Last week we, and a variety of interested souls, had a lovely and unique visit at Southport Memorial Library. A diverse group from near and far had an opportunity to hear Dr. Clarice Yentsch chat about one of her most recent creations, "The Baycliff Saltwater Farm Family," a book about a historically significant and personal parcel of land situated on an inside stretch of the Sheepscot River across from the southern end of Indiantown Island. An accumulation of wonderful text accompanied by an exceptionally diverse collection of art, this book offers an original and historical glimpse into many lives and ways that celebrate place and people. It is a special recognition of how much the natural world offers and how our fleeting presence can reveal who we are and what we have become. It is a glimpse.

When our daughters were little people, we spent many fun times with family and friends at Barrett’s Park, a wonderful spit of land surrounded by Lobster Cove waters, sandwiched between Sprucewold, the road to Wall Point and greater Linekin Bay. It’s a public park with a private feel.

Long before I came to Maine, photography interested me. I didn’t know much about the process but enjoyed the adventure. It was a cool way for me to “focus," which was always a challenge due to some crossed wires in my brain. Looking through the tiny viewfinder helped me stay on subject without distraction, and keep an eye out for fun things. I started processing my own black and white films in, around or about 1965. “Magic in a box,” I used to call it. After high school and college I continued to photograph with no particular intention other than pure enjoyment.

Long before I came to Maine, photography interested me. I didn’t know much about the process but enjoyed the adventure. It was a cool way for me to “focus," which was always a challenge due to some crossed wires in my brain. Looking through the tiny viewfinder helped me stay on subject without distraction, and keep an eye out for fun things. I started processing my own black and white films in, around or about 1965. “Magic in a box,” I used to call it. After high school and college I continued to photograph with no particular intention other than pure enjoyment.

Danny Beal and I landed here in the Boothbay area at about the same time. I, a traveling Willberry from away, and Danny, a traveling show from the Jonesport-Beals area. It was the late ’70s and nobody much cared. I found Arthur Barlow and Dwight Plummer at Harbor Motors, and Danny found a community of wonderful encouraging supportive fans.

To mow or not to mow, that is the question!

It’s a toss up, but it’s hot and it’s dry. The grass is long and if I mow there will be a raking party for sure. But keeping the grass long in extended dry spells with high heat, I think, helps to protect the grass from going up in smoke. With an abundance of ledge and poor soil, it doesn’t take long for our grass to turn to straw. So, I have opted not to mow, just yet. Maybe after a little rain, which I hope comes soon, I can launch the John Deere for the much needed haircut.

Dog owners beware! Porcupines are back!

On another note: The past week or so, and perhaps even into much of this week, we will be experiencing some foggy weather. It’s all a part of easing into spring, I guess.

It was a magnificent Maine day for the Harbor community and guests, from land and by sea.

Wonderful bluebird sky, painterly puffy clouds, bright sunshine and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a Windjammer Days tradition. All aboard Captain Mark Stover’s Redhook historic vessel. Who could ask for more!

“Build it and they will come!” I think a movie baseball metaphor is appropriate for our annual big event here in the Boothbay region. Only, in our case, perhaps a slight modification of the phrase might be, “Sail it, and, weather permitting, we hope they will come!”

Every year at this time, there are big doings here in “River City.” Windjammer Days sort of officially marks the liftoff of the summer season as the Harbor fills with visiting guests, seasonal residents and, fingers crossed, sailing ships from near and far. Ultimately, however, the final determining factor lies with the great Mother of Nature. The weather really counts and, despite all plans, Mother has the final say.

In the late 80s, we had some concerns about my late mother-in-law. At that time she was living in New Jersey and Pennsylvania with friends and we were not able to have much first hand personal time together. A few things seemed to be popping up that made us consider moving her to Maine so we could be closer and keep a better eye on things. And, to boot, our daughters, Grammy’s granddaughters, were cute little peanuts and Grammy’s pride and joy. She missed them and us. It seemed like a good idea to be closer.