A set of eight winter images “Around Boothbay Harbor” by Robert Mitchell.

Individual notecard sets (8 cards and envelopes) are $14.95 each plus $4.50 packing and shipping.


To order notecards by phone or email or for more information, please contact us

You may also reach us at:

Robert Mitchell
504 Hendricks Hill Road
Southport, Maine 04576
(207) 633-3136


2016 Around  Boothbay Harbor Calendar:
Now Available! 

Around Boothbay Harbor 2016 Calendar

A full-color 2016 calendar featuring 12 unique images “Around Boothbay Harbor” by Robert Mitchell.

Individual calendars are $13.95 each plus $4.50 packing and shipping.  

Order calendars online!

To order a calendar by phone or email or for more information, please contact us

You may also reach us at:

Robert Mitchell
504 Hendricks Hill Road
Southport, Maine 04576
(207) 633-3136


Mitchell Photography Blog

Ocean Point

When all else fails, go to Ocean Point!

When winter days become mostly nights. When your body batteries seem to favor the low end of charge. When the grumpies move in next door. And, when cookie monster is helping you shop the outside edges of the grocery store shelves, maybe there is something else contributing to “the midwinter blues.”

Kit and Leigh

I don't think Kit and Leigh Sherrill watch much television.

They are very active folks, community volunteers who help many organizations throughout the region including the district nurse and the heating fund.

Kit is a “retired” Episcopal priest who never quite retired. Leigh just doesn't ever seem to lack for things to do.


Clear is really clear this time of year.

When the air temperature drops and the cold fronts descend, the intensity of the light ratchets up. On really cold days, the moisture is driven from the air. This allows light to travel with less or no dispersion through the sky to our eye, or more exactly, to our lenses.


Andy Benoit is a very familiar face here in the region.

He was a doctor at St. Andrews for many years. He jogs all around the area, cross country skis, ice skates, bikes and roller blades. Athleticism runs in the family.

He is the only person I know, other than my wife, who brings home from the dump more than he takes.

Last Winter

Almost to the day, a year ago, I made the above photograph.

Not exactly sure why I was out wondering around on such a cold and blustery day, but I was. January 8, 2015. My phone had just left my hand and dropped into a crack in the rocks — it was ringing and flashing but nobody home.


Before sharing my confusion with you, let me give you a little background.

I went to public schools in rural central Pennsylvania. Good enough school. We were pretty well taught.


“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

The Postal Service has no official motto, but these words appear above the entrance to New York City Post Office on 8th Avenue. They come from Book 8, Paragraph 98, of The Persian Wars by Herodotus. During the wars between the Greeks and Persians (500-449 B.C.), the Persians operated a system of mounted postal couriers who served with great fidelity.

Mary B

Mary Brewer had been working at “The Register” office for over ten years when I sent a letter to the editor in 1975. My tale about picking up lobsters for Phyllis Washington at “Treasure Island” on Little River cleared the editorial staff in good shape with only the lightest touch from the punctuation department.

Doubled up paper bags from Finast grocery store, provided by then lobsterman Mr. Alley, had let go on my walk home and the lobsters took off down Hiawatha Trail. The story wasn't particularly noteworthy but it was the beginning of my association with the paper and Mary B.

David of Stimson

The violin confused me.

Clearly I had entered a sacred space. A vessel's shell ran the length of a large open bay with parts and pieces and tool stations everywhere, filled with wood smell. It's an interesting world that has always fascinated me. Building a boat. Preparing for water.

Night light

So, there I was, at the edge of darkness. The sun had set and a full moon flooded the Harbor. Tugboat Inn — closed for the season — I would annoy no one. A small red building at the end of the Inn's parking lot called out to me and I responded.

A combination of moonlight and an adjacent street light made the red building glow. Long exposure rattled around in my head. I seldom carry a tripod and figured the exposure I anticipated would be a few seconds (at least) so I needed a solid camera rest.