Friday, December 30, 2011

oops!



Though I had clothes on, I do feel like this girl after falling on some black ice after yoga class. What irony - when I had just successfully done 'tree' on my left foot, I fell on my right hand and broke the bottom of the radius bone as it meets the thumb joint. Just before Christmas!


I still drove to Vermont and had a wonderful time with 2/3 of my little family, plus others in the extending family. The snow was nice, not too much, and the Waterbury church was magical.


I am finding though, that I am very glad to have this year gone by. Lots of things ended this year - my underwater mortgage, Osama bin Laden's unfortunate life, the unfortunate war in Iraq, a good friend's life. Many good things happened, too, and I shall work hard tomorrow evening to be grateful for a new daughter -in -law, for connecting with cousins, new friends and adventures.


The rug I bought in Turkey arrived just yesterday, after drifting around the transportational netherworld. It made me realize that trust is a simple thing if you only give it a try.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Imaginary visions



Some of my best images have come from a passing glimpse of someone or thing. Others come from long, careful study. This image came from a boat and man glimpsed going out to sea at dusk from Monhegan. He had a beautiful dory workboat all fitted out, and the evening felt like it would be very profitable for him.


So I put this together, though the background really doesn't look like Monhegan. Sometimes you just have to make stuff up. It was important though, to get the boat and the guy driving it, right, or nearly so. I hope it is.


I'm going to do some more of these blogs, of my art work, as a way to explain some of it, and to spread it farther around. It is also a way to keep it in front of me. I've just sold some things; sometimes I am glad to be rid of stuff, and sometimes I want to be able to look at it - to remind myself that I really can produce some good, interesting work. I hope you'll enjoy this new focus.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

extreme plein air painting!



Though we aren't actually shivering here, we all ended up in McSeagull's Restaurant in the Harbor this noon, after trying to paint, draw and otherwise note scenes in the Harbor this morning in the rain/sleet/freezing rain. Probably we shouldn't have stayed as long as some did, but when else are you going to paint in December in Maine?

And the clam chowder was really good!

left to right: Bill Tomsa, Tony vanHasselt, Corinne McIntyre, Suzanne Brewer, Allen Bunker, and me.

Now, let it snow for some really good color!

Saturday, December 3, 2011

tis the beginning of the other season



The other season here in the greater Boothbay region is the holiday season. It is a time for those of us tough enough, or poor enough, or just stubborn enough to not go south when it finally gets cold. This year it hasn't been cold at all, until now, after Thanksgiving. Finally, it has gotten cold enough to matter - to buy the salt for the walkways, and to get out the hats and mittens.


Tonight, though, I had on the mittens and my Christmas coat for an annual ride on the Harbor Princess, at the tail end of the Lobster Boat Parade. Last year, I was too sick to go out. Two years ago, I went out but it was cold and snowing and was kind of miserable. This year, it was as wonderful as it could get.


There were 16 boats in the parade, all lit up and decorated. It is impossible to photograph it because it is so dark and the boats must be pretty far away, so you'll have to either come and see it for yourself, or imagine it. There was a boat with Rudolph on the bow, pulling Santa on top of the boat. There was a boat all outlined in blue lights with a red Rudolph on the top. There were two boats, one with a candy cane gateway into the cabin of the boat; there were two boats all lit up towing little dinghys lit up with Santa sitting in the stern. The Coast Guard boat was also done up with Santa aboard. I felt like I was a Babe in Toyland. Magic.


We went out as the sun was going down - hence the photo above of the sun sinking behind the pines on Juniper Point. The day is called Harbor Lights, when the Library tree is lit; Santa arrives by lobster boat. The shops and galleries are open until late, and most importantly, the Opera House is full of the Festival of Trees. Each year the Garden Club members, plus others like the Land Trust and the Botanical Gardens, decorate a fake tree of differing sizes, and they are put in the Opera House, which becomes a fairy land of beautiful trees. Martha Stewart has nothing over these trees. They are gorgeous.


Of course, the one I helped put together for the Land Trust, is one of the nicest. Carol, Stephanie, Pam and I had a wonderful time spending an inordinate amount of time and effort on a table top tree. It had pine cones treated with glaze and soap-snow, winterberries in tiny clusters tied with yarn, photos of different Preserves in the Land Trust mounted on foamcore and painted with gold paint, plus a wonderful cardinal in a winterberry nest on top of the tree. We are very proud of it, and hope someone buys it for a lot of money!


On a more mundane level, the Inter-Island News reported this week that lobsters talk. A research team at the University of New Hampshire has documented 50 different sounds that a lobster will make at the approach of a cod fish. Their conclusion was that the lobsters are "sounding off in order to discourage fish predation." I can only imagine what they say on the approach of a kettle full of hot water.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

back home in east boothbay



I am home again after nearly two weeks spent in the mid-east. It was a not very fortuitous trip, though stimulating and ultimately valuable trip. I was briefly ill with stomach trouble in Jerusalem and caught a bad cold in Turkey.






I went with a group of friends from the Congregational Church in Boothbay Harbor, first to Jerusalem for 4 days, then to Istanbul, Izmir and Ephesus in Turkey for 5 days. Jerusalem I found to be an armed camp, regardless of which side of the West Bank wall you are on, and regardless of what religion. Returning home, I read Moshe Dayan's widow's story in the New Yorker about the death of Israel, and I couldn't agree with her more. And from what we heard, there is very little hope that Israel and Palestine will resolve their differences peacably. The lack of hope was palpable. The one bit of spirituality I found was a bird singing outside the window of the Russian Orthodox Church in the Garden of Gethsemane.


In Istanbul, however, I found a thriving, growing city full of pride for what it has become. Although the current government is conservative and Muslim, the separation of church and state is written into its Constitution, and the pride of the people in Istanbul is tangible.


One of the major reasons for going on this trip, besides curiosity over the presence of any form of spirituality in Jerusalem, was the Hagia Sophia. Ever since Prof. John McAndrew cut up his oranges and grapefruits in front of us in Art 100, thus demonstrating the ability of a round arch to support other round arches and barrel vaults, and thus to build the Hagia Sophia in 533AD, I have wanted to experience that space. Even today, it is the 3rd largest dome in the world, though it is over 1500 years old. I don't know the others, probably football stadium domes, but this surely beats them in impressiveness. It was built as a Christian church; its apse faces east. Today it is a museum but it was a mosque for over 500 years, and the small enclosure where the Imam reads the Koran is in the apse, slightly off-center, facing Mecca. (see above right-hand photo)It is a happy enough arrangement, with some of the original Christian paintings being exposed, even as they are covered still by the beautiful mosaics of the Muslims.


Our later visit was to Izmir, or Smyrna, Tardis, and Ephesus. The layers of civilization to be found there are stunning, as is the current countryside, and food! The cabbages are literally nearly 3feet in diameter; the yogurt so creamy! It was too much for this poor body and I stumbled back onto the plane in Izmir and have been sleeping for 3 days now. Finally I am beginning to come out of my cold-induced stupor. When I remember more, I will write more!

Friday, November 4, 2011

out of Jerusalem




I am glad to be in Istanbul, and out of Jerusalem.

Friday, October 28, 2011

camels etc

I am off to the land beside the camels land - to Israel and then Turkey. I hope to be able to post photos and stories, but first the planes have to get out of the way of a big Northeaster barrelling down on the coast! We shall see what develops.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

A time to be born and a time to die...



A neighbor friend has died this past week. This summer she added a beautiful baby boy, Finn, to her repertoire of grandchildren; Jessie Marina Ullo was born just a few days before Chalmer died, too. So there are times when the population of our worlds turns over. Births come, and people go.

Inevitably, we search for the reasons why people go. Rarely do we find them, especially when they are the people that bring us together, that help us when we need help, that welcome us when we are new, that count for something positive in our world. As Clint says in the movie Unforgiven, " Deserves got nothing to do with it." It just happens, and we are left with the feeling, and the song, "Sometimes I feel like a motherless child."

Chalmer died of mesothelioma, a lung cancer that stems theoretically from exposure to asbestos. No one can pinpoint her exposure, but somewhere along the way something must have happened, and because she was sensitive to it, she acquired the cancer. It is a cruel one, and I am glad that I have not developed it.

We do not know what we will die from, before it happens, but we do know when babies are born. We celebrate birthdays, and we celebrate the people who leave us. We celebrate hope first, and then we celebrate the past. With the dying of the summer season, let us celebrate both the newborn babes, and Chalmer - who loved them.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Swimming?????!!!! in late September?

Grimes Cove at the end of Ocean Point in Boothbay looks nothing like Sand Beach in Acadia National Park. But I didn't go swimming at Sand Beach today, and I did swim on yes, September 25, 2011, at Grimes Cove. I planted tulips in my garden for my son's wedding next spring, and got soooooo hot, I just had to go swimming.

Not that it was a completely new idea for me. As I was driving around Ocean Point yesterday afternoon, I saw 4 floating heads - a la Mao in the Yellow River - and thought to myself that it might be nice to go for a swim. I quickly thought better of it though, as darkness was descending, and I was hungry. But today, after sweating through the planting of 75 tulip bulbs, it was a really GOOD idea, and off I went.

The four floating heads had the same idea, and the 5 of us went for a swim, out and around a buoy in the Cove. It wasn't a long swim, but the water was in the mid-high 60's, which is warm for around here, and as long as I held my hands out of the water occasionally - to thaw out - I was happy, and it felt really good. A crowd gathered to watch us, but no one else seemed willing to come in. Even a Golden Retriever didn't come in. Still, it was well worth the effort, and I'm quite proud of having done it.

Now the challenge will be the Polar Bear Swim on New Year's Day!

Monday, September 12, 2011

Gardens vs. Boats



Yes, that is a tomato next to a pumpkin. This summer has been an amazingly productive summer for the garden. And the tomatoes! They are large, or tiny, sweet and red, delicious and numerous. But really, I've had enough. My stomach hurt the other day for all the tomatoes and cucumbers I've been eating. I had to give up cukes and start pickling!


So I'm making a resolution to better balance my need to sail with my need to eat. Some might suggest, this resolution is a long time in coming, but I've only felt it now, and it's my body.


So, next summer, I vow to grow fewer tomatoes, cukes, and zucchini, more corn and onions and leeks, less lettuce and more arugula, less chard and fewer beets. This will be easy to do next year because a major part of the garden will be taken up with tulips for Dan's wedding on Memorial Day. So lots of things won't be planted until after tulip time, thus making the season shorter than it was this year and last. Time will tell.


In the meantime, I'm yanking up the zucchini plants, and tomato plants, and soon the cucumbers, after I get one more crop of mature ones for Nancy Bither's Bither Family Cucumber Relish from Houlton, Maine. The tulips will go in soon after, and hopefully be perfect - just in time for the wedding next spring! Maybe I'll get some late summer sails in now!

Friday, September 9, 2011

One Year Later, Ten Years Later




I'm tired of all the 9/11 talk and stories of firemen, and First Responders. I do not mean to deny their heroism, but there are other heroes, and heroines, in the aftermath of 9/11.




A year after 9/11, my son Ben and his wife Torrey had a six month old daughter, Sarah Kate. They were living in Denver then, having moved there after Ben graduated from medical school. Ben was doing his internship in the Emergency Room of Denver General.




On 9/11, Torrey was teaching 5th grade at PS 234, the elementary school next door to the World Trade Center. As happens in the first days of school after summer vacation, Torrey had the flu that day, and a substitute teacher took her class. Ben was doing a 6-week residency in Farmington, New Mexico, and driving to work when he heard about the planes flying into the Towers. He tried to call Torrey but couldn't reach her by cell phone or landline. So he called me, in California. He had to go to work; I could and did, spend the day trying to reach Torrey.




I finally found her at home, on the computer. She was OK and hadn't been at school that day.


But she spent the rest of that day and year, and really the last ten years, dealing with survivor's guilt. And she, like all the other teachers in PS234, dealt with the childrens' stories, their fears, their horrid memories of that day for the remainder of that year. The school, when it reopened two weeks later (?), opened in an old Catholic school, in the neighborhood. Three 5th grades had to meet in an old gymnasium. The class moved to a different place 3 times that year, trying to find a safe and secure place to meet.




Those children were ten years old then. Now they are twenty somethings. The memories that they wrote about that year, were the sights and sounds of the bodies falling from the sky as they were evacuated from their old school. And their relatives who died. I can't begin to understand the strength and courage that those teachers used to deal with the nightmarish lives of their kids that year. And the parents who were left.




The firemen who risked their futures working to clear debris and find remains are undoubtedly heroes. But so are the teachers, parents and children of PS234, who survived and have been dealing with the horrific memories of that day, for the last ten years. I hope they have found some measure of peace.


Monday, August 29, 2011

after Irene



Except for the empty marina, you'd never know that we had a hurricane yesterday. Irene screamed into new England, faded, and blew on up through Vermont. Here, on the coast of Maine, we had lots of wind, an inch of rain, and power outages. In Vermont, bridges are out, roads are washed out, and downtowns and homes destroyed. I never thought I'd hear the words, "The eye of hurricane is just now passing St. Johnsbury, Vermont." But I did, and Irene about drowned Vermont.


I am sorry about all that; I kind of wish we'd had some more drama as most of us were very prepared. Really though, I am happy for the sun, and the September - like weather, and hope another hurricane does not come this way soon.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

"and the restless wind.........."

These are the last boats to be hauled in advance of Irene, the hurricane of August 2011. For 3 straight days, the crew plus others at Ocean Pont Marina hauled boat after boat after boat. They barely slept, I think. But today when I went to look, there were a few big boats out on moorings, but the slips were empty - even the Boat US Towboat was gone.

They hauled Priscilla on the second day. She's comfortably up against one of the big sheds, safe and sound so far. The dinghy is turned over on the wharf, but is somewhat vulnerable to the storm surge expected tonight at high tide. I expect to sleep through it; it occurs at 11 pm. But it is a bit of a worry in that it is an astronomical tide - there is no moon at all now, and will be a 10.6' tide, higher than normal and a challenge to the Post Office, Lobsterman's Wharf, and the Marina. If there is a surge also, this far up the River, it could spell trouble for things at the above places - including dinghies turned over on the wharf.

So here I am in the middle of a hurricane. Actually EBB is on the eastern side Irene, hence we've not had as much rain as Vermont has had, or the rest of the Eastern Seaboard. But we have wind, and wind gusts of up to 75 mph. And we will have surf with wave heights of between 20-30', they say on the Weather Channel. Not good for people living closer to sea level than me, but dramatic if you don't live there. This afternoon, at dead low tide, it was pretty exciting but not close in. The rocks and the seaweed kept the water away. Tomorrow at high tide at noon, it should be quite dramatic.

"And they called the wind,"...Irene?????

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Altogether too much joy along with problems!



There's been altogether too much joy here in East Boothbay lately. Too many families coming together; too much wonderful weather; too many trips out to Monhegan to build fairy houses. But so be it. Take it in, breathe deeply, and enjoy. Even the garden threatens to take over.


My grandgirls came here, and then I went up to Vermont to see them again, plus all my boys and their Significant Others, for the first time in a long time. I had ex-in-laws for a visit which was good fun, too, and all my mother's family for a picnic. It's been too good.

So today, I took a friend down to Maine Med in Portland for an MRI because the local hospitals were too busy - not a good sign. There's no diagnosis yet, but she is relieved to have begun a diagnostic process.


And I heard a final story from the Shipyard Cup races. The largest yacht here, Christopher, at 154', has a keel draft of 9', but a centerboard which drops down to a draft of 31'. Thirty one feet is pretty much lowtide depth in much of Boothbay's harbors and coves, which Christopher found out. Apparently she grounded sometime during the race, was pulled off but could not get her board back up. So she had issues finding a place of rest and security. I haven't heard yet whether or not they got her board back up, and I've been speculating on how they could do it.

Divers? I'm sceptical.


I've been thinking that they should hire the crane that lifted one of the tugs finished by Washburn and Doughty after the fire in 2008. It was the crane that Howard Hughes had built to raise the Russian sub sunk off the coast of California, and is reputed to be the biggest in the world. On the other hand, the Navy is dredging the Kennebec as we write, in order to get a new destroyer out of Bath Iron Works with a draft of only 27'. So maybe they could get Christopher up the Kennebec to Bath, and raise her up on one of their giant cranes - to unstick the centerboard. Aah, the woes of boat ownership!


I will let you know what I find out. In the meantime, enjoy these last days of summer!



Sunday, August 14, 2011

what a difference a year makes!


















Last year, it was glory sailing. This year it is best not described. The big boats emerged out of the hazy fog, crept across the finish line and back into the Harbor. The air show at the end of the races helped, but yet I wish I'd been able to see some spinnakers flying. Still, the Shipyard Cup made everyone in Boothbay sit up, take a breather, and drive on out to the rocks on Ocean Point if they couldn't get a ride on a boat.


It's really been a grand and glorious few weeks. Priscilla's engine got fixed and I've had some great sails; the garden overfloweth; I picked a few blueberries from my canoe in New Hampshire again; and the grandaughters began a parade of family that still continues. Saturday, 27 people from my mother's family came for a picnic, and appeared to enjoy themselves! Babies and grandparents all. Perhaps the nicest thing of all, is that my son and his girlfriend have decided to get married!

I am quite pleased, knowing at the same time that I really have very little to do with it.


Despite the weather for this last day of the Shipyard Cup or perhaps because of the family picnics, this summer has been wonderful up here on the Coast of Maine. That makes it hard to think why Congress can't do what we elected them to do - reach reasonable compromise and make a decision in favor of the country and not their own reelection, when the possibility of spending time here in Maine during a beautiful summer hangs in front of them! let's hope the stock market thinks of this possibility also, this coming week!

Sunday, July 24, 2011

What goes up, must come down

Several years ago, when I lived in Paris, I spent three days in Oslo, Norway. Most of that time, I spent at the Naval Museum area, where I could explore boats that were used to explore New England long before it was called New England. Thor Heyerdahls' Kon Tiki was also there. I was quite pleased that I could find my way around Oslo quite safely without speaking a word of Norwegian.
My naivete has been shattered with the bombing and then the massacre of the youth, in Norway yesterday, on an island which looks a lot like the image of Oslo here. The psychic break with reality that people can talk themselves into, which allows them to commit such crimes, is unbelievable to me. But it hasn't been so long since it happened here - Gabby Gifford's shooting most recently.

Still I have always thought of Norway as different. Perhaps because my uncle, Streeter Bass, was one of the skiers airlifted into Norway during World War II, who managed to sink the ferry carrying "heavy water" to Germany. That water would have allowed the Germans to develop an atomic bomb. The skiers were airlifted into northern Norway, and then, miraculously and only with help from the Norwegian Resistance, they were rescued by submarine after the ferry sinking.

The Norwegian criminal who committed these crimes has betrayed the Norwegians who survived that war, who lived to create the vital, multicultural community that Norway is today.

That is not the only tragedy of the moment though. Priscilla's engine has blown a gasket of some sort, and the Marina is so busy that no one has been able to look at it yet - after a week.
It has been superb sailing, too, and for the first time, I am thinking that if she were on a mooring, I could still sail her. But she's not; she's in a slip. I am quite frustrated by this, and by the rule that you can't bring in an outside mechanic into the Marina. I'm not sure whether this is part of the territoriality of fishermen, or what. But it is completely frustrating, and puts me in the position of nag as I try and get Brian, the mechanic, to hurry up on the other boat that has broken down.

In the scheme of things, I cannot help but feel frustrated - except that it dwarfs in comparison to Norway's sorrow. For now, I will put aside my simple frustration, and hope and pray that some sort of justice is brought to bear on the horribly warped man who created the tragedy in Norway.

Monday, July 11, 2011

glory days of summer

Though Priscilla looks nothing like this big, there have been several glorious sailing days of late - including today. Summer so far has been a total delight, except for the spider mites on my nasturtiums. But there has to be at least one or two problems or we humans lose our touch at solving problems.

I can't think why DC is having such trouble putting aside election issues when so much is at stake economically. Do they not realize how dangerous is the game they are playing??? You cannot be a leader of this country and be rigid. Presidents and Members of Congress and the Senate all represent All of us people, and there must be give and take on both sides.


Have they forgotten when the budget was last balanced? It is within their memories - all of them. It was at the tail end of Bill Clinton's second term - before 9/11, Iraq and Afghanistan, before George Bush's tax cuts for the rich. The budget was in balance for the first time since World War 2. How is it too much to ask that those tax cuts be rescinded, that we leave two countries on the opposite side of the world, and where we finally accomplished revenge for 9/11.


I see people making less than $100,000, now struggling to hold on to homes, jobs. I rarely see people making over that limit struggling. It cannot be that rescinding those tax cuts will hurt many people, and it would provide some economic justice! As Nancy Reagan said the opposite way: "Just do it," DC!

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Summer guests and the weather



Last weekend I had the second batch of company this summer. As are so many of my friends this year, they came to celebrate a 65th birthday! They were also sailors hoping to get a ride on Priscilla, my 30' sloop. As it does from time to time, the weather did not cooperate. In fact, it was really miserable and cold, in the 50's and raining hard. So instead of sailing about in balmy breezes, we ate oysters at Lobsterman's Wharf, drank Cold River vodka - a new Maine vodka made with Maine potatoes, and lobsters cooked right at home.


On Sunday morning, though, we had to buy newspapers at the General Store - along with their delicious muffins and breakfast pizza! So home came the Boston Globe, the New York Times plus the Portland Sunday Telegram - enough newspapers to keep all 5 of us college-educated people entertained for a morning. I went straight for the NYT magazine, and managed to get it first. I was after the Letters to the Editor, and I found what I was looking for.


Two weeks ago, the NYT magazine had published a story on the Erie Canal in their Voyages issue. The story was written by a woman whose friend had made a small, flatbottomed dinghy which the two of them intended to paddle(????) along the Erie Canal. The photo was unforgettably pathetic. So I wrote a letter complaining, explaining that 20 years ago, my 11 year old son and ex-husband, and another family with two boys spent 10 days on two 20' motor boats going down Lake Champlain,

through the Champlain Canal which links the Lake to the Hudson River,

down the Hudson River to Troy, NY,

up the "Mohawk Stairs", locks which take you from the River up to the Erie Canal,

out the Erie Canal which is over 400 miles long (not some dinghy trip!),

through Lake Oneida,

up the Oswego Canal to Lake Ontario,

across that Lake and down through the Thousand Islands of the St. Lawrence River,

through the St. Lawrence Seaway into Montreal,

on down the St. Lawrence to the mouth of the Richelieu River which drains Lake Champlain, and back up the River to home. It was 700 fabulous miles of modest excitement.


The Canals of the early 19th century are still for the most part, viable, especially in Canada, and are great fun to travel on. Who knew that you could circumnavigate the Adirondacks? These remnants of long ago travel deserved more than a pathetic attempt at boating on a 5 mile stretch of the 400 plus miles of the Erie. So I wrote my letter of complaint, and the NYT edited it, and published it, which of course, pleased me immensely. I hope it challenges more travel on the old canals.


Then George and Fred went after the crossword puzzle and finished it on their way home!

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Windjammers Day 2



Rain held off until late in the evening of Day 2 of Windjammers in Boothbay, so the parade with the Land Trust float seen here, stayed together and did not fall apart. For the past two weeks, Dick Palmer, Debbie Moorefield and myself worked to build this float, and were we ever proud!


Called "Take a Hike", we entered it in the Green category using all recycled or "green" materials, including foam from the YMCA Pool Building project (the osprey, and the fish), foam from dock building (the rocks), and an old dinghy filled with used lobster traps, a kiosk from one of the Land Trusts' sites, etc. We did buy stuffed baby osprey just for the pleasure of having them and now we each have recycled them into our homes. The nest we built with driftwood and sticks from Debbie's collection, tying it together with old lobster line.


It's always a bit anticlimatic after such an effort, but the parade was one of the biggest I've ever been in, and as such was great fun - lots of music and small Shriner cars zooming around, etc. No politicians were in this one which was just as well. That would have reminded me too powerfully of all the parades I used to do with my boys and their father. But it was fun, even knowing that the end of the parade is always every "man" for themselves, and getting home is a trick to get around the rest of the parade.


Summer has officially begun now, and guests are arriving now. I can't wait!

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

windjammers day one

They came this year on a brisk NW wind; between 12 and 3pm they passed Damariscove and Fisherman's Islands, and sailed on in to Linekin Bay. They were having just a lot of fun, it was clear. Though I've had to use a photo from last year - this year I was too busy sailing myself -, this photo gives you an idea of what they look like.
In the meantime, Priscilla got all decked out with flags borrowed from the Marina (thanks, Dan), and we sailed a bit and motored a bit over to the Harbor to be in the Antique Boat Parade. Priscilla was launched in 1965, so we were the 5th or 6th boat, depending on whether or not you counted the lobster boat that horned its way in front of us in the parade. It was a nice clean boat so I didn't mind, but he was not Us. And there were about 15 legit boats in the parade - lots of beautiful launches, and two sailboats actually sailing!!!!

For a time I thought the two Boothbay Harbor One Designs were just harassing the parade, but then discovered that one of them had two friends on her and she was an official part of the parade. I was a bit chagrinned as I had been swearing (silently) at them throughout, but I am extremely proud of them now, to know that they actually sailed all the way through the parade!

Hooray for you, Patty Berger and Nancy Adams!

Afterwards, we had a gorgeous sail to Fisherman's Passage when the wind died and we motored the rest of the way home. It was idyllic. Summer has begun!




Wednesday, June 1, 2011

May vanished

May vanished into grayness, even as the traps and buoys waited on the shore in Lobster Cove. My birthday is in May, and I can remember planning and hoping as a young girl, that I could have an outdoor birthday party at someplace like Sand Beach in Acadia Nat'l Park. But it never happened when I was a child and it certainly didn't happen again this year. Not until the last day of May did we see spring time temperatures, even as approaching thunderstorms threatened to cool us off again.


But today is another month, and hopefully another start to spring and summer. Windjammer Days are coming, and that means all sorts of things to do. Priscilla will go in the Antique Boat Parade again this year, with Jack and Holly and others as crew. Then on Wednesday, the Land Trust will sponsor a boatbuilding tent for kids, and a float in the parade which will be pretty special. We're building an osprey nest on a boat trailer, and will fill it with stuffed baby ospreys. A child will wear an osprey costume and fly around the float - catching fish???? or distributing them, I'm not sure yet.


Traps and buoys are finally beginning to accumulate in the River, though Priscilla is hardly ready for a cruise yet. Other boats are, and I went for my first row yesterday- just out around the shipyards, but it was a lovely feeling to be floating and moving around on the water again. If only the temperature will remain above 60, I will be happy to get going on the water.


The garden remains in a bit of limbo, growing like mad, but because it's been so chill, it has been discouraging to try and weed. So I've mulched the tomatoes and lettuces, peas and cucumbers, but not the corn, and I don't have straw yet for the asparagus. Still, the first asparagus was really tasty, and the rhubarb terrific. Perhaps this weekend it'll warm up again so that people will want to weed!


The General Store opened in the middle of May, and all the town is glad to have them back. Lobsterman's Wharf is open now, too, usurping the Post Office as the place to be.

Most of us are dying to know how the new Bigelow Lab is coming along, but a big gate keeps us locals away for the moment - except if you know where the back trail is, or if you can get out on the water. But for the moment, we leave them alone. Windjammer Days are coming, and there's a lot to do.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

spring is sprung

Easter brought spring to East Boothbay. Suddenly the thermometer has broken the 60 degree mark, much to everyone's relief. People are beginning to flood the roads into town; Sugarloaf-stickered cars are beginning to reappear; lobster boats are filling up with traps; yards are emptying of traps and buoys; daffodils are popping up.

My church was filled to the brim today. My neighbor down the road, with mesothelioma, read the lesson - a real victory for her, but I didn't make it to the fog-rise service at 5:30am. The sun did not come out until about 9, and I decided to wait for the sun.

I dug up the last of the wintered-over parsnips and carrots, fed the rhododendrons, and began to make garden to-do lists. I've been varnishing the oars to the dinghy lately, but that project's about done. Things are gearing up for "the season," like the lobster boats. I guess I'd better, too.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

A Terrible Fuss

I wish I could post a photo here, of the mural that has been creating a terrible fuss here in Maine over the past two weeks. But I can't seem to get one off the newspapers or online media and onto my blog, so we'll have to do without. The gist of the matter is this though: A few years ago, Judy Taylor of Tremont created a mural in 11 panels depicting a history of the labor movement in Maine. It hung in the State Labor Department these past few years with nary a protest or really much comment.

However, a few weeks ago, our Governor allegedly got an anonymous letter complaining that the mural was anti-business and should be taken down. So our Governor took it down surreptitiously over a weekend without any warning or hearing. It has been in hiding ever since.

It has been my experience with murals that once one has been removed from sight, they fall largely into the domain of maintenance or security personnel. Some of them know how to care for a work of art; many do not. Once, when a large and valuable mural was in the process of being stolen from Stilwell Hall on the old Fort Ord in Marina, CA, the MP's who chased off the thieves, took the mural and stuffed it into a janitor's closet in the Police Station, where it remained for the better part of three months. The public assumed that it was being taken care of because the thieves had been chased off.

After about three months, I began to wonder where the mural was. A search was launched with the Commandante of the Fort helping, and lo and behold, the mural was found rolled up and standing in the janitors' closet in an old wooden barracks. Paint had been chipped off and it was in danger of being mildewed. It took nearly $50,000 and six months to restore that mural, which had been painted by Vinegar Joe Stilwell's daughter in a Chinese manner, and was 8' high and 11' long. It hangs now in a lobby at Cal State University Monterey Bay, very near where it hung originally.

Public Art is rarely "high" art. Public mural art usually tells a story; it is a visual narrative that communicates stories with images instead of words. Often, we do not understand what the story is, or how important it has become to us, until it is taken away. Often also, we never get the story back. The WPA murals in Stilwell Hall at Fort Ord were saved with the unlikely cooperation between the US Army and Cal State University. The State of Maine could use some unlikely cooperation now - between Governor Lepage and the rest of us who would like to read the story in Judy Taylor's murals once again. And then, let's move on!

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Heading Home


Once upon a time, I lived here in California, near Monterey. It still feels like home in many ways; I have great and loving friends, work to do, and I love the landscape, weather and flowers. But my 'people' are in New England for the most part, and it is time to go home - though it is still freezing at night, in East Boothbay.
When the father of my children decided many years ago to pursue careers which located him, and then us, outside of New England, I understood what a grand adventure life might be. I thought it would be good for my 3 boys to see and participate in a larger world, and that it would be exciting for me. It was all of that and more. We travelled the world; the boys were educated as well as is possible these days. I started and then stopped more projects than most people ever get to even begin, and for the most part, I loved it.
But when the marriage fell apart, I was caught in Paris, France, and had few resources with which to deal. I have never felt more isolated, and trapped. I knew I had to get home, and for me, that has always been Maine. It took me 3 years - 6 months in Paris, two and a half years
in Pacific Grove, California, and now I'm finally living back home in Maine. It feels good even though spring never comes soon enough, and it feels even better when I can get to California again each winter.
Home has been a lot of places for me: Orono, Maine, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Montpelier and then Middlesex, Vermont, Arlington, Virginia, Marina, California, Paris, France, Pacific Grove,
California, and now East Boothbay, Maine. I am a little bit urban, and a lot country. I loved all those places for very different reasons. I may get too old and decrepit to stay in my current house in Maine, and have to move near some family - a very nice concept I think. But Maine will forever be my geographic anchor, and I'm quite happy to be heading home again - even if I have to leave California.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Tsunami!

It was 4:20 in the morning when friends called from Cambridge to let me know, here in California, that I was about to experience a tsunami. It wasn't, however, until 5:50am that I got the first of two reverse 911 calls, saying that there was a tsunami coming and if I was in the zone, I should go immediately to higher ground. I'm not in the zone, but the second call was more relevant: at 7:15, a second reverse 911 call came that said that the State had decided to close all the beaches in Monterey County, and that we should not try to access the shoreline at all.
Perspectives on tsunamis here on the West Coast are considerably different than on the East Coast. I do not ever remember, in all my months and years on the East Coast ever being told I was in a tsunami zone, or ever seeing a sign such as I used to see in Pacific Grove, that I was then in a tsunami zone. But the threat is real here, and is ever present. The same kind of subduction zone that caused the earthquake in Japan, exists off the northern coast of California, Oregon and Washington. It is a not-so-theoretical possibility that something like what happened in Japan, could happen here. Especially as we consider the "Ring of Fire". With one devastating earthquake in New Zealand in February, another in Japan in March, where might the next one be?
News organizations out here are quite specific now, that they are letting us know what's happening so that we may be prepared. But they also say, quite specifically, that they are not trying to "scare" us. What? What is this news if not scary, that the Japanese still do not have control of the 3 reactors in Fukushima? Authorities are saying that after a meltdown, it will take 10-14 days for radiation to reach the West Coast, and by then it will have dissipated in the wind
to a level that will be tolerable. Really. It brings all those things to mind, like well, I've lived a good life. If God wants me now, he will have me. There's not a great deal I can do about things. and Que sera, sera.
The situation has caused some conversation about the difference in people's behaviour on the East and West Coasts. It has been generally conceded out here, that people in the East are better at knowing their neighbors on an ongoing basis, than people on the west coast. But that when a big one happens, people on the west coast are better prepared. This shows up in interesting ways in the budgets of non-profits and governmental agencies. Back East, we really worked hard on the school boards, United way agencies, and other boards that I have experienced, to balance the budgets fairly precisely each year. Here on the West coast, those same sort of agencies always have a "reserve" of 3-6 months, left in their accounts, or generally set aside for just such things as tsunamis.
I think it is in the way of the weather in both places. The seasons back East demand that people be always at a relatively low level of preparedness, whether it be for hurricanes or blizzards or torrential rains. Out here, the weather is usually not the problem. Devastating earthquakes, tsunamis and radiation from far away places are the problem - less frequent, but more disruptive. So we people adapt to our situations, and organize ourselves accordingly. Let's hope those reserves are not necessary at least while I'm still in California!

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Being Away


The advantage of being away for March, from Maine to California, is that you get to witness spring twice. Here at the entrance to my tiny cottage, the Japanese maple is leafing out right by the door. Not that I wouldn't like to see the 2 1/2 feet of snow that my granddaughters just got in Vermont, but I'd really rather see the leaves coming out and the orchids blooming - at least for now.
The other advantage is that time slows down. There are fewer things to do out here - no spring cleaning to be done, no snow to shovel, no Boards and committees to attend. I find my own agenda each day, and somehow I get more done. Life is simpler, and for me, that helps sort out what's important versus what is simply time-filling activity.
For instance, I've been reading poetry this week. When I first arrived, I bought Barbara Kingsolver's book, 'Lacuna,' and read it and really enjoyed it. Then I found a first edition of Jack London's 'Valley of the Moon' for $5.00 in a little shop in Bodega Bay, and read that. Sonoma is the Modoc (Native) name for Valley of the Moon, and I am always pleased to know the meaning of the names of places I love. Then I rediscovered Willa Cather's 'Death Comes for the Archbishop.' and read that. Now, I'm reconnoitering a collection of Robinson Jeffers' poetry.
Jeffers' house and tower are about 8 blocks from my cottage. They are right on the edge of Carmel Point and overlook the Bay. He lived and wrote here in the first half of the 20th century, and his works reflect the dark history of that era. I'm finding they resound at the beginning of this century, too. He likens the cities crowding along the coast of California to a purse seine gathering in sardines, flashing in the light as they leap for freedom and are restrained: "...we have built the great cities; now there is no escape."
But rarely is all lost in his work. There are glimmers of how to behave justly, act kindly. I found one line this morning, in a poem called "The Great Sunset." The last line of the poem, in which he turns from the "glowing west" to the "cold twilight," he says, "To be truth-bound, the neutral detested by all the dreaming factions, is my errand here." I can think of no better description of how a life should be lived, than to seek truth, to balance judgement, and act compassionately. A great thing to be reminded of, when we have time to slow down, and read poetry.

Friday, February 25, 2011

getting away

After all the snow we had in East Boothbay, perfect for X-C skiing and snowshoeing even on West Harbor Lake, - it was time for me to "get away." So I've come back to California, to my part of California anyway, for a month. I get to rent a place from friends in Carmel, a cozy cottage with a gas fireplace for when it rains, which it is doing right now. It is even supposed to snow here tonight. Oh, well. It won't last long, and it does turn the hills electric green. In Vermont, we called this kind of snow, "Poor Man's Manure."
The news from East Boothbay, though, is not so good. A good friend and neighbor has inoperable cancer, and will be returning home from Boston before I get back. She was hoping to read the lessons on Easter Sunday this year. I hope she makes it.
"Getting away" is what we do in Maine in winter. Some go south as "snowbirds;" I like to go West although we have no name for this yet. Even those who stay, and they are a rugged and tough bunch who make a good deal of fun of us who get away, get away to friends' and neighbors' houses more in the winter than in the summer. There is work to be done in the summer, less in winter, and people see more of each other in January than in June.
I do not mean to run away from all my new friends by "getting away," I am instead running back to my old friends, just for a month, to an old life which was fulfilling and happy, too. I work at Point Lobos State Park, doing history walks, and paint with great old friends and artists. I go to an annual scholarship auction at Cal State Monterey Bay. I visit and walk along the beaches here.
It reminds me of old times, happy times, and gives me a larger perspective on my new home in Maine. Hopefully when I get back, the snow will be gone and the forsythia will start blooming. Although I am not counting on it. I was counting on no snow in Carmel and here it is.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Getting Fleeced

There will be no photo here even though it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon on January 9th. I had been promised, by mailed invitation and 2 follow-up phone calls, two tickets to Orlando, Florida, or maybe an SUV, all for just showing up at a timeshare presentation. So off I went to the Tradewinds Motel in Rockland at precisely 1:45 pm. I was there on time and in place, and I wish I hadn't been.

I was ushered into a large room where a woman came and began speaking with me about travel plans, showed me the timeshare space in the Motel, and talked about divorce, a subject about which I am still not entirely rational. After agreeing to take what I thought was information about their offer, and signing many pieces of paper, I left. I had no tickets to Orlando, nor a car.

ON getting home, I put the packet of papers on the pile with the tax stuff and the refinancing material from my other mortgage. It was a large pile, not entirely well-organized. I then went off to a ski weekend in New Hampshire with some women friends, came home, shovelled snow, and then went off to Boston to see friends. On Sunday, January 23, I was going through the pile of papers, and found the Tradewinds stuff. Oops.

I started going through the papers to see what it was all about, found a paper that said, ' sign here if you don't want us to resell your personal information.' I decided that I really did need to look at the stuff if they had a 'do not sell form', and started looking through it for something that looked like a description that I could understand. I found one form with a Notice To The Purchaser at the bottom. It said,
" Buyer's right to cancel: You may cancel this contract within ten calendar days following the date of execution of this contract or the receipt of the public offering statement of Tradewinds on the Bay Vacation Club, whichever is later."

I rustled through all the papers and found no "Public Offering Statement," and thought I was home free. I wrote out a letter asking to cancel the contract on the basis of not having found a Public Offering Statement, and packed up all the paperwork I could find, and shipped it back to Tradwinds. They received it on January 26th.

On January 27th, I got a call from Stephen Cobb at Tradewinds. He tried to talk me out of rescinding the contract, but I wouldn't budge. He made a phone appointment with me for 10am the following morning, with Joseph Hart(?), who was not so amenable. He accused me of lying, of being foolish, and of looking really stupid in a court of law. He was yelling by the time I gave up and asked him what to do to get rid of the property. He sent me to a man called Edward Magee at Resort Solutions in Williamsburg, Virginia. Edward offered to sell my property for a $199 fee and no closing costs. I said I had to think about it. By then, I was completely confused about what I had done, or not done, and very confused about what to do next.

I went to the Consumer Protection site on the web and found Maine's consumer mediation site. I filled out forms; they returned with an email asking for more information, and I responded with what I had. I still am confused, but now am quite angry. When I looked at my credit card statement today, I discovered that not only had they taken their money from my credit card on January 20th, but this Sunday, on January 30, they had again tried to get my deposit from my credit card, and then tried to rescind that transaction.

I remain confused as I still don't have any record of what I signed, having sent all the paperwork back to them. Nor do I know what may or may not happen next. I filed the complaint with the consumer mediation service. We shall see what happens next.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Glory Snow

It snowed gloriously last week. I enjoyed this first 'snow day' in a year enormously. Then for this Martin Luther King weekend, I went off to Waterville Valley in New Hampshire with a bunch of women for a winter ski weekend.
It may seem a bit off, to go off with some women friends for an MLK weekend, particularly to New Hampshire where the weekend is called 'Civil Rights' weekend, and especially after the events in Tucson on the prior weekend. But I am neither unhappy nor feeling guilty about it.
I am not unhappy because the joy I felt in finding my ski legs again, is not to be replaced. I have not skied for over 10 years, and I was a bit worried about skiing downhill. The possibilities of breaking things is higher than in CrossCountry(I felt), and I could ski right out the door on XC skiis. But it IS like riding a bicycle; I put on my newish XC skiis and glided right on down to the Village Market in Waterville Valley. It felt terribly good, and was a great workout!

I skied the next day, too, with the women I was staying with and we covered a series of trails. The snow was as perfect as it gets for XC skiing - on two inches of fresh powder on slightly packed trails. Glorious!

Not the sands of Tucson - which was on everyone's mind still.

I cannot understand the inability of us as a people to do something about the availability of multiple shot weaponry, whether we talk about automatics, semiautomatics, or multi-bulleted magazines. When my ex-husband took a stand in Congress against semi-automatic weapons, and then was defeated in his reelection, some hunter friends who understood the problem created a bumper-sticker, " Real Vermonters Only Need One Shot."

People in rural places need to be able to hunt, often to feed their families. People in suburban and urban areas are only shooting other people. So why should we provide them with easy access to semi-automatic weapons? It is something that I will never understand, and I used to be a member of the NRA as a Girl Scout camper!

Unlike the shooter in Tucson, us women this MLK weekend thought a lot about staying in the present, and living life to the fullest - for ourselves so that we may serve others. Feeling the glory of great snow under skiis replenished my soul this weekend, and I do not think Martin Luther King would begrudge me that pleasure every now and then, when the snow is glorious.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Home again!


I made it home to Maine yesterday, after 3 whole weeks away and who knows how many miles travelled by air, sea and car.It was worth every sun-poisoned blister, and every penny. But what did I learn? It was after all, a Semester at Sea voyage sponsored by the University of Virginia.

I learned that I could live in a tiny space for 3 weeks as long as I could get out of it during the day; I learned how to live with a 90-year old in that same space - albeit a very spry and "with-it" 90 year old. And I learned a great deal about the places we went, and I met a goodly number of new friends, some from Maine in the Road/Scholar program of Elderhostel, lots from California, one in the same position as I am vis a vis dating again at 60,from Oklahoma, and one, a British Ambassador to Unesco.

The stated goals of Unesco, the Paris base of the UN, are called the Millenium Goals, the education portion of which intends to raise literacy standards in the under-developed world. At each stop along our way through Meso-america, we were treated most proudly to a discussion of the literacy levels of Guatemala, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama. At least it was usually given proudly. There were some differences though that reflect each country's approach to its minorities, usually the Maya.

Mayan history is a proud one; they were after all the dominant culture in southern Maxico, the Yucatan, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, and their cities were larger than Paris before 1500. They had calendars and science, religion and trade. But they shrank dramatically just before the Conquistadors arrived, and no one is sure why or how. The Conquistadors finished them off. It is interesting to speculate whether the disintegration and disappearance of multitudes of Native American communities in New England at the same time, is related.

Today, however, the Maya are the dominant sub-culture in all of the Meso-american countries except for Panama,and they hold onto - or try to - their own traditions and culture. Guatemala approaches them quite differently than the other countries do. In all the other countries, there is required school attendance through the equivalent of our 8th or 9th grades. Literacy rates are fairly high and improving because of that. In Guatemala, the Maya are forgiven for not going to school if they wish. They are allowed to apprentice their children to the trades of their fathers and mothers, and you will see children doing all kinds of things with their father or mother. Often it is selling crafts.

Their crafts are by far the most dramatic and well-done. Their fabrics are more diverse, their patterns more dramatic, and their colors are unbelievably vivid.
Possibly that is because the cocchineal bug, which produces the red dye that is used throughout the world, and was the cause of many a battle between Spain and England, lives there in Meso-america. It is a whole interesting story in itself, the story of the search for the red color that the Conquistadors found and sent back to Europe as treasure. Another time.

I do not mean to suggest that education is not necessary. The Maya that I bought things from were generally very literate, as wellas bi-lingual, and Spanish Guatemalans can be accused of being paternalistic in some sense. But it was an interesting divergence in social pattern, with unique consequences. And it does reflect how deeply the Millenium Goals are affecting development there. My conclusion is that while NYC's UN is mostly the theatre of the big powers, even the G-20, that for the smaller, less developed countries, the efforts of Unesco in Paris remain significant and are the theatre where their voices can most easily be heard. After you subtract the 20 economically large countries of the world, you are still left with 172 (I think). So sticking with Unesco seems to me to be a good thing for the US to do. I hope we do.

The other Unesco presence in Meso-america are the World Heritage sites, protecting in general Mayan ruins: Chitzen Itsa, Coba, Tulum, El Cedral, Quirigua, and in Nicaragua, Viejo Leon, which is not Mayan. Viejo Leon is a ruin of one of the earliest Spanish towns, built on top of a Mayan town and destroyed soon after its building by a huge earthquake. It is located in the shadow of several volcanoes, on the banks of Lake Managua, and is protected in its half-uncovered state by Unesco's World Heritage site program. New Leon is nearby, but Unesco's protection has made Old Leon into a lovely park.

I really did learn a lot, saw a lot, heard a lot and will continue to sort through memories and dig out the good stuff for story-telling. In the meantime, I've got to make some chowder again, before the next snow storm comes!