What a wonderful stretch of days! The weather. The weather. The weather. It seemed so much better, too, because of constant wet and chilly. A welcomed change.

I first met Ella Beauregard at Hendricks Head Beach on Southport. I was enjoying low tide and making some photos when Ella came walking down from her house with a chicken under each arm. Ella and her parents, Mike Beauregard and Pam Pearce, lived in Ruth Gardner’s place, now better known as “the land for Southport’s future.”

I was “working out” on the riding lawnmower (where I do much of my “creative” thinking) the other day, and recalled how many times I thought it would be fun to do a picture book about the Browns, and browns, of Maine.

The Jacob Pike will be 70 years old this year, just like me. Happy birthday to us. But, unlike me, Robbie Begin, Linc Simmons and a crew headed by Tony Finnocchiaro, the Jacob Pike can be reconstructed. I'm afraid it would take more than a few new planks to help my career!

We headed over town from Southport around 8 o'clock in the evening Sunday, amazed by how much light there still was in the sky. We spend winters in our bunkhouse/barn on the property which is surrounded by trees. We sort of lose track of how the sun moves around now.

I’ve been trying to remember when I first met Rupe Neily, and I can’t. But, in one way or another, we have crossed paths many times over the years, initially through his father, Rupe, at Mainco Realty and the YMCA.

Nobody needs to be reminded of the importance of focus, especially anyone who toys with photographic instruments. It’s an obvious no brainer - if it’s not in focus, something went wrong. Although, I must admit, blurriness does seem to be trending.

Twenty five miles is not easily imagined. The Boston Marathon is just a smidge over 26 miles. If you were to drive from Boothbay Harbor, via Route 27 and Route One, to somewhere between Bath and Brunswick, that would be roughly 25 miles. There are 25 miles of lines, under our streets and beyond, serviced by the Boothbay Harbor Sewer District. Currently, so far as I know, sewerage is not being collected from beyond our region, though it is obviously being created.

Last week our younger daughter Morgan and I visited Cuba.

For many years I have been interested in the culture and ways of this country where much has been “on hold” since the 1950s. As many people know, I am most interested in the older version of things, especially as I become a bit of an older thing myself. Cuba was amazing!

It’s difficult to imagine anyone who knows more about where people live in the region than Ashley Brown Holloway. Which may have a lot to do with why she is the new Boothbay Harbor postmaster.

Ashley has worked in every area post office over the last 14 years and actually was the postmaster for East Boothbay. She was a good choice for the postal service and for us.

Ella and Kayla love their Papa. And Kevin feels the same way about his two charming granddaughters. They all piled in for this photo without a moment’s hesitation — well, some gentle encouragement, maybe. I mean, what child isn’t a little reluctant to give up recess time with schoolmates before lunch. I’m not sure what was on the menu, but it was a beautiful spring day with soccer balls and swings flying, woods’ exploring and just plain blowing off steam.

Anyone who thinks making “the real deal,” genuine maple syrup, is a simple matter should just buy some “Aunt Jemima” at their local grocery store and call it good.

As Don Imus once said, “I was born at night, but not last night.”

We had a wonderful weekend! The weather was spectacular. Clear, blue sunny skies. Cool, crisp breeze. And family.

We celebrated the 42nd anniversary of our lives together here in wonderful Maine. Our kiddos made it home, too. Megan bused in from New York City for an overnight and Morgan and Andrei zipped up from Portland between job travels and appointments. Kevin Kiley even stopped by.

Let me say right up front that I am not any kind of a bird expert. I enjoy watching them. I love to hear their voices. And, we feed them in the winter. I have even, in my youth, hunted them.

Growing up in the hills of central Pennsylvania, my best buddy and I used to hunt on our way to school — mostly for rabbits and the ever elusive, ruffed grouse. We were not very successful hunters. Grouse were particularly challenging and very elusive. They wait until you are practically on top of them until they launch out of the underbrush and scare the bejesus out of you. I have demolished many a hemlock tree in an attempt to gather myself and save face with a shotgun blast! They are crafty birds.

The next time you visit the Southport Town Hall don’t expect to see anyone dangling their legs over the railing of the newly recreated balcony. This photo opportunity was a special arrangement coordinated with final construction and the weekly selectman meeting. It is my good fortune to live down the road and arrive just before Mary Lou Koskela leapt into a net. Just kidding. 

As best I can tell, Alan Williams has never been far from an internal combustion engine. Exhaust fumes are part of his DNA. Every variety of vehicle imaginable has been tried out, driven, tuned or transported. From pickups to VW bugs, wheelers to motorcycles, scooters to ATVs, Alan has fiddled with it, repaired it, patched it, sold it or delivered it. The only thing I might be missing is an airplane at one of the locations he has worked, and it’s possible to imagine that he has one stashed somewhere. 

Now I'm going to show off a little of my new found nautical knowledge.

The “car,” as I have come to learn from my times photographing with the gang on the Ernestina-Morrissey and Bowdoin projects at Boothbay Harbor Shipyard, is the name of the device upon which a vessel “rides” as it is winched up a railway toward “the hard.”

Sometimes its a little challenging to gather information about people. I mean, good, clear important stuff that can be shared safely. It’s easy to slip up and generally likely that someone will manage to challenge what little I know, or innocently suggest, about many who live here in our wonderful corner of the world. 

In elementary school classrooms, we used wooden chairs that were fastened to the floor. On the back metal frame of the seat, a simple flat wooden board created the desktop for the next seat behind. The desk top had a small channel for pencils at the top and a hole for an ink well. In sixth grade we received penmanship instructions every day using a fountain pen. The “Palmer” method, as I recall. Otherwise known by me as “round-round ready write” madness!

I was hammer drilling a deeper hole for the sump pump in my wife’s mother’s house on West Street the other day, and it occurred to me that there must be a better way to make a living. I have put off that project for years but the recent perfect storm of deep cold and torrential rain enlightened me and also threatened the hot water heater and the furnace. With frozen ground, water runs fast down the back hill and floods into the basement . The sump pump didn't pump out enough, and some times the water rose too high. It doesn’t help that the sump is located in the remnants of an old cistern. Why wouldn’t the water collect there?