Cider Hill Road, York, ME
I didn't think we were going to have color this fall due to the drought and strange weather....but momma nature is resilient and she's come through, just a bit later than usual. 
Cape Neddick River, Cape Neddick, ME
Noon at Friendship Harbor, ME
We're off to the land of no internets or cell phones for the weekend. I've been practicing my downeast accent, but it remains so bad that I don't think it would fool a lobster.
Exciting news from York: a pair of Bald Eagles has been spotted in the dead trees on the York River a number of times over the past few days. We're hoping that they're shopping for a new home and will find the real estate in York to their liking. We also hope that they like to pose for pictures.
Have a great weekend, y'all. Go Sox. Go Indians. Go Bucks! Boil the Boilermakers.
...for a couple of reasons.
First: There's a Maine adage that every home in Maine becomes a bed and breakfast during June, July and August as friends and relatives from away visit vacationland USA, and it's held true for every summer we've lived here.
The summer is a mostly enjoyable flurry of washing towels and changing beds, driving down 103 to Chauncey Creek with a guest for the first time, loading beach chairs and coolers into the car and heading to the beach for the day, and quick trips to Freeport, Monhegan and down east. It's grilling out for eight and nights on the deck until long after dark, laughing and talking with friends and family. Come September, we get the house back to ourselves and a chance to catch our breath.
Until this summer. If you don't count Wedding Weekend, we had nary a visitor. We weren't lonely or bored, mind you. We were just without house guests.
That all changed on Labor Day weekend. Of the 30 days of September, we had only seven days without house guests. It's the way life should be. My aunt and uncle had their first clam chowder (and their second and third), their first lobster (one was enough), and a live view of a former President and First Lady, complete with a handshake. My parents got to see the Cushing Cottage and our good buddies Dick and Ount Potty got to visit Cushing and work for their lodging (installing lights and trimming some landscaping--thank you so much). We hosted the Yankees' fans on the weekend that the Sox played the Yankees and the friendship emerged intact.
Second: the weather. We've yet to have a deep frost. We've yet to have a night in the 30's. I put on the flannel sheets and took them off after one night, as temperatures soared back into the 80's. We have no foliage to view. This time of year, it should be a riot of color,
but even in the western mountains, a colorful tree isn't the mainstream, it's a rebel ahead of its time. We had a bit of a cool start yesterday, but the forecast calls for 80's again this weekend.
We've also got a house full of guests planned for this weekend. The way it's going, we're going to need to call September the new July and October the new August.
Chauncey Creek Lobster Pound, Kittery Point, ME
The perfect marriage of Maine and Ohio.....(not my plate, by the way, just a too perfect Photo Op for the Mainah who was born in Ohio).
Lobster Boats, Friendship Harbor, ME (edited in Photoshop)
Friendship Harbor is the second biggest fishing harbor in Maine....according to local wisdom.
Rt. 1 Bridge between Kittery, Maine and Portsmouth, NH
Next time Baldacci asks for some tax dollars to improve our infrastructure, I'm voting yes....again.
We're off to what Downeast Magazine calls "Maine's most authentic country fair", and a weekend in Cushing with Retired Guy's brother and sister-in-law. We'll have a weekend of organic, locally grown food, sustainable living and a picture fest from The Trip To Italy....can't wait.
Have a great weekend y'all. We'll be in the land of no TV, no internet access and spotty cell phone reception.
Go Sox. Please.
We met our Cushing neighbor this weekend (that's him up there). He's a rarity in Maine these days-- a
real, live lobsterman who can afford waterfront property--even if they own the property out right, taxes for waterfront property often are more than a lobsterman can afford. Or some CFA is willing to pay such a dear price for the land, a practical Mainer will sell and move to a house off-water. Lobstermen who don't live on the water often fish from floats moored in a harbor (like that one at right).
Our neighbor lives on the water because his family has owned the property for over 250 years and he drives a truck most of the winter to supplement his fishing income. The house has no furnace and no basement. The washing machine is in the garage and the dryer is a clothesline.
As soon as they realized we were mainers, and we weren't "mass-people", they offered us lobsters Rich had brought home that day. Then they told us to borrow their kayaks any time--don't even ask. Then Richard said he'd make sure that our drive was plowed so we could get to the house in winter. If he was on the road, his wife would be able to plow us. He also volunteered to help take down any trees on our property that are "wind damaged."*
We quickly found out that they don't like the neighbors on our other side anymore than I'm guessing we will.....it's never good to jump to conclusions with neighbors or people in general, but the two interactions we've had with them make me a tad wary. The first time we met them, they handed us a formal contract for the maintenance of our lane and said that we needed to "get this matter taken care of immediately." okaaaayyy. We fully plan to contribute to the upkeep of the lane, but I'm far more comfortable working out a handshake deal--not signing a legal document that could land us in court. My word is bond. I'd hope that they are the same way.
The second time, they brought their three Irish wolfhounds over and let them run amok in our yard and garden. If you've never seen one of these puppies in person, click the link to see just how ginormous these guys are. Anyway, one tried to sit in Retired Guy's lap while the other two tormented mac the dog. One would have been a bit much, but three was out of control. Then they mentioned that they'd turned in the lobsterman* for taking down trees on his land in such a way that we took it as a warning that we should not improve the view on our land. As soon as they left, we took down about 15 trees--with a hand saw.
I also have a sneaking suspicion that part of my wariness is because they're from away and they act like they are from away. They moved to Maine because they love Maine, but now that they're here, they want to start changing things.
Yesterday we had lunch at our favorite spot in all of Maine. Seafood chowder and a crab melt for me; lobster bisque and a lobster BLT for our New Yawk friends.
Rather than tell you where it is, I thought I'd see if anyone recognizes the spot from the photo.
We've got friends coming to visit for the weekend, but they aren't arriving until later this evening. We wanted to eat suppah in the pub, so I called the York Harbor Inn to make sure they'd be serving dinner at 10-10:30.
The really nice lady on the other end of the phone informed me that they had a "late night" menu so they'd be serving late.
Now I'm excited. My late is midnight......then she says "ayeuh, that late night menu goes until 10 pm." Oh.
My friends (they live in Manhattan) consider 10 pm the normal dinner hour. I've got some explaining to do.
[as always, click to enlarge]
We're off to the mid-coast tomorrow to close on the new house. There's no internets up there (not at our house, at least) so it's over and out until Monday. Enjoy your weekend, y'all! Ours will be spent cleaning and polishing and exploring--unless we bump into the Wisdom Weasel--then it will be spent in the pub as he's offered to stand beers for us and I'll never say no to a free beer or two or six. If not this weekend, my friend, then soon.
Are you having trouble making ends meet? Need a little extra cash in your pocket ?
Well here are two ways to make money immediately: 1) be a blueberry thief or 2) be a blueberry sheriff:
A blueberry processor is offering a reward for information leading to the culprits stealing blueberries right out of the fields.While the thieves are raking it in, Cherryfield Foods placed an ad in a weekly newspaper offering a $5,000 reward to help get to the bottom of the thefts.
"I know for a fact that some private growers have reported a half-acre here and a half-acre there stolen," said Ragnar Kamp, general manager of Cherryfield Foods. "Another producer said someone had broken down a fence to steal berries."
August is the height of harvest season for Maine's blueberry industry as tens of millions of pounds of the berries are harvested from the blueberry barrens.
As strange as it might sound, grocery shopping and cooking helps me regain my equilibrium and settle back in after I've been away from home for too long. Especially in the summer when so much good local produce is available and I can tour the countryside while doing the shopping.
Wednesday, I cut out of the office just a bit early and headed out Cider Hill Road to Zack's for four ears of corn, fresh picked that day.
Then a stop at the York Corner Garden (Rt. 1 just south of 91) for peppers, just picked high bush blueberries, local tomatoes, and a few organic peaches (not local).
For dinner, we had this delicious tri-tip roast, compliments of Elise, fresh tomato/mozzarella salad with basil from the herb garden and roasted corn on the cob, served with a strong pinot noir.
A blueberry/peach cobbler* and coffee on the deck finished the meal off perfectly and by the time the coffee was gone, I felt centered again.
I followed Elise' recipe pretty closely, excepting I used one half green bell pepper and one half red pepper for the salsa, as well as basil. I thought the red added a little festivity to the situation. The tri-tip was delicious, so as Retired Guy likes to say, this recipe's a keepah.
*I'm partial to this recipe that I found in the New York Times quite a long time ago. The cinnamon and nutmeg work perfectly with the peaches.
Ingredients
Directions
1. Start with the blueberries. Combine 2 cups fresh blueberries, 1/2 cup sugar and 2 tbsp butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring until a syrup forms for 6 to 7 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool.
2. Now, the 2 lbs of fresh peaches - pit and peel them, then chop the 2 lbs of fresh peaches (enough to make 3 1/2 cups) you can leave the skin on if you prefer. Toss peaches in a large bowl with 1/4 cup packed light brown sugar, 1/4 tsp grated nutmeg, 1 tsp ground cinnamon and 1 tsp salt. Let sit for a few minutes to absorb flavor.
3. For the cobbler topping: In another large mixing bowl, mix 1/4 cup sugar and 1 egg in a bowl and whisk. Add 1 tbsp baking powder, 1 cup flour, 1 tbsp vanilla extract, and 1/2 cup milk. Beat well with a wire whisk until the mixture is smooth and resembles a cake batter.
4. To layer use a 3 quart rectangular pyrex baking dish spread the peach mixture evenly across the bottom. Spoon the blueberry mixture evenly over the peaches. Then pour the batter evenly over the blueberries.
5. Bake in a 375 degree oven, bake cobbler for 30 to 35 minutes, or until golden brown. Cool for 10 minutes, in order for flavors to meld before serving. Serve warm with ice cream and fresh mint.
I'm flitting in and out of the state in less than 20 hours, rather like this bumble bee was flitting around on the cone flowers last night.
A good friend and colleague's mother has passed away, so it's back to the airport and off to Pittsburgh for a couple of days for the services. Of the first 15 days of August, I've only managed to spend three here. It's not the way I'd plan it, but we do what we have to do.
I briefly considered going directly from Boca Raton to the funeral, but in the end, the cost was the same and I NEEDED to come home, watch the last three (should have only been two innings) of the Red Sox on NESN, dead head the flowers, weed the garden and watch the hummingbirds and hummingbird moths (they're regulars to the garden this summer) feed on the flowers. I also needed to kiss Mac the Dog's ears and pet the cats.
Additionally, in 20 hours I did some laundry, processed some paperwork for the mortgage on the.....wait for it.....wait for it.....cottage that we're buying up to Cushing (more on that later), rescued Lucy from Sublime Restorations where she had a quick face lift to repair a self-inflicted garage door
ding. She looks a good 10 years younger. Ok, now that I've attended to the blog I can flit off to Pittsburgh.
Lots has been happening in Maine, so here are a few links for you to peruse while I'm out:
Oyster Farming Dispute
We hosted our second big time international visitor
Our local beach has its good name sullied by Forbes Magazine
Michiganders buy two of our ski resorts
The RED SOX stink
and
Ding Dong. The Rove is Over.
I had the wrong lens on for taking these shots, but this little guy was so cool, I had to try to capture him....now, does anyone know what it is?
It's the first cool, crisp morning in many mornings. The humidity has broken, the fog's gone elsewhere. It was a perfect morning for coffee on the deck.
Yesterday, we ventured to the mid-coast to look at a couple of "camps"* that are for sale, and we discovered a new favorite place--Damariscotta Mills. It's the quintessential, sweet New England village. In yesterday's heat, the small bridge near the mill was packed with kids and teenagers diving from the bridge, while others floated on inner tubes or sat on the edge of the lake.
We saw a few properties that are financially 'doable' for us, but now, Retired Guy and I have to negotiate the salt water versus fresh water question. I'm leaning lake, he's pulling for ocean. Ocean isn't swimmable (too cold); lake is. Ocean isn't fit for water skiing; lake is. Retired Guy points out that the camp on the lake is very much like "Ohio". Both are great for kayaking; the lake has loons. The ocean has Bald Eagles and Osprey. It will take the wisdom of Solomon to decide this question.
*Camp-the Maine term for a summer cottage, usually on a lake.
One bucket to wash. One bucket to rinse. A steel brush for the extra dirty clubs. A towel to dry them off.
Nothin' fancy, but it works.
I spent much of this weekend, sitting in a red Adirondack chair, book in hand, looking at this view. The book is the excellent On Kingdom Mountain by Howard Frank Mosher, a whopping good story, with a whoppingly wonderful heroine, Miss Jane Kinneson, or the Duchess, as she's known by some. It was a perfect beach book and a better choice for a beach with a view of the White Mountains.
When not enjoying this view, we ventured up into the White Mountain National Forest via Rt. 113. Fortunately for us, the road had washed out a few weeks ago during a thunderstorm. The Ranger turned us around, but he was kind enough to point us to Deer Hill Road and told us about a wildlife viewing station on the road. 
He said if we were lucky, we might spot a moose. At first, it was just this little guy at left, busily moving grasses into his dam. Just as we were about to leave, we spotted momma moose and her baby heading into the bog from the tree line. We watched them graze for about 45 minutes.
Afterwards, we drove back toward Bethel and Sweden and discovered Sally's diner, where we had an excellent corn chowder for lunch.
Dessert was blueberry pie. When we asked if the blueberries were fresh, we were told "the kids picked 'em yesterday in the clearing right across the road." We took the last two pieces to go and then shared them with the golfers when they returned to the camp. It was excellent.
On Saturday morning, I spent the better part of an hour on the screened in porch, looking at Kezar (rhymes with geezer) Lake, listening to the loons and watching hummingbirds, not more than two feet away, fight for a perch at the feeder. They were completely unafraid of me. They were also very loud and quite cantankerous, knocking each other off the feeder, giving each other the whatfor and chasing the interlopers into the brambles.
On Saturday night, we went to Ebenezer Kezer's Pub--a restaurant whose beer list I'd put up against any in all of Maine. I had a terrific Reuben sandwich and fries (watching my weight again) and found the best beer that I've ever tasted, Delirium Tremens. 
It's a light Belgian beer and as good as anything you'll find in any German beer hall (sorry, oma, but it really is).
Sitting next to us was a family of five. The oldest daughter never spoke during dinner, nor did she put her book down. She was half way through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and when asked admitted that she intended to finish it before she slept.
When we arrived home on Sunday afternoon, my copy of Harry Potter, compliments of Amazon.com was waiting. After I'd finished the entire Sunday NYTimes and a perfectly mixed bloody mary on the back deck, it was a perfect finish to a wonderful weekend.
