame, there is another stash of hammers, and I kept finding wooden carpenters levels in, on, under and next to other stashes throughout the building.
I was mostly in a file mood, and found some great little files, just the thing I wanted for my novice level jewelry making. I passed up the only slightly damaged adz head for $14, and the complete set of numbered drills ( I really only use the #55 for the stuff I am doing) for $18. A whole bundle of little mill bastards (yes, Dorothy, that really is what you get to call it) cost only $2.00. And I decided against the heavy wood rasp because it was flat, and I kinda wanted one side rounded…for $3!!!..what was I thinking??
What’s so special about this? Well, I guess I could say the place almost glows with the energy of machined, honed, polished and yes even rusted steel. It’s a cathedral..or a place of worship at least…to the glory of steel and to the ingenuity of humans in making such use of an intractable material like Fe. Did you know that one of the first iron works in the new world was on the Saugus, just a bit to the South?
$21.54 later, I went across the street for coffee and to rootle ( a word that I think Aminta made up, and that I find an occasional use for when rummage is too strong) through the bins of seconds. Some beautiful shirts for $4 each that I won’t describe because they are intended for gifts for some of you.
Well, now its morning, 11-7-10, 0745 old time, and 0645 in the glorious fall back time of today. Did you remember? Have you already arrived an hour early? Joanne has a lot of clocks, which she says are all individually set to avoid any synchronous striking. She says she will just stop them for an hour..Fall is easier than the saltation of Spring. The colors are coming alive again as the light increases…I can see enough green to remember what the moss at the base of the beech tree really looks like, and how the carpet of red and yellow leaves that begins at the edge of the clearing really blankets the woods so very completely. Fuji now has a bright orange collar muff, that will hopefully protect her furry little fox body from the unexpected fox hunter. And we will be getting down the road towards Cionas house, and then on to Sister Mary’s for dinner.
Abracos
Alan
Monday, November 8, 2010
Maine 2010 Day 1
11-6-2010 0645 Searsmont. Sitting at Joannes dining room table…well, of course its Marty’s dining room table as well, and he certainly has his mark on the house, on the living space, on the life that they have here. I didn’t mean to diminish that. And yet it’s comfortable to think of this as Joannes Table. The dancing bears painting over the entryway from the kitchen living room, as I sit at the table facing away from the driveway and towards the lake. The glass panes of the mullioned doors of the glass holding cabinet is comfortably and memorably to my left, and the windows that look out on the entryway to my right.
Its getting light around all the edges now, and perhaps also time for Fuji to go out.
She loves it. She scampers off into the breaking day, head up, ears even upper, eyes scanning the terrain ahead. It’s a fast canter really, not her full ears back pursuit gallop, when she stretches out and flows over the ground, airborne for long moments as she crosses a low spot or the line of rocks that marks a ruined stacked wall.
Its completely still, of course, the lake reflecting shiny colors from the sky, the browns and yellows of the thinning foliage framing little shards of reflection, and impossibly metaphorically pure two long strong quavering calls; a loon. Soundscape..
Fuji blends right into the fall woods, and its hunting season, time to seriously and with purpose shoot anything that moves. According to Joanne, there is no middle ground. Those cars parked beside the road mark the spots of the venison harvesting righteously gun toting huntermen. And in this immediate vicinity there are postings that say the taking of any rock, wood or hunting of any kinds without written permission will result in being shot on sight. So you’re shot if you don’t, and shot if you do.
We drove from Woods Hole to Boston yesterday morning. As usual, Alan had all the good reasons why a 8 AM or earlier start was essential. And as usual, it was after 10 when we actually the Fitz-Ritter wine, the coffee, and the breakfast sandwiches in hand and were heading over the Bourne Bridge. I wonder at my own attachment to early departures. There is definitely something beyond the esthetics of the crepuscular time, although that’s certainly a memorable part of it. I love the beginnings , the seemingly empty stage revealed as the mist draws back.. A moment later the squirrel that has been frozen on at the base of a limb suddenly starts down the tree trunk. The coyote that was standing slighty behind the large rock trots forward across the seaweed battlements piled on the rocky tideline by the storm last week. The downy woodpecker sidles into view around the trunk of the dead pine. The loon calls.. once… quavering.. and then again.
Driving North, Gracey kept trying to get us off US 95…apparently her program is trying to save us money by avoiding toll roads. It rained. The little dog wanted to sleep on Sala’s lap. NPR stations along the way have finished their fall fund raising, and were back to routine broadcasts. We went through Portland on 285, and then turned off at Freeport, for the annual visit to LL Bean.
Actually, Fuji and I have an annual walk in the woods; Sala carries on the serious family shopping. And then I leave Fuji in the car and go to gawk at the latest in pheromone attractants, camo tree sits for deer hunters, and those major compound bow hunting outfits for only a shade over a thousand bucks. It was rainy and a little cold…the ice cream stores looked a little folorn. We got back on the road as the light faded.
Got to Searsport about 6:30, and a noisy welcome from Lazlo and Lydia, the resident dogs. Fuji has been here…but of course there is some high tail posturing and we were careful to follow Joanne’s advise to re-introduce them outside the house and of course without any food in the equation. No growling, and we all sit down for ice cold oysters, then scallops, sautéed fall vegetables and salad dinner. Bliss.
Well, its later now. Marty and I took two canoes and Lydia and Fuji and went down the lake to the dam. This is a herring run lake, and Marty as an experience water man takes an active interest in the herring..who are constantly being threatened by the bigmouth bass loving freshies who want to damm out the damm anadromous minnows. The reflections were exquisite, hard to paddle into even, and if it was cold, it was still a perfect cold. We let the two dogs off to run back along the shore. Lazlo had disappeared earlier, probably in search of bacon from the house next door.
And now its time to go to Liberty Tools.
Its getting light around all the edges now, and perhaps also time for Fuji to go out.
She loves it. She scampers off into the breaking day, head up, ears even upper, eyes scanning the terrain ahead. It’s a fast canter really, not her full ears back pursuit gallop, when she stretches out and flows over the ground, airborne for long moments as she crosses a low spot or the line of rocks that marks a ruined stacked wall.
Its completely still, of course, the lake reflecting shiny colors from the sky, the browns and yellows of the thinning foliage framing little shards of reflection, and impossibly metaphorically pure two long strong quavering calls; a loon. Soundscape..
Fuji blends right into the fall woods, and its hunting season, time to seriously and with purpose shoot anything that moves. According to Joanne, there is no middle ground. Those cars parked beside the road mark the spots of the venison harvesting righteously gun toting huntermen. And in this immediate vicinity there are postings that say the taking of any rock, wood or hunting of any kinds without written permission will result in being shot on sight. So you’re shot if you don’t, and shot if you do.
We drove from Woods Hole to Boston yesterday morning. As usual, Alan had all the good reasons why a 8 AM or earlier start was essential. And as usual, it was after 10 when we actually the Fitz-Ritter wine, the coffee, and the breakfast sandwiches in hand and were heading over the Bourne Bridge. I wonder at my own attachment to early departures. There is definitely something beyond the esthetics of the crepuscular time, although that’s certainly a memorable part of it. I love the beginnings , the seemingly empty stage revealed as the mist draws back.. A moment later the squirrel that has been frozen on at the base of a limb suddenly starts down the tree trunk. The coyote that was standing slighty behind the large rock trots forward across the seaweed battlements piled on the rocky tideline by the storm last week. The downy woodpecker sidles into view around the trunk of the dead pine. The loon calls.. once… quavering.. and then again.
Driving North, Gracey kept trying to get us off US 95…apparently her program is trying to save us money by avoiding toll roads. It rained. The little dog wanted to sleep on Sala’s lap. NPR stations along the way have finished their fall fund raising, and were back to routine broadcasts. We went through Portland on 285, and then turned off at Freeport, for the annual visit to LL Bean.
Actually, Fuji and I have an annual walk in the woods; Sala carries on the serious family shopping. And then I leave Fuji in the car and go to gawk at the latest in pheromone attractants, camo tree sits for deer hunters, and those major compound bow hunting outfits for only a shade over a thousand bucks. It was rainy and a little cold…the ice cream stores looked a little folorn. We got back on the road as the light faded.
Got to Searsport about 6:30, and a noisy welcome from Lazlo and Lydia, the resident dogs. Fuji has been here…but of course there is some high tail posturing and we were careful to follow Joanne’s advise to re-introduce them outside the house and of course without any food in the equation. No growling, and we all sit down for ice cold oysters, then scallops, sautéed fall vegetables and salad dinner. Bliss.
Well, its later now. Marty and I took two canoes and Lydia and Fuji and went down the lake to the dam. This is a herring run lake, and Marty as an experience water man takes an active interest in the herring..who are constantly being threatened by the bigmouth bass loving freshies who want to damm out the damm anadromous minnows. The reflections were exquisite, hard to paddle into even, and if it was cold, it was still a perfect cold. We let the two dogs off to run back along the shore. Lazlo had disappeared earlier, probably in search of bacon from the house next door.
And now its time to go to Liberty Tools.
Maine 2010 Day 2
11-6-10 1730 Searsmont. The day is fading, temperature going down. Paddling on Quantabacook (Abanaki= ‘plenty of game animals” ) Lake this afternoon was beautiful, and also cold. Paddle hard, no excuses Alan. Double paddle kayaking has made my J stroke canoe muscles atrophy. However, my stereotypical teutonic reflexes relabeled what I was feeling as ‘good pain’. For open water, a Greenland style double paddle seems much more efficient. And it would probably not work well contesting with the snags of low hanging branches in those thousands of miles of small North American streams that canoe paddles evolved on, and that I haven’t experienced. The water is high enough to be flowing right over the dam that maintains the lake. Marty’s selection of paddles included one of those slender ones with the sensually delicious firm edged hand grip and the long smoothly swelling lines where it gently parts the waters folds. Qunatabacook is one of those rum colored lakes originating in peat bogs…sometimes containing some natural insecticides, as does the Rio Negro flowing from Columbia to join the Rio Branco at Manaus, and thus less mosquito ridden than those without. There were plenty of muskrat lodges, those smaller less well crafted lumps of reed and mud that the little fur bearers pile up and then burrow into to create a home. A wet version of the packrat nests of the Sierras. The more earthquake proof beaver lodges are downstream, apparently. A few water birds, but it was a generally still, slowly coiling, reed framed and tree girdled landscape. The buildings of beautiful downtown Searsmont came into view, and I turned the little canoe around and headed back up to pole my way across the dam, and paddle back North along the lake. The reeds, thinned by fall, and each one making a visually decisive curving statement in relation to the still water and the gently moving air, also made a mild audible comment, perhaps not a complaint, as the gunwales of the canoe strummed by them. A bluejay was brilliant messing around in the undergrowth. I wished for a cardinal. Or the loon. And it was perfect just the way it was.
Back in the house, Marty asked ‘Do you think you remember enough four letter words to help with the gutters?’. We joined our interdependent forces to finish the job of clearing the gutters and re-installing the gutter screens. He didn’t fall, and I didn’t let him. Now Marty has a blaze going in the fireplace. The main course is roasting, and Joanne and Sala are working and chatting, rich with their earlier trip to the Camden Yard Sale and at least one other antique and junk market. Brit, the beautiful daughter, and her family will be arriving soon for dinner. Mildly sore muscles, eyes full of lakescapes, and the prospect of dinner; what more can one want?
About hip fractures; Jamie writes to remind me that the bisphosphonate fracture risk is for the relatively rare SUBtrochanteric fractures..not the common Intertrochanteric kind. Jamie, you may not know your quiet example is the reason I walk up 5 flights of stairs at the JMP rather than calling that infernal elevator!!. And you will be pleased to know I ride a bike back and forth to work on the Cape. What a student; what a teacher!! Thanks again, Jamie!
Also, in the day that is gently fading away outside, lies Liberty. This is a town, about 10 miles from here on the road between Augusta and Belfast, and it has, facing each other, two local industries of note. One is Liberty Graphics, home of the 47cent cuppa coffee (good too..pumpkin spice is the special of the season) and the other , in a building that would gladden the heart of Charles Addams, Liberty Tools, a three story collection of the world of hand tools. Oh, there are some power tools as well, but really only the ones that fit in the hand, and mostly it’s wrenches,dies,hammers,pliers, taps,jigs,micrometers,mauls,drivers,cutters,chisels,bits,bites,and probably a bat or too. Order…oh sure, there’s order..most of the hammers are on the left about half way back, and most of the bits are in the second and third on the right (that would be ‘Store Right’, as in ‘Stage Right’..just in case you make it to Liberty and want to try following instructions). But up on the third floor next to the old magazines and in front of the (literally) termite infested loom frame, there is another stash of hammers, and I kept finding wooden carpenters levels in, on, under and next to other stashes throughout the building.
I was mostly in a file mood, and found some great little files, just the thing I wanted for my novice level jewelry making. I passed up the only slightly damaged adz head for $14, and the complete set of numbered drills ( I really only use the #55 for the stuff I am doing) for $18. A whole bundle of little mill bastards (yes, Dorothy, that really is what you get to call it) cost only $2.00. And I decided against the heavy wood rasp because it was flat, and I kinda wanted one side rounded…for $3!!!..what was I thinking??
What’s so special about this? Well, I guess I could say the place almost glows with the energy of machined, honed, polished and yes even rusted steel. It’s a cathedral..or a place of worship at least…to the glory of steel and to the ingenuity of humans in making such use of an intractable material like Fe. Did you know that one of the first iron works in the new world was on the Saugus, just a bit to the South?
$21.54 later, I went across the street for coffee and to rootle ( a word that I think Aminta made up, and that I find an occasional use for when rummage is too strong) through the bins of seconds. Some beautiful shirts for $4 each that I won’t describe because they are intended for gifts for some of you.
Well, now its morning, 11-7-10, 0745 old time, and 0645 in the glorious fall back time of today. Did you remember? Have you already arrived an hour early? Joanne has a lot of clocks, which she says are all individually set to avoid any synchronous striking. She says she will just stop them for an hour..Fall is easier than the saltation of Spring. The colors are coming alive again as the light increases…I can see enough green to remember what the moss at the base of the beech tree really looks like, and how the carpet of red and yellow leaves that begins at the edge of the clearing really blankets the woods so very completely. Fuji now has a bright orange collar muff, that will hopefully protect her furry little fox body from the unexpected fox hunter. And we will be getting down the road towards Cionas house, and then on to Sister Mary’s for dinner.
Abracos
Alan
Reply Forward
Back in the house, Marty asked ‘Do you think you remember enough four letter words to help with the gutters?’. We joined our interdependent forces to finish the job of clearing the gutters and re-installing the gutter screens. He didn’t fall, and I didn’t let him. Now Marty has a blaze going in the fireplace. The main course is roasting, and Joanne and Sala are working and chatting, rich with their earlier trip to the Camden Yard Sale and at least one other antique and junk market. Brit, the beautiful daughter, and her family will be arriving soon for dinner. Mildly sore muscles, eyes full of lakescapes, and the prospect of dinner; what more can one want?
About hip fractures; Jamie writes to remind me that the bisphosphonate fracture risk is for the relatively rare SUBtrochanteric fractures..not the common Intertrochanteric kind. Jamie, you may not know your quiet example is the reason I walk up 5 flights of stairs at the JMP rather than calling that infernal elevator!!. And you will be pleased to know I ride a bike back and forth to work on the Cape. What a student; what a teacher!! Thanks again, Jamie!
Also, in the day that is gently fading away outside, lies Liberty. This is a town, about 10 miles from here on the road between Augusta and Belfast, and it has, facing each other, two local industries of note. One is Liberty Graphics, home of the 47cent cuppa coffee (good too..pumpkin spice is the special of the season) and the other , in a building that would gladden the heart of Charles Addams, Liberty Tools, a three story collection of the world of hand tools. Oh, there are some power tools as well, but really only the ones that fit in the hand, and mostly it’s wrenches,dies,hammers,pliers, taps,jigs,micrometers,mauls,drivers,cutters,chisels,bits,bites,and probably a bat or too. Order…oh sure, there’s order..most of the hammers are on the left about half way back, and most of the bits are in the second and third on the right (that would be ‘Store Right’, as in ‘Stage Right’..just in case you make it to Liberty and want to try following instructions). But up on the third floor next to the old magazines and in front of the (literally) termite infested loom frame, there is another stash of hammers, and I kept finding wooden carpenters levels in, on, under and next to other stashes throughout the building.
I was mostly in a file mood, and found some great little files, just the thing I wanted for my novice level jewelry making. I passed up the only slightly damaged adz head for $14, and the complete set of numbered drills ( I really only use the #55 for the stuff I am doing) for $18. A whole bundle of little mill bastards (yes, Dorothy, that really is what you get to call it) cost only $2.00. And I decided against the heavy wood rasp because it was flat, and I kinda wanted one side rounded…for $3!!!..what was I thinking??
What’s so special about this? Well, I guess I could say the place almost glows with the energy of machined, honed, polished and yes even rusted steel. It’s a cathedral..or a place of worship at least…to the glory of steel and to the ingenuity of humans in making such use of an intractable material like Fe. Did you know that one of the first iron works in the new world was on the Saugus, just a bit to the South?
$21.54 later, I went across the street for coffee and to rootle ( a word that I think Aminta made up, and that I find an occasional use for when rummage is too strong) through the bins of seconds. Some beautiful shirts for $4 each that I won’t describe because they are intended for gifts for some of you.
Well, now its morning, 11-7-10, 0745 old time, and 0645 in the glorious fall back time of today. Did you remember? Have you already arrived an hour early? Joanne has a lot of clocks, which she says are all individually set to avoid any synchronous striking. She says she will just stop them for an hour..Fall is easier than the saltation of Spring. The colors are coming alive again as the light increases…I can see enough green to remember what the moss at the base of the beech tree really looks like, and how the carpet of red and yellow leaves that begins at the edge of the clearing really blankets the woods so very completely. Fuji now has a bright orange collar muff, that will hopefully protect her furry little fox body from the unexpected fox hunter. And we will be getting down the road towards Cionas house, and then on to Sister Mary’s for dinner.
Abracos
Alan
Reply Forward
Maine 2010 Day 3
11-8-10 0624. Blue Hill ME. Dry and sleepy under the well padded eaves of Mary and Volkers home just above Blue Hill. The storm front has apparently stalled over Eastern Maine, and roiled wetly overhead all night…now, finally, there seem to be only a few pitter pats, and today it’s light at 6. Joanne must have stopped the clocks after all. Strange to think, as so well explored in that book called something relevant like ‘Latitude’, how carefully precise a few humans had to be to figure out what time it was. Marty figures that about the time we all come to fully depend on internet time, someone will hack the satellite system and so he is studying up on his aledades and peloruses and most of all the ultimate in sun shooting equipment, the sextant. Don’t worry, drink your coffee, this isn’t my day to go off into a rhapsody of Sextantology. But it is impressive to read memoirs like Worsley’s ‘Shackleton’s Boat Trip’ and realize that without that instrument, those 28 men would have voyaged in vain.
Now you can buy an orange colored phone sized gadget at LL Bean for a hundred bucks..press the button and it sends out a signal to the Cloud letting anyone who cares to listen in exactly where you are to within 3 meters. Of course, you don’t want to push that button unless you have a healthy bank account; all those rescue efforts are recharged to the rescuee these days. Cutbacks, you know.
So it kinda pre-stormed yesterday all morning. We got up leisurely and had a eggs sausage and toast breakfast, took stock of the state of the universe of dogs, fishing, the Barrier Islands off Carolina, deaths in the family and Rotary’s sponsorship of school years abroad. It smelled like snow when we finally packed back into the car and drove off up the driveway that curves gently through the little conifers and beeches. Back on the well packed dirt of Pond road,we drove past the homemade signs that explain that any gathering or hunting may result in being shot on sight, and into beautiful downtown Searsmont, past the firestation, the general store , and the church, and thus out of town. Route 3 is littered with antique and second hand book stores, but we motored resolutely on to make lunch in Blue Hill.
Well, not quite, First there was Remys, which is no news to Mainers but a midbox you may not have heard of otherwise. That’s was to get the orange collar cover for Fuji, an orange hat apiece for us deers and turkey look alikes, and of course just the pair of Sanita ex Dansco clogs that Sala was looking for. For the footware in-cogniscenti, apparently that which was once Dansco is now Sanita…the lasts’ were passed..if you once fit Dansco, you now want Sanita. And then, right next door as though placed there by the Tempter itself was the Goodwill, in an only slightly less upscale midbox of its own in the middle of what had been, until recently, blueberry bushes. That’s where we got the discretely fuzzy brown warm plaid shirt that Sala wore last night for dinner.
We did, eventually, arrive down the quarter mile of winding driveway off the main road into Blue Hill that leads to Volker’s well kept grounds. The slim and efficient stacks of cut firewood, each with its current iteration of the eternal quest for the perfect waterproof cover held down efficiently adjustable ties fastened to screws set into the lowest tier of logs which has replaced the trendy but ultimately discarded plastic bottles filled with sand that were on trial several years ago. Behind the house, the attachments for the Kubota sit on the graveled assembly pad, waiting the Call of the Tractor. Come snow or sleet or dread of night, the Kubota is ready for Volker to climb aboard and start improving the immediate environment. The driveway sparkles with new topping. Orderly glades are emerging from undergrowth. The little stream burbles and babbles with the influx of water as it enters upstage left and exits downstage right. Sometimes wild turkeys perch in the larger beeches. And the house itself is warm. Unobtrusively, little labor saving devices make life easier. Such as the small orange flag attached to the damper lever on the stove, so that when the discussion of whether the damper is open or closed begins at the dinner table across the room, you can just look.
We visited Cionas beautiful small and energy efficient home, just occupied last year and definitely owner built right down to the brushed cement counters. It’s set in a meadow outside of East Blue Hill, and Ciona was working with a friend to buck up and split wood she had cleared for the house. The superefficient stove was positively bursting out the heat, and we had tea and apple crumble that Jim the Friend had thoughtfully brought. Sala sees a vision of what a winterized addition to the Green House might look like when she roams through Ciona’s house..particularly the usable working pantry and the hot water heating system.
Later, we all dined on Chicken Bog, white flour rolls and cuppycakes for dessert…all gleaned from one of Granma Steinbach’s recipe books. The Bog, which is a savory stew flavored with three kinds of sausage, was Fuji’s favorite. This morning, walking in the cemetery down towards the harbor, Mary had brought one of the cuppycakes, but Fugi was more interested in playing with her miniature tennis ball. It was raining. The wind was cold. A solitary clammer was digging just ahead of the advancing tide on the mudflat below. Fuji ran and ran. I blew the dog whistle. In her own good time, Fuji came dancing back, miraculously still with the ball in her mouth.
Time for breakfast and a wet and stormy saunter by car back down rt 3 and 1 and eventually perhaps back to LL Bean to experience drawing a compound bow.
Now you can buy an orange colored phone sized gadget at LL Bean for a hundred bucks..press the button and it sends out a signal to the Cloud letting anyone who cares to listen in exactly where you are to within 3 meters. Of course, you don’t want to push that button unless you have a healthy bank account; all those rescue efforts are recharged to the rescuee these days. Cutbacks, you know.
So it kinda pre-stormed yesterday all morning. We got up leisurely and had a eggs sausage and toast breakfast, took stock of the state of the universe of dogs, fishing, the Barrier Islands off Carolina, deaths in the family and Rotary’s sponsorship of school years abroad. It smelled like snow when we finally packed back into the car and drove off up the driveway that curves gently through the little conifers and beeches. Back on the well packed dirt of Pond road,we drove past the homemade signs that explain that any gathering or hunting may result in being shot on sight, and into beautiful downtown Searsmont, past the firestation, the general store , and the church, and thus out of town. Route 3 is littered with antique and second hand book stores, but we motored resolutely on to make lunch in Blue Hill.
Well, not quite, First there was Remys, which is no news to Mainers but a midbox you may not have heard of otherwise. That’s was to get the orange collar cover for Fuji, an orange hat apiece for us deers and turkey look alikes, and of course just the pair of Sanita ex Dansco clogs that Sala was looking for. For the footware in-cogniscenti, apparently that which was once Dansco is now Sanita…the lasts’ were passed..if you once fit Dansco, you now want Sanita. And then, right next door as though placed there by the Tempter itself was the Goodwill, in an only slightly less upscale midbox of its own in the middle of what had been, until recently, blueberry bushes. That’s where we got the discretely fuzzy brown warm plaid shirt that Sala wore last night for dinner.
We did, eventually, arrive down the quarter mile of winding driveway off the main road into Blue Hill that leads to Volker’s well kept grounds. The slim and efficient stacks of cut firewood, each with its current iteration of the eternal quest for the perfect waterproof cover held down efficiently adjustable ties fastened to screws set into the lowest tier of logs which has replaced the trendy but ultimately discarded plastic bottles filled with sand that were on trial several years ago. Behind the house, the attachments for the Kubota sit on the graveled assembly pad, waiting the Call of the Tractor. Come snow or sleet or dread of night, the Kubota is ready for Volker to climb aboard and start improving the immediate environment. The driveway sparkles with new topping. Orderly glades are emerging from undergrowth. The little stream burbles and babbles with the influx of water as it enters upstage left and exits downstage right. Sometimes wild turkeys perch in the larger beeches. And the house itself is warm. Unobtrusively, little labor saving devices make life easier. Such as the small orange flag attached to the damper lever on the stove, so that when the discussion of whether the damper is open or closed begins at the dinner table across the room, you can just look.
We visited Cionas beautiful small and energy efficient home, just occupied last year and definitely owner built right down to the brushed cement counters. It’s set in a meadow outside of East Blue Hill, and Ciona was working with a friend to buck up and split wood she had cleared for the house. The superefficient stove was positively bursting out the heat, and we had tea and apple crumble that Jim the Friend had thoughtfully brought. Sala sees a vision of what a winterized addition to the Green House might look like when she roams through Ciona’s house..particularly the usable working pantry and the hot water heating system.
Later, we all dined on Chicken Bog, white flour rolls and cuppycakes for dessert…all gleaned from one of Granma Steinbach’s recipe books. The Bog, which is a savory stew flavored with three kinds of sausage, was Fuji’s favorite. This morning, walking in the cemetery down towards the harbor, Mary had brought one of the cuppycakes, but Fugi was more interested in playing with her miniature tennis ball. It was raining. The wind was cold. A solitary clammer was digging just ahead of the advancing tide on the mudflat below. Fuji ran and ran. I blew the dog whistle. In her own good time, Fuji came dancing back, miraculously still with the ball in her mouth.
Time for breakfast and a wet and stormy saunter by car back down rt 3 and 1 and eventually perhaps back to LL Bean to experience drawing a compound bow.
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