For a quick special moment, the light at the end of the tunnel lit our inside spaces and even the tunnel entrance. The sun sparkled on the ocean waters, puddles almost dried up, blooming and greening things made some progress. Even our peonies had a growth spurt before I had a chance to completely clear out last year's old stems and debris.

The sounds and motions of Cutter II caught my attention as it moved up into Linekin Neck off the Bayville shore.

Water rushed from the wooden traps lifted onto the boat gracefully and grabbed up, placed for emptying and re-bait. Captain Craig circled the boat as the stern man slid a trap overboard. It was like watching a dance without any music.

Romar Bowling Lanes, the bowling alley at 19 Bridge Street in Boothbay Harbor owned by Charlie Rowe and his family for 70 years, will soon be gone. Since Rowe’s death in 2011, the space has been empty. Considered an iconic landmark, the 16,000-square-foot building was built in 1928 by developer O.P. Swope and purchased in 1946 by Rowe and his father-in-law, Leslie Marr — hence the name Romar Bowling Lanes.

Now that building, and the wharf and parking lot on the waterfront behind it, have been sold. The bowling alley will be demolished and a new structure will be built in its place.

When I have exhibited my work, people invariably ask, “What the heck were you thinking about with that photo?” And much to the disappointment of the questioner, I generally reply, “You know, I don't know.”

This has proven, almost always, to be a very unsatisfactory response. But honestly, I really can't explain why. As you might imagine, this can be a pretty challenging position when working on assignment for someone who might have a very definite idea about what is “the best view.”

Since last posting here about the Ernestina-Morrissey project at Boothbay Harbor Shipyard (September 2016), great progress has been made.

Upon arrival, the Ernestina-Morrissey was in hard shape. Looking back through some of my early images reminds me of how desperately repairs were needed. In the early days of this project it was impossible for me to imagine how extensive the work would be and become. 

For all of the time we lived in the Harbor, Mr. Steane owned and operated Rocktide. And, for a fair stretch, I got to work with him on ads, brochures and promotions.

Mr. Steane always arrived at Rocktide in semi formal business attire, which included one of his substantial assortment of bow ties. I used to bust him about the bow ties. He, in turn, suggested that I look into “upgrading” my attire. We managed to tolerate our differences.

Gloves are like underwear. Everybody has preferences. This brand or that. The material. The fit. The fashion.

There are now so many different kinds of gloves. Gloves for work. Gloves for driving. Gloves for skiing, boating, motorcycles, bikes. Gloves that keep you warm and gloves that breath in summer. Rubber gloves. Cotton gloves. Yadda, yadda yadda.

Russ Brackett was the local Nissen bread man back in the ’70s when I worked overnight clean up at The Tugboat Inn. He would land at the most ridiculous hour, entering through the kitchen door, to replenish bakery goods for the restaurant. We'd have a quick visit and maybe share a slice of pie and a coffee and then he would be on his way. A nice break from cleaning the rubber floor mats on the line.

Antonisa, the beautiful 124' sloop built at the Murray Hill Hodgdon shop went into the water in 1999, in this very spot. For that event, it was standing room only. On this day of my photograph, as you can see, there was ample space. Fairly typical of how the seasons run around here. Some might say its sort of nice when there is a little less going on.

You know what really burns me up?

When I brew a wonderful cup of coffee from my favorite stash of exquisite beans (personally ground by me at home), with an elegant dollop of home grown local honey, adding just the right amount of high quality half and half which instantly curdles to floating white chunks.

Eventually everyone who works with computers will experience some sort of problem with the machine. Some are more capable of resolving these challenging moments than others.

Take me for instance, a late arrival to the world of technology. I'm happy as a clam as long as things are running smoothly, beaming up mail, working on photos, ordering online. But, when there is a malfunction, for whatever reason, I freak!

Sometimes when you're not looking, the coolest stuff shows up.

Understanding full well that what I find interesting may not be the icing on everybody's cake.

Last week at this time I contacted Kevin Burnham, editor at the Boothbay Register, to say that my column would be delayed. Snow had drifted up the front door. I couldn't get out. He said he understood, sharing that he hoped to resume the search for his car and begin shoveling.

I removed the glass panel from the storm door from inside and faced chest high drifts between me and the tractor shed. We needed to open up the lane to the state road. It was quite a slog. But we “got 'er done,” eventually.

In the early 1990s, Kernan Cross and I opened a photo lab, Main Street Photo, in Damariscotta. Kernan had good knowledge of lab operations and I had some contacts at AGFA, the German film company and photo lab operations group. We were able to purchase a used system for film processing, and a separate unit for printing. The timing was pretty good, and even though we were outlanders from down river, local Damariscotta folk eventually warmed to the convenience of an intown facility.

Phyllis Washington stuck her head in my classroom on the last day of school in 1975.

“Mitch,” she said. “Do you have any plans for this summer?” Phyllis and I may have had two conversations in all the years I taught at Montclair (New Jersey) High School.

Some may think this little corner of the paper too often mentions Southport subjects.

Guilty as charged. It's where I leave from and where I return to. In my travels, things show up. As good fortune would have it, my cameras ride shotgun almost everywhere I go. Good for me.

It's not every day that you get to break bread with someone who has lived 100 years.

On Sunday, I had the privilege, along with many wonderful and supportive local folk, of celebrating with our friend Lucille Machon. A splendid and remarkable birthday event for Lucy was encouraged and hosted by the Rigas family at The House of Pizza with probably 100, give or take, family members and friends in attendance.

Last year, almost to the day, the photograph above was recorded from the Boothbay Harbor side of the Southport bridge. Although we had a relatively limited snow season, it was chilly. Even the crows in this photo knew enough to take advantage of the less severe weather and possible offering from Craig Sproul's Linda Lee, which was heading back to home dock.

I hesitate to celebrate our relatively “open” winter. Seems I recall someone suggesting to me that one should not look a gift horse in the mouth. So, I will cautiously say that I am grateful for the reasonable lack of white tonnage here on the coast.

My grandmother made oatmeal with raisins in a double boiler, which she started the night before. Super creamy. Adding dark brown sugar and fresh whole milk from the local dairy to boot.

I loved going to stay with Grandma. It was always a holiday. But, oatmeal wasn't the only special on the menu.

I was doing some chainsaw work in the back field at home and thoughts of Cozy Harbor came into my mind. Not to worry; I was well beyond the set back from high tide — no need to call the Shore Patrol. When we get water in the back field, “Oliver's” restaurant will be selling submarine sandwiches.