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.

For several years we have been visited by owls. I’m not sure if we are on their stopover route or if it is just a good food area. At any rate, it's fun to see them from time to time, even if they don't seem to stay around for long.

The other morning, on the sheep shed roof, one of our occasional visitors turned up. Perched on an overlooking corner, Owlie surveyed the neighborhood, presumably hoping to harvest a vole or a skittish red squirrel.

Activity around the shed went quiet quickly as our visitor patiently watched for a possible meal.

Imagine being a farmer who raises one crop that takes between three and five years to mature. A water crop, no less, that must survive and flourish in the Damariscotta River, through coming and going tides, ice flows, temperature variations, boat traffic, predators and unwanted contaminants. And I used to think a good crop of winter wheat was challenging!

Barbara Scully has farmed the world-famous Glidden Point Oysters for 28 years. With the help of an energetic and well-coordinated crew of young folk (including her son Benn and daughter Morgan), Barbara runs the whole operation.

She has encountered many obstacles along the way, both personal and professional, but the woman's energy and knowledge is palpable.

Uncle Rupert let me borrow his snowshoes to check on a couple cottages I look after. I had never used snowshoes before. Can you say, “buns of steel?” Who needs those fancy video workout programs.? It was all I could do to get back in the car.

Where's the Advil? Trying to get out of bed the next day was, shall we say, challenging. Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here. I should get out more.

Anyone who sits or stands in front of the computer screen to collect email knows it’s not always fun or interesting.  

Our computers, not unlike our old mailboxes, can fill up with unwanted junk, despite ambitious efforts to prevent that from happening.

So it was with great surprise and pleasure that I saw an email roll in from Hodgdon Yachts and Audrey Hodgdon.

So (as my sister would say), here's the thing.

Over the years, it's come to my attention that two subjects are frequently recorded by many who paint, photograph, sculpt, etch and just generally observe.

When the lights are on, somebody's home.

More than likely you will find Barbara Rumsey studying this or that in her office at the Boothbay Region Historical Society building on Oak Street.

This week's image was made the same day I booked reservations for St. Lucia — not!

But I am reminded by less than secret yearnings, near and far, for someplace less winter-ish.

Where is St. Lucia? I seem to hear frequently of people heading there, planning to head there, or there.

Dean Morrison was checking back into Southport late fall as I drove by his house.

Darned if I hadn't just been wondering how he was doing, and presto! Dean appears.

Appearances are part of Dean's way. Disappearances too. Never quite know where or when he might show up, but the appearance is guaranteed to be worth the price of admission when he does.