What Do We Do on Rainy Days?

The last couple of days have been very rainy with lots of fog and flood warnings flying about. The forecast is for more of the same until mid-week. Everyone around here says that its been like this for at least six weeks. So what are we doing? Yesterday was fairly typical for a rainy day.

We decided to head into Camden for breakfast at The Deli. Its nice when the owner of the place greets you by your first name despite the fact that he hasn’t seen you in seven months! The blueberry pancakes were sublime along with some delicious coffee…

Then we putzed around the damp streets for a while stopping in to some of our favorite stores. On our way back to the lake we stopped at Lincolnville General Store to pick up some coffee from our favorite Maine photographer, Dan Dishner, owner of Coffee on the Porch—Camden. The store is an absolute beauty.

But, it ain’t cheap. One pound of coffee cost me $16! Oh well. Its only money, then you die.

Right across the street from the General Store is a place called the Red Cottage. Since we drive through Lincolnville Center on our way into Camden, we have watched this place blossom from a run down shack to the loveliest little shop you’ve ever seen over the past four years. But we never stopped to check it out until yesterday.

The proprietor, Janis Kay and her husband saw potential in this shack several years ago and put in a bid to buy the place. They outbid a contractor who was planning to tear it down and build a new house. After four years of hard work and lots of sweat equity, the Red Cottage is a gem. Pam saw several things she just had to have, and we made a new friend.

For the rest of the day and night Pam worked on her latest cross-stitch project. I enjoyed a world class nap and nearly finished my first book of the trip, John Le Carre’s The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. When it was time for dinner Pam whipped up some tacos and a salad made from vegetables she picked up at a farm stand in Belmont. After dinner, courtesy of Roku and the wonders of technology, we settled down on the sofa with Miss Lucy to watch the Livestream of Hope’s worship service from yesterday morning. At that point the rain was coming down in torrents, slashing the metal roof above us and making a sound like none other. This morning we woke to 60 degrees.

I imagine that today will be much the same. Lots of reading, a little fishing with Lucy down on the dock. We might wander into Belfast later on. Or not.

Here

I was the first to spot the green bridge arching in the distance through the fog at one o’clock in the afternoon. But this was real fog, not the noxious Canadian smoke we had been driving through for two days. Pam took a photograph, like she does every single time we pass under the green iron rails of the Piscataqua river bridge. She says that crossing the bridge is when vacation starts. Once on the other side she busied herself with making a grocery list. She will want to make a quick run into the Belfast Hannaford before the Saturday crowd descends.

By the time we exited off 295 just before Augusta, the sun had come out. The sky was a radiant blue, the temperature an idyllic 74. Despite the sharp pain radiating through my left hip and hamstring—an unfortunate physical staple of post-60 long distance driving life—I felt my spirits soaring. We were less than an hour away. Lucy, as always, lay curled up in her space in the back of the car, oblivious to the glorious sunshine. Then, I made the turn onto New England Road, ten minutes away from the lake. Lucy stood up and began sniffing the air, big goofy smile on her face, staring out of the rear window, ears perked up expectantly. How could she know?

Its hard to explain the feeling that comes over us when we see the lake for the first time every year. Quantabacook can’t be seen from any State road, one of the few Maine lakes for which this is true. In fact you don’t even see it when you first pull off the dirt road into the driveway. You have to clear the overhanging trees first. But once you do, there it is, bathed in sunlight, the water glistening as if on fire. Dan the Man from Ducktrap Kayaks has delivered as promised. There are brand new Adirondack chairs on the dock. The girls at On The Water In Maine had dropped off the package that Pam had shipped to their office—something she had bought for the trip but worried would arrive at home after we had already left. They are used to this with us. One year Pam left her contact lenses at home. Another year it was all her bathing suits! We don’t even have to ask tell them anymore. “Hey, you guys have a package. We can bring it out there or you can pick it up the next time you’re in town.” Customer Service isn’t some strange and novel concept to OTWIM. Its how they roll.

I texted this photograph to Tif, the owner of OTWIM, upon our arrival. She replied with one of her own from her front yard on Owl’s Head, a forty minute drive down the road…

“ ohhh. You have sun!!” She said.

“Well, I specifically ordered it for my arrival,” I replied.

I woke up this morning at 5:20. I always wake so early up here. Pam is still asleep and Lucy has hardly acknowledged my presence…

Yes, we cover the sofas here with her favorite blankets, she being a creature of quite specific habits. Plus we don’t want her getting dog hairs all over the furniture. Summer Dreams is such a delight. Anyone lucky enough to own a place this lovely deserves to have it taken care of. If this place or Loon Landing ever come up for sale I would write a check so fast, Wells Fargo would have a hernia.

Last night we slept with the windows opened. Its foggy out and cool. The only sounds are the occasional loon call, a persistent chickadee and the pulsing bellow of a bullfrog at the water’s edge. I’ve finished my first cup of coffee. The fog seems to be lifting, the sky  brightening. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. 

“We’re Goin to Maine”

Its quite a lot like waking up on Christmas morning, only there aren’t any presents, just piles of stuff that needs to be organized, folded, stuffed and crammed into the back of a car. I still have several items on my checklist but make no mistake about it—this is the day.

Pam told me the story of how when she and Sharon were little, they slept in the same bed and on the night before they were to leave for Maine they would whisper to each other, “We’re goin’ to Maine…we’re goin’ to Maine.” Since Pam isn’t here this week I’ve been whispering it to Lucy. She knows.

I texted a friend who lives in Lincolnville, Maine yesterday and she said that she hoped we brought good weather with us. The entire month of June has featured gray fog and rain. The most recent 10 day forecast has just one day with a temperature above 80. However, it should be noted that a ten day weather forecast in Maine is about as worthless as a campaign promise. The weather will be whatever the hell it wants to be and there’s not a thing we can do about it.

So whether its this:

Or this:

It’s not going to matter. There will still be the call of the loons, blueberry pancakes at the deli, the comforting aroma of the Smiling Cow, lobster rolls at Hazel’s, and the stillness of Quantabacook at dawn.

Hiding In Plain Sight

This poem has been hanging in our guest bathroom for years. We found it in a shop in Camden. The text seemed a perfect representation of a place that we have grown to love deeply. But although I’ve glanced at this a hundred times I never noticed until today. The author’s middle and last name…Melcher Heart.

I’ll say!

I suppose the lesson is obvious. Pay closer attention to life. There are incredible things all around you hiding in plain sight.

A Responsible Adult?

It feels weird around here this morning. Just Lucy and me. Pam left yesterday for Hatteras Island with my extended family. I couldn’t go because I have too many things to get wrapped up at work before we leave for Maine on Thursday. If my dinner last night is any indication, I’m in big trouble. It consisted of a re-heated chicken breast I cooked on the grill Friday night and two fluffier-nutter burritos I just threw together last minute. I washed it all down with a glass of Arnold Palmer Lite half and half. 

Lucy is confused and disoriented. She had been on pins and needles over the last several days as Pam was packing for the beach trip as well as setting up her famous Maine staging area. Lucy isn’t a fan of disruption. She abhors nothing quite so much as turmoil in her house. The sudden appearance of piles of trip gear results in much harrumphing and heavy panting. So when Pam pulled away from the house yesterday in a fully packed vehicle without us, she was not happy. Luckily, I happened to have a nearly empty peanut butter jar at the ready. When I offered it to her, she gladly accepted then retreated up the stairs to her special peanut butter jar licking spot for half an hour, distracted and happy. For the rest of the day she just slumped around the house stopping at every window, looking perplexed.

I am not confused, but I too am disoriented. This is the second time this month that Pam and I have been apart, the first time a couple weekends ago when she drove down to Columbia to help Kaitlin set up her new classroom. And now this. I’m a big boy. I can handle living alone for a while. But that doesn’t mean I like it. What is it that the Bible says? It is not good for man to be alone. I agree. One of the last things she did before leaving was to give me a quick tutorial on how to run the dishwasher. Yes, I realize that sounds pathetic. My experience with that particular appliance is with the loading and unloading thereof. I can count on the one hand of a three fingered clown the number of times I have actually run the thing. So, there she was patiently walking me through the three step process. I kept saying, “I got it”, when in point of fact I will probably play it safe and wash dishes in the sink for the next 4 days. Pathetic.

Because we will be leaving for Maine in less than a week, I won’t be taking any undo chances while she is away. When I am alone and don’t have to explain to Pam my plans to run sixteen miles while wearing a weighted vest, I tend to push the envelope. Since if she were here the aforementioned run would be rejected out of hand, there is a certain freedom that comes with not needed to get her permission first. But Maine is T-Minus 4 days and counting. Now is not the time for free-wheeling asshattery. I have a 15 hour drive in my immediate future. Its time to act like an adult. 

That is not to say that I won’t slip away to walk nine holes of golf at some point, or head over to Wong’s for one or three cold beers and their spiciest tacos. The difference is that I will remember to stop by Publix to pick of a bottle of Pepcid on my way home….like a responsible adult.

The Countdown Has begun

The Dunnevant household is now official in countdown mode. We both have long to-do lists to navigate over the next 7 days. In all honesty, Pam’s list is longer than mine, even though she will spend most of next week at the beach with my family, while I get in a few more days of work at the office. Here’s the plan…

Pam heads to Hatteras on Saturday. Thursday morning of next week she drives back to Short Pump. When she arrives around noon, she will throw a load of laundry in the wash while unpacking and repacking the car. When the car is ready, we gather up Lucy and leave Short Pump somewhere around 4-ish and drive as far as we can without falling asleep, maybe as far as Scranton, Pa. Then Friday morning we hit the road early and hopefully arrive on the shores of Quantabacook around 4:00 in the afternoon. We pulled off a similar schedule a couple years ago so we know it can be done. I’m just hoping we don’t have a repeat of last year when after two days of driving I managed to throw my back out while unloading the car a mere thirty minutes after arrival!! The only one of us who will have zero difficulty surviving this two day trip will be Lucy. She will curl up in her cramped space and sleep 90% of the way, then bound out of the car fresh as a daisy when she says the lake. Pam and I don’t exactly bound out of anything these days. For us its more like we attempt to unfold our stiff and creaking bodies like rusty pocket knives, then spend ten minutes stretching trying to restore feeling to our extremities. But, its all worth it. Every sore muscle, every frayed nerve is simply a means to a marvelous end. After unloading the car and setting up the kitchen I’ll drive over to Fraternity General Store to pick up a pizza and say hello to Amanda. That night we will sleep like babies. When we wake up Saturday morning it will dawn on us that we are finally in Maine. Hopefully our first full day will be sunny and inviting. But if not that’s ok. We have six full weeks. The weather always sorts itself out. I hear the lake is high this year from all the spring rain. That means the fishing will be incredible. I also hear that there’s a new and improved boardwalk in Camden down by the harbor master’s shack. We’ll have to check that out on our first trip to town…

My Wonderful Fathers Day Weekend

My Father’s Day weekend featured a visit from these people. The two grownups on the left are my daughter and her husband while the two grownups on the right are their best friends from Columbia, Matt and Bailey Wolfer. The two boys belong to them, from left to right, Theo and Milo. A wonderful time was had by all. However, once they all left we both took long and disorienting naps, the kind where when you wake up you’re convinced that you have a paper due in the morning, despite the fact that you graduated from college over 40 years ago!

Its hard not to get the impression that you were considered a potential problem by all parties, when your wife hides your BB gun in the garage two hours before the arrival of our guests. Then once the Wolfer’s arrived, Bailey the Mom spends the first thirty minutes smiling nervously while giving you the side eye. What could my daughter possibly have told this poor child about her father? I thought I would break the ice by suggesting the educational opportunities that witnessing a squirrel murder or two might offer to the boys. Nervous smile firmly in place she says, “No, no. I’m sure the time and place for that will eventually come but this weekend is not either.” Or, words to that effect.

Despite having to overcome the clearly prejudiced houseguests, it wasn’t long before we were all having a blast. Friday night featured an opportunity to school young Matthew in the fine art of cooking meat on a Weber grill. Matt’s grill of choice apparently is something he literally picked up on the side of the road, so witnessing the miracle of fire harnessed for the Godly purpose of grilling hamburgers was quite the eye-opener. 

Saturday was jam packed with outdoor and indoor activities featuring loads of sugary treats. The boys soon embraced me warmly, despite all the negative pre-trip publicity…

Although, there was one unfortunate incident for which I was briefly placed in time out. Honestly, I don’t remember what the infraction was. No doubt, some trumped up charge.

When Saturday finally drew to a close it was my turn to read the bedtime story. I must confess that I loved every minute of this time, especially when I got to introduce little Theo to the world famous Mr. Doug’s Tickle Monster Adventure, a bedtime tradition my kids enjoyed for all of their formative years, which no doubt explains their superior development as fine human beings. Of course, my daughter couldn’t resist a mean-spirited MEME at my expense…

One of the sweetest moments was Sunday morning, after an amazing breakfast of chicken and waffles, after which I took the following photograph of Theo and Lucy in the back yard. When the boys were first introduced to Miss Lucy, they seemed a little scared of her. But like everyone else who meets our Pup, they eventually fall under her spell…

Everyone left just before noon on Sunday morning. The house is suddenly toy-free and as quiet as the grave. We all miss the energy and love that fills a house with the introduction of children. Matt and Bailey are amazing parents doing the hard work of raising children in today’s confusing world. Knowing that Kaitlin and Jon have their friendship makes the fact that live 6 hours away from us much more tolerable to accept.

One more thing—Matt is a graphic artist by trade and as such decided to put his skills to good use on our driveway…