On any given day the Southport to Boothbay Harbor drive occurs. Almost always, at least one trip per day, sometimes many, seldom never.

It’s not a long journey, but it’s where all the supply stations reside — major postal service, Fed Ex and UPS drop offs, technology, specialty shops and dining facilities. It’s where we go for stuff, plain and simple.

Nat Porter, from Winchester, Massachusetts, had a place at the end of Kimballtown Road on Barters Island back when we bought our first home there in 1978. Horace Lee of First Federal Savings and Ethelyn Giles helped us with that transaction. Our house belonged to the Roberts family for many years. At the time, Almond Roberts and his family lived at the end of Kimballtown, right next to the Porter property. Their house was taken down.

Back in the late 1980s, maybe say ’87 or so, we were trying to do a little better with our fledgling publishing business, CONNECTIONS. We had a small assortment of postcards, note cards and posters, and I think my first book “WINTER,” at that time.

Tom Nickerson and Karen Calhoun Pinkham have been friends a long time.

When they were in school, Tom did an internship of sorts at Elm's garage and Karen worked at the Dairy Freeze, nearby in Boothbay. Tom said he and Steve Gaudette used to stop by on a weekend evening to see Karen and get a big milkshake container full of soft serve vanilla ice cream to which they added a detoxification concoction for good measure.

In these politically charged times, I know I am walking on eggshells. But, politics aside, I am remembering Mrs. Cowan, a very dear friend to us and our communities.

A holiday season never goes by without thinking of this very special person. We see, still, long after her passing, reminders of her presence. We share those memories with others, and still can laugh and tell stories about what it was like when Mrs. Cowan walked into a room. You just never knew!

Having the Ernestina-Morrissey (aka Effie M. Morrissey) and the Bowdoin side by side at our local shipyard is like having the Patriots and the Red Sox bunking in together at the Seagate Motel. The history of these vessels is almost too much to comprehend. Both ships have made multiple trips to the Arctic. Now, both are here being updated and restored, at the Boothbay Harbor Shipyard, extending their longevity and service.

I think November is kind of a weird month. It seems to arrive in a sort of stealth way, sneaking in through the back door with little notice and a few surprises. So far, this November has, true to form, settled in and fiddled about with all variety of annoying and pleasant weather and events. 

From my first visit to Monhegan in the mid ’70s, learning of the island’s “Trap Day” interested me. Such a special event. An entire island population working together to prepare for the opening day of lobstering season. It was a great idea. The waters surrounding Monhegan were rich with lobster at a time of year when the price would be high. The only thing was, “Trap Day” took place at the coldest time of the year, Jan. 1.

Mother wasn’t a saint but she hovered in that vicinity. Even if, in my early years, I misunderstood how to behave prior to her morning cup of black Maxwell House coffee and a Camel cigarette.

In wooden boat-building circles, the tradition of the “Whiskey plank” is cause for great celebration. And why not? It is a pinnacle event, a milestone — the placing of the final plank and the completion of a complicated and sophisticated process. It is a major benchmark and recognition of successful, long-term teamwork. The ship's hull is closed, fully renewed.

To bee or not to bee, that is the question.

The alien looking subjects in this week’s adventure are Steve and Cathy Berger. They are seriously wrapped up in protective gear as residents of their hives react to some minor disruptions. It was time to administer a protective application which would help prevent bee sickness.

If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, there's still a chance that it's not.

1987 seems like a long time ago. It probably is. But in 1987 Keith and Constance (pictured above) got married and I was their photographer at Our Lady Queen of Peace. They became Mr. and Mrs. Bodine. In the scheme of things, I suppose, 31 years isn't all that long ago, but a lot has happened in the years since Keith and Constance got married. 

’Tis the season of autumnal evenings' recall to my annual Cape Newagen happy place. Our sun in making its way back up the Sheepscot, the evening glow time of year for west facing vistas. Bright afternoons bring much appreciated warmth as wood fires puff and chug up cold stone flues. It is my favorite time of year. 

The flowers of summer are beginning to take their final lap around the stadium with sun change and chill. Folks are putting gardens to bed but Fall can produce some interesting gifts. 

CBS “Sunday Morning” celebrates its 40th season this year. They had a wonderful retrospective special on TV, showing lots of clips from their many years of programs. Happy to say, our good friend Marylou Teel was very instumental in organizing the show which took long hours of researching archives in addition to her usual generous work load producing pieces for the weekly show. Great job ML and associates.

I was working on my computer in the office when the curtain on a west facing window rustled in an unusual way. I noticed the movement but continued to work. Then it happened again, with gusto. The curtain stretched into the room and papers flew off my desk. When I went to the window to see what was going on — it was unusally dark and the trees were swirling in the wind. The clouds boiled out of the west toward the northeast following a track over Ebenecook Harbor, heading for Boothbay across the north end of Southport. It looked serious.

In 1969 I lost my summer job as a laborer for a local masonry contractor in Clearfield, Pennsylvania. My job was to mix mud for three masons, lug concrete blocks and break brick tongs while balancing on ladders and scaffolding.

“Up on the northwest shoreline is a small converted fish house which was built by Reuben Davis after he bought his land from the heirs of Josiah Jr. He fished from this building from 1884 until his untimely death in 1909 when he fell out of his skiff while coming in from his days work. No one knows exactly what happened, but they found his skiff drifting down at Green Point, and when they found him he was about 40 feet from his fish house standing in the water with his hands straight up. Evidently he had his boots on and probably could not swim. 

So I called Rena to see if she could come out and play.

When I called her number at the Dump, aka, The Boothbay Region Refuse Disposal District, I got a voice mail recorded message which said “Hi, this is Rena, I can't come out and play right now, and I can't take your call because the loader makes too much noise. Please leave a message and I will return your call after the shift.”