Sometimes when you step into somebody's home there is an instant feeling of calm.

It was easy for me to sit down and relax with Jolly and Laura. In many ways I felt like I was visiting family. Odd, I guess. But, it was as if I had known these two folks all my life and I was just popping in to say hi. In truth, I had never been inside their house. I think it was the salt and pepper shakers that did it. And, maybe the fact the Jolly offered me a “Moxie” even before I sat down.

About ten years ago I was asked by the McWhan family (longtime summer residents) of Pratts Island Road on Southport, if I would be willing to do some family photos with them at their home. I had photographed with the family before and was pleased to be invited back. Nothing like reconnecting with families from years gone by. It’s always fun to meet new additions and catch up with everyone.

Millie Santiago was the ticket person for five years at the Boothbay Harbor Opera House. This involved ticket sales the night of an event as well as on line sales, personal drop-in sales at the House, and phone calls from happy campers. It’s a big job that can be demanding.

The ticket person is the up front contact and a big first Opera House impression.

Everyone knows West Harbor Pond. On the way to Southport, just beyond the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club and Oak Grove condominiums, it’s the beautiful stretch of water lined with trees and blanketed with open sky opposite the salt water cove of West Boothbay Harbor. One would never suspect any problems with such a beautiful place but ... 

When I was a kid, my sisters and folks and I would visit our grandparents (Mother's parents) in Springville, New York, in the western part of the state, a little village south of Buffalo. Grandma and Grampa had a small farm along Cattaraugus Creek with rich lowland soils perfect for gardening. Our Aunt Marge and Uncle Jim grew the most delicious vegetables. I can still remember the melons that would melt in your mouth.

My image volume of many film photography years has dwindled considerably with the introduction of intelligent cameras, photo phones and the internet. But recently I got a nice burst of retro enthusiasm. A sustaining breath of fresh air from long time devoted Maine lovers and extended families. 

If laughter is the best medicine I just got enough to open a pharmacy!

These two fellas tell some of the funniest stories I have ever heard. And to think that the reason for my visit was to chat about their wood business. We hardly even mentioned it.

During many Windjammer Days, Captain Mark Stover invites family and friends (and sometimes paying customers) to go out on his boat Redhook for a fun ride around the Harbor and out among the islands to watch the ships come in. 

Bev Jackson could never have foreseen the unforeseeable.

When Bev's daughter, Teri, from North Carolina called on her cell phone to say hi and asked what she was doing, Bev replied that she was sitting on her porch overlooking the lake, relaxing. She in turn asked Teri what she was doing and Teri said “I’m at the front door, could you let me in?” I don’t think Bev believed her but went to the

My father liked trains.

Where we lived in central Pennsylvania, trains were the life blood of our economy, pumping mountains of freight and moving thousands of people. The coal industry was completely dependent upon a massive network of tracks that stretched throughout the state and across the country.

Peter, Paul and Mary. Ronnie, Sally and Dickie. Similar rhythm, liked the beat, easy to dance to (“American Bandstand,” 1965)! Similar, but different. In some ways though, there is a similarity in the way both “trios” share their music.

At this year’s Opera House “Hometown Hootenanny” Ronnie, Sally and Dickie played “California Dreamin’” by the Mamas & the Papas and it was a perfect fit for our three local troubadours. You could feel the audience at the Opera House connect. It was lovely.

Erik Carlson doesn’t get out of the woods very often. He works in the woods. He lives in the woods, and he “woodn’t” have it any other way.

It’s interesting, what causes us to remember. Smells, I know are very powerful triggers. A sound, or a piece of music. The feel of a certain texture. Or, in my case, a robin.

Thursday is not a particularly special day of the week, unless of course, you work four 10-hour days and commute to Boothbay Harbor from Lincolnville Maine. In this case, Thursday is liberation day, especially if you’ve driven through the ice and snow of winter. But you didn’t have to drive from Lincolnville for last Thursday’s event at the Boothbay Harbor Opera House. You just had to climb some stairs.

In 1977, Horace Lee, with Ethelyn Giles riding shotgun, helped us buy our first home on upper Kimballtown Road, Barters Island. It was an old close knit neighborhood with lots of character.

 “and in this presence how much ‘elsewhere’ lurks,” Jenny Joseph, “BEACHED BOATS”

We have always been big fans of CBS “Sunday Morning,” especially during the Charles Kuralt years. One Sunday morning in the late ’80s, there was a segment with Liz Carpenter, press secretary for Lady Bird Johnson. In the interview, she shared her interests and mentioned a women's group that met regularly to share favorite passages from books and writers.

So, generally I try to arrange my Hannaford meetings for the produce section. It’s a little more spacious with good lighting and nice atmosphere. Friends seem to enjoy the setting and it is convenient to all public transportation.

Andrei Bazaiac was born in Stefanesti, Romania, in December of 1988, almost exactly one year before the revolution that ended Communist Ceausescu's crippling stranglehold on the country. From 1947 until 1989, the Romanian people lost properties and freedom creating rampant fear and distrust. It was a very disabling time.

We arrived at the main entrance of St. Andrews Village at 12:03 p.m. to pick up John Druce. We found him standing outside at the curb chatting with an attractive young lady, knowing that he had probably been there since 11:45 a.m. It’s a Marine thing.

My father, also a Marine, was of similar disposition — being late for anything meant time in the brig.

What a privilege to witness the release of two snowy owls on Fisherman's Island. One flew east and one went north. The east flyer landed on a roof top, looking around, maybe hoping to reunite with its partner. It was promptly greeted by dive bombing crows, but did seem to fend off the attack, as far as we could tell.