Albert Greenleaf does not go lobstering. I don't know if he ever did, even though he grew up on the western shore of Barters Island. He could go to the waters of the Sheepscot River easier than he could go to town.

Albert did go to Germany in the service, though. He speaks German. If you say “guten tag” to him as he is walking to the fire station he will reply accurately and precisely in German. Maybe going to Germany had something to do with why he didn't go lobstering. I'm not sure.

Some of my earliest work here in the region was with Bigelow Lab.

Charlie and Clarice Yentsch hired me to make some photographs at the labs for a promotional piece they were preparing. I remember wandering around the McKown Point property recalling smells from high school chemistry class mixed with washed up dead fish that our dog rolled in. There was a lot of strange equipment and some pretty interesting people. Rather fascinating actually.

The milkweed is blooming here at the old homestead. What a wonderful fragrance. I never realized.

To me, milkweed always showed up on our fall field walks to school. Nothing to write home about — old dried up pods with silky strands, seeds and white goo. Interesting shapes though.

The most common question asked by many who live here year around is, “What is it like here in the winter?” The second most common question is, “What is it like here in the winter?”

Well, the answer is not simple. It depends a lot upon who you ask. If you ask me, last winter was, on a 0-10 scale of aggravation, an 8.795. Scores did not seem to vary much throughout the region.

Mark Stover has great stories about his family connection to the Life Saving Station at Damariscove. You can hear his genuine affection for the place when he talks about the island and its history.

Recently I got a call from a charming young lady from “Down South” who is a school teacher interested in photography. She wanted to see some of the special spots around the Boothbay region and thought I might have some suggestions.

Another one of my favorite places in the region (there are many as has been noted) is the property on Cozy Harbor we called Roscoe's Place. I'm sure that's not its proper name but folks knew what we were talking about when we called it that. It is just across a tiny tidal inlet from what used to be Gus Pratt's store. Roscoe's boathouse and wharf are still there, as is the dock, but the house is gone. A small and beautiful outbuilding still remains too, up from the water.

We met Roscoe (Rand) during summer visits with our friends Marylou Teel and Peter Freundlich from New York City. They had Roscoe look after their motorboat, and he did some repairs for them on a turnabout, I think.

Our daughters learned to spell by ear. Fortunately for us, music, singing, reading and theatre were part of their lives from a very early age.

Their ears were well tuned.

Diane Randlett visited Lynette Page’s back field of dame’s rocket back before the Boothbay Register was printing photographs in color. Diane made a great black and white photo, which showed how the plant was making a home at the Page house. My photograph, when compared to Diane’s, really shows how the plant has spread, even into the neighbor’s yard, Mrs. Page pointed out.

I learned of this field of dame’s rocket through a phone call from Jan Beaver, over on Union Street in the Harbor. She mentioned seeing the vast array of blooms and suggested I visit.

Geese, like red squirrels, are either loved or hated. Sometimes loved and tolerated, depending upon the circumstances. It’s one of those, “not in my back yard” situations. Geese may be more enjoyed when they frequent the empty lot next door instead of the freshly mowed grass of the front yard. They float nicely too in area waters.

Geese, unlike reds, are not inclined to breech an attic vent or burrow into a foundation. Red squirrels inside a house go completely bonkers, setting off motion detectors, chewing up wires and furniture, and in general, camping out wherever they please. Geese don't do that.

This time of year always reminds me of “Miss Rumphius.”

We read “Miss Rumphius” to the girls when they were little, and to ourselves when we wanted. For those who may not know “Miss Rumphius,” you should.

So, most people who live here or visit regularly know the “rules of the road.” But, every now and then, there is what I call a “flummox” - you know, a crossed wires situation. In the words of some famous movie person, “A failure to communicate.”

Grover's Alley (my name for it) presents “flummox” opportunity.

Calm. Empty. Peculiar. For a mid-week day, the quiet was unusual.

It’s not what I’ve come to expect in Wiscasset, especially with discussions about traffic along Route 1, bypasses, crosswalks, economic impact and other general concerns. The stillness was nice for the moment, but certain to change.

The reflective image I have chosen for this week is quite different from last week’s photo. I guess that’s obvious.

This photo was made on the longest day of the year in June. The beauty of the longest day is that light gets to places not lit at other times of the year. In this case, I found myself under the Newagen Town Landing pier during a pretty low tide.

Last week’s attempt at abstract expressionism didn’t work out too well.

I think the folks who print the paper may have wondered if Old Mitch got into the mushrooms again.

I actually received a phone call from a “friend” who asked me if I had any more of those photos of spilled coffee .... And if I did, to please keep them safely filed!

Isn't this owl's expression just a little intimidating?

The wise old owl, or younger owl, in this case. To me, the look we are getting suggests, “Nothing to see here, just move along.”

These are some really serious birds. I'd never seen one except in a Harry Potter movie or in famous photographer photos from Yellowstone or National Geographic. Why would they come to Maine, anyway?