The cold has managed to get a lot of attention for many reasons, many of them not terrific. One item, however, that seems to be quite popular is the daily sea smoke performances that occur on every waterway along the coast and presumably offshore.

The shows have been quite magnificent as can be seen by the many posting on social media. One might have been said, back in the day, “People are really getting smoked up!”

Lonny Sisson painted many local scenes during his years as an artist in Boothbay Harbor. He and his family lived just off Bay Street on the East side. One of the views from his house overlooked Barrett’s Park and Linekin Bay. He could walk down over the hill, cross Lobster Cove Road, and paint until the cows came home.

Although this person is not Santa Claus, she is probably as well known, locally, as old Saint Nick, and way easier to reach by phone. She and her elves have led the way, hands down, in year-round gift production and far and away the most prolific gift producer in the region today. No one even comes close.

Tis the season of the earliest sunset and what better place to watch it happen than “Sunset Rock“on the shores of Sheepscot Bay?

But as an old and dear friend would have said, “That weren’t much.”

Quite honestly, it was rather anticlimactic.

I don’t really know a lot about food. For much of my life I ate because fuel is needed to run the engine. I was not particularly adventuresome. Growing up in the hills of central Pennsylvania and working hard physically required lots of calories. We were largely meat and potatoes folk ... with an occasional infusion of excessive ice cream!

Damariscotta is probably not in the target news market of our fine local newspaper, but we all seem to find our way to Reny’s sooner or later. So maybe this week's adventure could be given a pass and accepted as a joint venture column with no serious reader or management objections. Thank you for your patience.

A few years ago I had the wonderful opportunity to share some spaces with a group of interesting characters.

Through the kindness and generosity of local friends, and the patience of a small contingent of visiting snowy owls, I managed to make a few fun images.

Every now and then I will get a call or a note from someone that goes something like this: “Hi Mitch, in 1983 my family gathered at Spruce Point Inn in Boothbay Harbor for a 50th wedding anniversary. We hired you to photograph the event. My sister and I are putting together a family album and are hoping you can find a group photo you made during our wonderful celebration?”

Even before we moved to Southport in 2001, the Cape Newagen area was a well visited location for me.

Over the years, in all seasons, I have enjoyed the beauty of this idyllic little harbor — at sunrise and sunset, at high tide and low. The town landing pier is a great vantage for views that go from Ocean Point to Reid State Park and Popham. Damariscove island and lighthouses at Ram Island, the Cuckolds and Seguin Island, stand out, and on a clear day, who knows how far can be seen.

Harold Clifford played the piano during my Rotary tenure.

“How about a rousing chorus of ‘God Bless America,’ boys?” he would sing out. And off we’d go. Great stuff. A gang of men singing their hearts out. Yup, all men back in those days. And smoking was allowed. Generally after a dutifully prepared meal by Madame Durfee, the cigarettes lit and smoke filled the air.

Almost exactly two years ago this fall the image above found its way into my viewfinder shortly after departing Wiscasset airport, in a Cessna “172” puddle jumper. I had a good batch of aerial work to do and was waiting for tree color and fair weather.

Many will know of this bridge but maybe not this view.

It seems like every restaurant in the area has oysters on the menu. For a long time, in the Harbor at least, Ken Brown, seemed to be the only place in town that offered them, just inside the door to the restaurant, in a big iced filled display. They were hard to miss.

I think I probably overlooked them on purpose because I never quite developed a taste for the little gems. Something about the texture that gave me pause. Ken always offered them when we visited for dinner, but we politely declined. He may have felt a little annoyed that we wouldn’t try a few.

Marylouise Cowan, the late owner/publisher of the Boothbay Register, was a buddy of ours who we admired and enjoyed. I'd photograph a party for her now and then or maybe she would ask me to make a photo for the paper, but she rarely asked for a favor.

However, many years ago, when she was still firing on all cylinders, she called me, or maybe it was Judith Sutter, her assistant, who called. Marylouise needed a favor.

Heretofore unavailable results of Mitchell's Rorschach test have surfaced, and it's confirmed — massive inconsistencies, but an unwitting willingness to try.

Although this may come as a shock to some the above photo is a normal and recurring image. It's merely a view of the reflection of the Catholic Church, floating on the water near the Atlantic Edge pier.

If you were a bug on a blossom in somebody's beautiful flower garden, you'd probably be quite amazed to hear the chatter associated with these two ladies. No need for a defoliant or herbicide. The weeds just give up!

Not much chance that you'd find chemicals of any sort associated with Lisa or Trish. They are pretty natural ladies — and I mean that in a good way. Weeds come out by the roots and flowers and bushes get snipped off with razor sharp hand tools. Just stand back because you could be struck by flying objects.

We try to get out to Monhegan every year. It's one of our most favorite places (of the places we have seen) on the planet. But with schedules and obligations, we are not always able to make the crossing.

Sometimes, on short notice, there is a break in the action, and we just scramble and go. Such was the case this past weekend. With our eldest daughter Mae home from New York, we grabbed the chance. The only thing that could have messed us up was the weather. And it almost did.

Ron was filling a car tank from an inside pump on the outside island at the “Good ’N You,” on his cell phone while trying to tell me about this fella’s riding lawnmower with two flat tires. He pointed to the old red critter, a “Snap-on Wizard," tarnished red and listing hard to starboard next to a BMW, with an Audi just in front. Ron said the mower was towed into the station on a trailer because it couldn't be driven.

We lived on the same street as Shirley for more than 10 years.

Sherman Street is one of the Harbor’s hidden gems. It's a dead end street that goes up the hill from West Street, across from where Doc Andrews used to live. If you drove up Sherman Street, and could keep going, you would come out at the top center of the Fullerton Street loop. But you can’t.

Last week had a different feeling to it, sort of.

Things started out on a little different beat- shifting gears a bit. The pace knocked down a notch or two.

Everyone pretty much knows about seagulls. They are a quirky bunch. Can't ever quite predict their next move.

I will always recall the time we took some out of town visitors to what was then “Lobstermen's Co-op” on the East side of the harbor, for a wonderful picnic table meal outside on the pier overlooking the water. One of our favorite things to do with guests. We even got to enjoy a little break in the action, and become tourists.