I was all set with my “Register” adventure for this week and brewing my second cup of Vallejo coffee, produced by our friend Cris, of California. His coffee is terrific.

As my dollup of raw honey properly dissolved in the morning joe, I recalled, for some unknown reason, that I had been asked to refill the bird feeder. My coffee steeped. Opening the back door of the barn, with an open sack of some song bird mix in hand, I was surprised and delighted to see the new snow that had arrived during the night. The snow coated everything creating a fairyland effect. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds. Increasing temperature would bring melting quickly.

How many of you have ever wondered where the Boothbay Register (and Wiscasset Newspaper) comes from? That's what I thought.

For this week’s issue of the “Bob files,” I’ve decided to dig back into some of my more recent digital archives and share an image not often seen this time of year by many of us.

It was a big music weekend.

Our daughter and her husband traveled to New York City’s Radio City Music Hall for a “Khalid” concert. Not the Rockettes but according to Morgan and Andrei, a great show!

Bill Harris was one of the nicest persons I have known to walk the streets of Boothbay Harbor. Quite literally, he walked. As long as I knew Bill, he never drove a car. He may have told me why that was, but honestly, the reason escapes me. In some ways, I suspect, he didn't feel the need for a car. Just one more thing to bother with. Bill had plenty of things going on, with no lack of new ideas constantly bubbling up in his unique and creative mind. He was an institution at the Boothbay Register!

I had pretty much adjusted to what seemed to be our winter. My personal thermostat was set with steps taken to accept the inevitable. 

This time of year really stresses our heating systems.

Most of the year, those of us who heat with oil, never think twice about “The Furnace.”

It’s down there in the basement, or out there in the garage. Asleep, awaiting a call to duty that many of us have taken for granted.

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.