Ocean Point would be our first stop home from the airport. Mother had never been to Maine — she was claustrophobic and the thought of flying terrified her.

But with the help of my sisters and some pre-flight medications, Mother got her courage up and made the trip. Not easy from central Pennsylvania back in the early USAir days. No direct flights and a lot of shuffling around for a rural Pennsylvania gal who had never flown.

When the alarm went off at 3 a.m. I thought it was a fire call and jumped out of bed and into my Husqvarna, not-up-to-code, pseudo-fireboots and headed for the door, forgetting to put on my pants.

Mostly, the only time I get up at that hour is to go to the bathroom. But in this case, the alarm was set for 3 a.m. to “go lobsterin.”

Sunrise is quite early this time of year, and I wanted to be on the water for it, photographically.

There is a mural in the old school house (Lions Club) on Lakeview Road painted by Lonnie Sisson.

Lion Harry Pinkham said the building was purchased from the local school system in 1960, and he guessed that the mural was painted not too long after that. It’s a dandy!

I was down at Hendricks Head Beach one fine Maine day dubbing around with my Hasselblad film camera (I still use film as often as I can) when I noticed a beautiful young girl strolling down the driveway in front of what used to be Ruth Gardner's house, heading my way.

She had a brown chicken under one arm and a white chicken under the other. I was mesmerized (I think that's what I was). Anyway, I couldn't believe my eyes. The little girl, then maybe 10 years old, walked over to the seawall and launched the chickens out toward me and the ocean.

Jane Fawcett at Star Cottage used to invite me over for tea.

We'd bump into each other in the harbor or at the Shop 'n Save and promise to be in touch. It seemed like an annual event. For me, it was fun to visit, then walk around the island.

Over the years I have gotten to know a few summer visitors on the island: Spaeth, Marinell, Kerr, Duvall, Mitchell (Sadie, no relation), Rob Hopkins and others. An interesting mix.

As you walk along the waterfront in the Harbor and pass around the by-way next to the old bowling alley, you will come to a sidewalk that heads downslope to the famous Boothbay Harbor footbridge. The footbridge was meant to connect the east side and the other side of the harbor, which it does.

But before getting to the footbridge, you will approach the entrance to Andrews' Harborside and a kitchen window peek into the world of Chef Craig Andrews, as I did, and do, from time to time.

First of all, let me offer special thanks to the folks who print the Boothbay Register newspaper. I had some concerns about the photograph I shared in last week's paper. It was dark with little contrast — a challenging image to be sure.

But I gotta say, the printing crew did a very good job. Color ink on newsprint is no easy chore. There is dot gain, registration, and general mayhem associated with the speeding web press that prints the paper. Thank you for your efforts to print photos well.

So here's the thing.

I was returning from visiting our friend Dominic at Mid Coast Hospital around 10:30 p.m. Driving down the peninsula on old familiar Route 27 can be a challenge late at night, especially after a long day. Admittedly, I was pooped.

As I drove through the meadow by the Y, I noticed a car cross the road in front of me, turn around, pull up onto the sidewalk and turn off its headlights. Oooooh, wake up call! Why would somebody do that? When I passed the car, I recognized a local constable on patrol. One more reason to pay attention.

Tom Evans came to Maine 95 years ago in his momma's belly. To the best of my knowledge, he has been coming here ever since.

Tom ended up on the shores of Southport's Sheepscot Bay through no fault of his own.

About seven or eight years ago, I planted a whole bunch of lupine seeds all over our property. I especially hoped for some to take in the back field and meadow, which really seemed well suited for one of my favorite plants.

The field light moves nicely across the grasses and through the trees. From what I'd read, lupine would like it there. I was excited to see if they would grow.

People around here are so thoughtful.

I can't tell you how many times someone has called me about an area scene that they thought was photo-worthy. Some have been great and others, not so much. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

For many years, Mac Andrews had the Gulf Station on the corner by the blinking light in the Harbor, across the street from Wheeler's Drugstore in the building recently completely redone for Alison Evans Ceramics. Many years of good visits there at the wonderful walk-in pharmacy — for drugs and socializing.

Mac and I used to share stories about our times on Barters Island. He had long-time family ties there and we lived in one of the old Roberts’ properties just over the road from the Burnham family and our old friend Eddie Soule. Quite an adventure for a couple of newbies on the block.

I think it's spring. It's warmer and there's more daylight. There certainly are more people around.

As I get older, I think the transition for spring works differently — and doesn't work differently.

Flowers seem to remind me of spring. Flowers seem to come up more in spring. So this is the time of year when I try to plant things.

It was a clear and warm May afternoon in Boothbay Harbor and people were milling around the waterfront casually enjoying a perfect spring day.

The Novelty was heading out for one of its scheduled daily trips around the Harbor and to Squirrel Island. There were five people aboard, with Captain Heather at the helm. Two of the passengers were a couple from Massachusetts for whom I'd photographed the day before at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens.

The region is perking up. More people are moving around. Delivery trucks are dropping off inventory and out of state vehicles zip along through town checking things out.

Opera House seasonal activities are starting to ramp up a bit now, too. New names and shows visit as Opera House staff continues to introduce migrating entertainers on their way through New England.

Kevin Kiley, who has worked off and on, and now full-time at the Opera House, senses the new pace as well.

The area thimbles and channel markers (high exposed places) are back in business. Returning seasonal resident osprey have flown in from warmer climes to renest atop the Southport bridge, squawking and screaming. It always amazes me — cars crossing the bridge, boats at all hours, the rotating platform — nothing seems to bother these intrepid visitors.

There must be something I don't appreciate about living on top of the Southport bridge.

The osprey that live in Cozy Harbor (pictured above) make a swing around our home from time to time. I think we may be under a landing approach — memories of Brunswick P-3 Orions.

Have you ever happened upon a place and wondered out loud to yourself, “What the heck was going on here?”

In the late 1970s or so, while I was trying to convince myself that a living could be made with photography, Susan and I were out “riding the roads” somewhere north of Route 17. I don't remember where it was exactly, just that general area.

Idle farms. Old machinery standing in fields. Quiet.

When Liz Evans isn't on call for the East Boothbay General Store, she might be playing “Candy Land” with her girls. Or they play something that resembles “Candy Land,” without candy. I never did well with board games — always picked the “lose a turn” card!

Liz's girls, Sabine and Astrid, keep things moving around the house. They are quite the team. When I visited, Sabine was creating new architecture with magnetic building materials. Astrid was helping her mother reorganize interior spaces.

Over the years of photographing here in Maine, I have always tried to respect the private properties of others. But every now and then I slip up.

Sometimes places I have visited for years change hands, and suddenly I find myself in a place without permission. Or shores I used to walk without concern produce signs alerting me to a territorial shift.

How could anyone not be curious about someone named Rinker Buck?

Even if I made bad photos of him, it would be very interesting to meet this person.

As it turned out, Rinker Buck was even more fascinating than his name, and my photos for his latest book turned out OK.