This Halloween wasn’t very productive. I didn’t get out to solicit treats and my bag of tricks had a hole in it. Oh well, I hope that others had a more successful experience. It did get a little windy for the broom-toting witches. I saw a couple struggling to make the rounds during the early evening. It looked like they may have entertained second thoughts in excessive turbulence! All in good fun though as people filled the streets. Now, the sugar consumption should be wearing off a bit with some jittery after effects!

One of Boothbay Harbor’s most revered residents is coming back for a visit. 

The Sherman Zwicker is returning to her adopted home for some updating and repairs at Sample’s Shipyard. The significant tow had to await good weather and arrangements for a proper tugboat and crew. I remember photographing the Zwicker's departure for New York City as she passed Cuckolds Light off Cape Newagen years ago.

One of my favorite adventures, if you can call it that, has always been visits to Damariscove Island. It’s a pretty special place with tons of history, going way back, well before my times here in Maine. Much can be learned about the island from the research and writings of Chip Griffin who actually wrote a book about Damariscove called “Coming of age on Damariscove Island.” Chip is the go-to guy when it comes to the history of the island and has shared his knowledge frequently for our benefit. It is a rich history, full of twists and turns that are, in many cases, difficult to consider. At five or six miles out to sea from Boothbay Harbor, it’s hard to imagine how “developed” it once was with farms and families.

When all else fails, find something red! 

Not sure if I read that somewhere or if my imaginary sidekick whispered in my ear. Either way, this scene caught my eye as I was wandering around during my weekly visit to Sample’s Shipyard where there is much activity at the travel lift. Boats are coming out of the water left and right.

Time marches on as is reflected by the changing colors of our world. This is when the much awaited and, for me, most enjoyed season begins to evolve. It’s my favorite time of year; wish that it could stay with us a bit longer. It’s a kaleidoscopic motion picture which leads us every year on a journey into whatever nature has in store. And every year is different.

I flew with Doctor John Andrews and lived to tell the story, or should I say, "Stories." Still recovering to this day! It wasn't Air Force One, it was more like "Adams Pond" and hold on!

When I came to Maine I did not know who Andrew Wyeth was, but I quickly learned. One of my favorite subjects is his painting of the Olson House in Cushing. I have visited there alone, and with family and friends many times and still enjoy walking the property and wandering through the house. As many know, I am a sucker for old buildings and historic locations. For me, the Olson House pretty much captures everything that appeals to me. The weathered wooden exteriors with aging clapboards, rooms with peeling paint and plaster, old glass, simple furnishings and, last but not least, the great kitchen and stove and attached barn.

In 1971, freshly graduated from a Pennsylvania State Teacher’s College (just renamed a university), I started to look for a job. It was not a great time for new work, jobs were scarce and many my age were still available for the draft, which made job hunting even more complicated. I had a very low number in the first draft lottery meant to fill military quotas for Vietnam, and my college had a huge mandatory Army ROTC program at the time. When I checked with my draft board in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, the woman with whom I spoke said, “Pack your bags!” There was a big draft call and enlistment from central Pennsylvania. We all were hunters, familiar with the use of firearms, and prime prospects.

A quick riddle. How do you identify a vehicle from West Southport? Look in traffic for something that looks like it traveled between Caratunk and Rockwood via dirt roads. These are pretty easy to identify, often driven by disgruntled and confused drivers who make hand gestures during lane changes. Do not take these gestures personally. Just return the gesture and smile. Non-local drivers eventually realize how much we like to share!

Before I get too far offshore with this week’s adventure to Monhegan Island, I’d like to mention new information regarding last week’s subject, the new book “The Baycliff Saltwater Farm Family” by Dr. Clarice Yentsch. I mentioned that the book could be found through Waypoint Foundation’s website. Well, the good news is that it will now be available at Boothbay Harbor’s Sherman’s Bookstore. I didn’t goof exactly, but I wasn’t certain enough to mention this last week. So, get your copy soon because there may not be an unlimited supply.

Last week we, and a variety of interested souls, had a lovely and unique visit at Southport Memorial Library. A diverse group from near and far had an opportunity to hear Dr. Clarice Yentsch chat about one of her most recent creations, "The Baycliff Saltwater Farm Family," a book about a historically significant and personal parcel of land situated on an inside stretch of the Sheepscot River across from the southern end of Indiantown Island. An accumulation of wonderful text accompanied by an exceptionally diverse collection of art, this book offers an original and historical glimpse into many lives and ways that celebrate place and people. It is a special recognition of how much the natural world offers and how our fleeting presence can reveal who we are and what we have become. It is a glimpse.

When our daughters were little people, we spent many fun times with family and friends at Barrett’s Park, a wonderful spit of land surrounded by Lobster Cove waters, sandwiched between Sprucewold, the road to Wall Point and greater Linekin Bay. It’s a public park with a private feel.

Long before I came to Maine, photography interested me. I didn’t know much about the process but enjoyed the adventure. It was a cool way for me to “focus," which was always a challenge due to some crossed wires in my brain. Looking through the tiny viewfinder helped me stay on subject without distraction, and keep an eye out for fun things. I started processing my own black and white films in, around or about 1965. “Magic in a box,” I used to call it. After high school and college I continued to photograph with no particular intention other than pure enjoyment.

Long before I came to Maine, photography interested me. I didn’t know much about the process but enjoyed the adventure. It was a cool way for me to “focus," which was always a challenge due to some crossed wires in my brain. Looking through the tiny viewfinder helped me stay on subject without distraction, and keep an eye out for fun things. I started processing my own black and white films in, around or about 1965. “Magic in a box,” I used to call it. After high school and college I continued to photograph with no particular intention other than pure enjoyment.

Danny Beal and I landed here in the Boothbay area at about the same time. I, a traveling Willberry from away, and Danny, a traveling show from the Jonesport-Beals area. It was the late ’70s and nobody much cared. I found Arthur Barlow and Dwight Plummer at Harbor Motors, and Danny found a community of wonderful encouraging supportive fans.

To mow or not to mow, that is the question!

It’s a toss up, but it’s hot and it’s dry. The grass is long and if I mow there will be a raking party for sure. But keeping the grass long in extended dry spells with high heat, I think, helps to protect the grass from going up in smoke. With an abundance of ledge and poor soil, it doesn’t take long for our grass to turn to straw. So, I have opted not to mow, just yet. Maybe after a little rain, which I hope comes soon, I can launch the John Deere for the much needed haircut.

Dog owners beware! Porcupines are back!

On another note: The past week or so, and perhaps even into much of this week, we will be experiencing some foggy weather. It’s all a part of easing into spring, I guess.

It was a magnificent Maine day for the Harbor community and guests, from land and by sea.

Wonderful bluebird sky, painterly puffy clouds, bright sunshine and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a Windjammer Days tradition. All aboard Captain Mark Stover’s Redhook historic vessel. Who could ask for more!

“Build it and they will come!” I think a movie baseball metaphor is appropriate for our annual big event here in the Boothbay region. Only, in our case, perhaps a slight modification of the phrase might be, “Sail it, and, weather permitting, we hope they will come!”

Every year at this time, there are big doings here in “River City.” Windjammer Days sort of officially marks the liftoff of the summer season as the Harbor fills with visiting guests, seasonal residents and, fingers crossed, sailing ships from near and far. Ultimately, however, the final determining factor lies with the great Mother of Nature. The weather really counts and, despite all plans, Mother has the final say.

In the late 80s, we had some concerns about my late mother-in-law. At that time she was living in New Jersey and Pennsylvania with friends and we were not able to have much first hand personal time together. A few things seemed to be popping up that made us consider moving her to Maine so we could be closer and keep a better eye on things. And, to boot, our daughters, Grammy’s granddaughters, were cute little peanuts and Grammy’s pride and joy. She missed them and us. It seemed like a good idea to be closer.