It's always interesting to see what will pop up on the magic screen, aka computer, to my weekly journeys. Doing things on a schedule with a deadline has never been one of my strong suits. I don't know how people do it. Maybe full-time writing makes it a bit easier. For me, the writing is mixed in with yard work, carpentry, chainsaw and even some photography now and then. Recently, more now than then. Things hop along pretty good in July and August.

This landmark light station has been photographed inside out and upside down for as long as there have been boats in the water around "Booth Bay," almost. It has been on the cover of magazines, featured in videos, made postcards of, housed keepers and their families, studied by students and teachers, visited by thousands and cared for by many.

In our 40-plus years aboard the region, I have made countless photographs from across the bay on Spruce Point, from the air in helicopters and fixed wing puddle jumpers, aboard lobster boats, tour boats and questionable boats which shall remain nameless.

With technology advancing at Captain Kirk “Warp speed,” it's nice to know that some have opted out of a spot on the intergalactic fast train.

In my world of photography, which has experienced rapid change and unprecedented innovation, the old days of view cameras and film seemed destined for the Smithsonian. But as Mr. Berra once said, “It ain't over till it's over.”

The Fish family name has been associated with things nautical for many years here in the Boothbay region.

For decades, Captain Ray Fish owned and operated the Squirrel Express and the Nellie G, shuttling thousands of visitors and summer residents from Boothbay Harbor to nearby islands. Additionally, his boats introduced many to the beauty of our region through local excursions and I'm sure, candid commentary.

The Earls of Leicester concert at the Opera House this past weekend really took me back. Back to the Appalachian coal mining hills of my youth, growing up in central Pennsylvania.

The Earls are described as a bluegrass group but much of their sound reminded me of “Please help me I'm falling, in love with you. Close the door to temptation, don't let me walk through” And, “Walking the floor over you.” A chord was struck.

The last time I visited the Olson House was about 30 years ago. I was doing workshops for the great and powerful Peter Ralston's “Island Photographic Workshops” and the Olson House was on the agenda.

A group of photo enthusiasts gathered at the Ocean House in Port Clyde, where we were all well cared for by Buddy Murdock and his gracious crew. Ralston is a big name in the photo world which attracted folks from all over. How I got roped into leading the workshop is still a mystery, but it was fun and I met some lovely people. I still hear from participants, many of whom had never been to Maine.

It was unfortunate that the weather turned bad on the day boats arrive for the Windjammer festival. But, Mother Nature nature still holds the trump card. Also unfortunate that I had to go to the archives under the bed for an aged 35-year-old image.

Funny thing is I got a call from a New Jersey gent the day after the old aerial photo came out in the paper. He said in all the years he's been coming here (over 300 trips to Maine) — he was a long haul trucker for UPS — he'd never seen the Harbor from that angle. I traded him some magnificent Jersey tomatoes for a print.

This week's photo is a blast from the past.

And I'm not exactly sure how far in the past, but my guess would be the early '80s. There are some telltale landmarks which may help identify the year. It would have been particularly helpful if I had dated the image, but that's way too normal.

Mike could tell you things that you never wanted to know.

He had an unmistakable laugh that you could hear a mile away, and many people did!

Once a gang of us had a birthday party for Mike. He was emphatic about his birthday party. It could not be avoided, even six months late. Every time he got bumped into — “When are you guys gonna have my party?”

In the winter, visitors slow to a crawl. Far less activity when the weather turns cold. Except for the errant robin which, according to our Aunt Bea, heads for the deep woods, visible occasionally announcing that not everyone who can goes south.

But, in spring, it's a different story around here. Things are hopping right now. This place bubbles over with all sorts of new faces, especially of the winged variety.

When Tony Heyl's “A Silver Lining” gave the local cable BRCTV a drone for creating lovely regional aerial videos (see BRCTV7.org), I asked him if he intended to do some flying.

Tony responded, “Mitchell, if I tried to fly that thing, it would be my luck to crash into the ninth tee of the celebrity golf tournament, clobbering some late great hockey player and terminating our careers. I'd much rather be supportive of others and out of sight.

Packed up some gear and waddled over town for a little walk around last week. Fog and the night. Maybe some of my spooky Edgar Allen Poe uncertainties returning. So fun to experience the feel of the Harbor at the time of day/night.

As many people know, I am not one to talk much about photo technical stuff. Especially now with the digital revolution, which continues to befuddle me. Too many things to know for such a small brain. I had film down pretty well and then it mostly went away.

I photographed a wedding over the weekend for a lovely couple from New York City. A great weather weekend!

When they first contacted me and said they were getting married in Maine on May 21, I cringed a little. Do you know what the weather can be like in May?” I asked. “It has been known to snow.”

A good friend, Sally Giantris, left a phone message for me a couple weeks back. She said that a local group of hookers would be gathering at her house for a three day guided workshop.

Now, defaulted personality that I have, memories of my early 1970s’ years working just outside New York City surfaced.

I hope Billy isn't upset with me for this. He is a private person, maybe a little shy, which in many ways, appeals to me. He sort of just goes on with his life, quietly, without fanfare. Billy is a completer -- not many loose ends. Which I also admire since I usually have at least a half dozen things flying around at one time, unfinished.

I think the first time I met Billy Latter was at the old Murray Hill Sonny Hodgdon shop where Margaret, Sonny's wife, delivered homemade fresh from the oven still warm cookies. It was a cozy space and very productive. A perfect fit for Billy and a small group of gifted craftsmen.

Changes of all sorts seem to be the topic of discussion throughout the region these days — golf course, Boothbay Common, area restaurants, renovations to existing facilities, and on and on.

For me, one of the biggest markers for change on our peninsula happens each year about this time, like the swallows returning to Capistrano. The return of seasonal water marks the true arrival of spring.

We had some pretty big doings here on the island last week.

Our volunteer fire department, along with Boothbay and Boothbay Harbor, planned and set up an emergency “mutual aid” practice focusing on the unthinkable prospects of a fire at the Hodgdon Yacht (formerly Boothbay Region Boatyard) facility at the end of Ebenecook Road. This was a large project, coordinating three departments, equipment and many firefighting personnel. Traffic was diverted and roads were blocked. Ebenecook Road, however, became a flurry of activity.

There is so much going on at Boothbay Harbor Shipyard, it's hard to fathom.

A great old sardine carrier, Glenn-Geary, is being checked out for repairs. It has seen some hard times and I'm sure with nautical TLC new life will visit her old bones. Parts of the boat are being probed. How much of the keel needs attention? How good is the hull? New fastenings? New planks? Whatever it takes. I hope we will get to see Glenn-Geary make a miraculous recovery. There are folks at the shipyard who can get it done.

“In the end, we are all just sticks in the mud.”

Seems like a rather odd comment coming from a young man I mentored back in the early ’70s. He lived in the projects in Newark, New Jersey, and would have been hard pressed to even find sticks or mud. The first time he ever saw the ocean was with me at the tender age of 16.

Mary Pinkham has retired as children's librarian at Boothbay Harbor Memorial Library, but as many of us know, she will always remain part of our lives and the lives of our children. For 29 years “Pinkus” gave us more than books and words. She showed us a way to enjoy each other and the experience of coming together. Mary's space was created for the joy of sharing things that will never leave us.