Too Crunchy?

Last September Pam and I stayed at an incredible place called Loon Landing, on Quantabacook Lake in Searsmont, Maine. We loved it so much we’re going back there in six weeks. Anyway, in order to make the twenty minute drive from Searsmont to Camden you had to drive through a little village called Lincolnville Center. Last year, there was a beautiful new general store being built. Every time we drove passed it we would slow down and comment about how awesome the place was going to be when they finally finished it. Well, a couple of days ago we decided to pay it a visit to see how it turned out...

We were blown away. The place is stunning, the kind of general store that would make even the most urbane city slicker long for small town life.

Then we went inside...

Ok, I’ll just let Pam do the talking at this point...

As we entered the door there was a huge wine selection, followed by a huge display of essential oils and an assortment of crystals. Nothing in the store except organic. I saw a red pepper for seven dollars/lb.  They have a huge brick oven in the back for pizza, so that’s something. This store is way too crunchy for me!

In other news... the last two nights we have gone out to dinner. During a wild and crazy lightening storm, we had a hankering for pizza, so we went into Damariscotta to a sports bar type of place called The Penalty Box. 

The inside of the place is made to look like Fenway Park. A series of murals turn every wall into the view from a section of seating at the iconic old ballpark. Really cool. And the pizza was amazing!

Then, last night I marked something off my bucket list. For over ten years now, I have seen an advertisement in Down East Magazine for a place called King Eider’s Pub in Damariscotta. The picture in the ad made it look like the kind of place I would love. When we were seated I mentioned all of this to the manager of the place, telling him that I was a little nervous and hoping that I wouldn’t be disappointed. There was no need to worry. Although it was quite pricey, Pam’s seafood pot pie and my surf and turf were out of this world delicious. We were seated upstairs right next to what was once a working fireplace, which was now home to a cast iron pot of oyster shells...

But, the best part was the charm of the place...

From our table at the far right hand window upstairs, we could see the Damariscotta harbor in the distance. Enchanting.

Last but not least, it’s been a great reading vacation. Here are the five that I’ve finished so far. Actually, I still have a hundred pages or so to go on Chicago, since I just bought it in Camden two days ago. Eclectic selections, don't ya think?

Three more days here. Today is cloudy with storms expected so I have no idea what we will end up doing. But, we plan on making the most of the next 72 hours.

My Favorite Pictures

What follows are some of my favorite pictures from this vacation with a brief explanation of each one...

My view every morning around 6 o’clock. One day everything was bathed in a soft pink which even lit up the inside of the house. A wonderful show to wake up to.

Fishing hasn’t been as good this year, but occasionally even a blind squirrel digs up an acorn.

Pam and I got the bay window seat for breakfast at Crissy’s in Damariscotta.

Sunset in Damariscotta. 

 It seems like every village on the coast has one dominant Church with a clock tower steeple. This is the one in Damariscotta.

Here we all are gathered around Smokey. He’s the giant carved bear who stands at the entrance to Checkerberry Road, the winding dirt road directly off of Route 1 which leads to our cabin. If it weren’t for him we would have driven past our turn every time! By the way...look at all those relaxed, happy faces!

The newlyweds spent the first week of their honeymoon in California where they took a picture of their feet in the sand of a beach outside of San Francisco. So, they decided to take a second foot picture in the sand of Camden Harbor. 

Me and my boy.

Me and my girl.

There are many others. Maybe I’ll do a part two at some point. We have had a wonderful time, and the 500 plus pictures we have in our Chillin at Pemaquid Pond folder, while probably excessive, speaks to the wonder which is all around us here. The good and glorious news is that in less than six weeks...we’ll be back!!

Just The Two of Us

Our time together with our kids begins in many ways. But, this is how it always ends...

...my wife in a tearful embrace with them at an airport or in our driveway.

We had the privilege of spending the first week here with all of them. Then the second week we got to spend some time with just Kaitlin and Jon. Now, as of 6:45 this morning, it’s just the two of us for the last week. 

We love every second we get to spend with our kids. First of all, it’s rare. Since they both have moved away, we only get to see them for  around three weeks a year. But, this past two weeks has felt a little like what it must be like to run a Bed and Breakfast. We now appreciate what Pam’s parents went through all those summers at Dummer’s Beach. Now that they’re all gone...it’s awfully quiet in this big old house!

These next seven days we plan on doing whatever the heck we feel like doing, whenever the heck we feel like doing it. We will try to eat up as much of the food that’s in the fridge as we can before we leave. We will see a few more sights, eat out at a few more restaurants, and play some Rummikub. I will read a few more books, catch a few more fish, and take a few more afternoon naps. When it’s finally time to leave, I will be torn between wanting to stay, on the one hand, and wanting to hurry home...because I really miss Lucy. 

Kaitlin’s Response

For the first time in the eight year history of The Tempest, I have invited a guest blogger to this space. My daughter wanted an opportunity to respond to my allegations that she has not exactly been holding up her end of the bargain on this vacation. Below, please find her response. Make of it what you will.

I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming this evening to rebut my father’s claim that I am the Least Valuable Vacationer (LVV). 

Over these last two weeks, rather than lift myself out of hammocks by my own bootstraps, I have chosen to embrace my favorite new program: Affirmative Inaction. And in doing so, I believe I am benefiting everyone around me. For instance, when I ask my husband to fetch me a freezie pop from the kitchen so I can continue reclining on the sofa uninterrupted, I am offering him a chance to serve “the least of these”...a Christian’s highest calling. What a blessing! When I sweetly request, batting my eyelashes, that my father heat up my coffee in the microwave, am I not inviting him to practice biblical hospitality? I take my family’s sanctification very seriously.

My intention in rising from bed no earlier than 9:00 each morning is twofold: 1) to fill everyone’s morning with sweet anticipation of my awakening, and 2) to ensure that I am mentally and emotionally energized to serve as the vacation cheerleader. Without a full nine hours of sleep, for example, I most assuredly would not have clapped and cheered for Mom’s paddleboard yoga with as much enthusiasm. Likewise, I can’t very well compliment the aroma of her cooking if I am napping as she prepares it.

Philosophically, isn’t a vacation the one time of the year when one can cease striving to earn one’s “value”? And therefore, isn’t the vacationer heralded as “least valuable” actually the one most to be praised?

Finally, as the only Mary in a house full of Marthas, I must remind you of Jesus‘s words in Matthew: “So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many have been called, but few chosen.” Since I am continually the last of my family members to accomplish anything productive, I am clearly, according to Jesus, the chosen one.

Now, if you will all excuse me, I am late for my afternoon of languid lakeside lounging*. I really can’t miss that again.

Signing off, 

LVV

*Footnote: I have the tannest feet of anyone.

Cutting Edge Journalism

I literally cannot remember the last time I sat down with a physical newspaper in my hands, smelled the dried ink, and flipped through the flimsy newsprint. But yesterday, while having lunch at the 91 year old Moody’s Diner  (slogan: When I get hungry, I get Moody), I availed myself of the opportunity by picking up a copy of the Lincoln County News. The masthead informed me that it is the “only weekly newspaper locally owned, printed, and published in Lincoln County”..and has been for 143 years. While I fully understand the evolution of technology that has placed pressure on print media, and I also understand the struggles that have befallen newspapers all over the country as a result, it is my sincere belief that the Washington Post and The New York Times could learn a thing or two from the Lincoln County News. The entire front page contained not one scary headline and not a trace of hyperbole. Instead, the three front page stories that dominated the August 2, 2018 edition were:

1. Dresden Couple Transitions From Beef to Storage

Now, I don’t know about you, but this headline practically begs for an explanation. Who wouldn’t want to delve deeper to discover what on earth they could possibly be talking about? Is this some bizarre new twist on veganism? How does one eat storage? This question simply demands an answer. So I read. It turns out that Jeff and Linda Biden, of Eastern River Cattle Company have recently gotten out of the cattle business. However, the fine barn that previously housed the company’s herd will now be used to store vintage automobiles. This, despite the fact that the Eastern River Cattle Company had just won the prestigious Producer of the Year award from the Maine Beef Producers Association as recently as 2016! It seems that Jeff and Linda aren’t as young as they used to be, and the couple’s two children have shown no interest in taking over the family business. 

Now, had reporters from the New York Times been assigned to cover this story, the headline would probably have been something like...Heartless Globalist Capitalism Forces Dresden Couple Out of Business...or even better...Trump Tariffs Cause Generational Split in Local Family

2. Three Generations of Lilly Family Fight fires in Dresden

This story tells the heartwarming tail of a local man, Gotham Lilly, who at the tender age of 15, began volunteering at the local firehouse 62 years ago. The rest is history. Eventually, Lilly rose to captain, a position he held for 30 years. Along the way, nine members of his family, spanning three generations, have served at the firehouse...

Had this story been broken by a Washington Post reporter, the headline would have been...Nepotism Turnes Firestation Into Lilly Family Fifedom
3. Bristol Waitress Gets “Whole Life” Back With Return of Purse

McKinley Neuser, a 21 year old waitress at The Contented Soul in Bristol, had lost her purse containing last week’s paycheck, $600 in cash, after it disappeared from the basket of her scooter as she was on her way to work. The University of Arizona student, who has summered in Bristol her entire life, was devastated at this turn of events, since the $600 represented an entire month’s rent for her. Lucky for McKinley, local grocery store owner, Carl Reilly happened upon the purse while driving on Snowball Hill Road. He immediately pulled over, thinking it was clothing, only to discover that the purse, which doubles as Miss Neuser’s knitting bag, was stuffed full of cash. After a little detective work, Reilly figured out who the bag belonged to and headed over to The Contented Soul to reunite it with its owner. McKinley was overjoyed and grateful that she spends her summers working in such a great small town.

The New York Times take on this story?...Returned Purse of Bristol Waitress Highlights Need For Livng Wage

I spent much of yesterday afternoon reading every section of this marvelous paper. I marveled at the large headline and story about a local teacher who was appointed as Pre-K lead teacher at the YMCA, the feel good story of a church youth group who volunteered to paint the Pemaquid Point Lighthouse Park Fence, the irony of a 5K charity run to fight childhood obesity named the Boothbay Harbor Lobster Roll 5K!

God, how I love this place...

A Little Help Here....

I woke up this morning having no earthly idea what day it is. Not only do I not know what day of the month it is, there is confusion concerning which day of the week this happens to be. My first thought was that it felt a bit like a Wednesday. But, now I’m not sure. This is just one of the many delights of Maine.

This detachment from time takes a while to kick in. For me, it took longer this year for some reason. 2018 has been a Bear, for one thing. It began with an exploding dish washer, and was soon thereafter consumed with planning and paying for a wedding. So, maybe this year, the power of responsibility was more difficult to lay down. The force was strong with 2018! But, lay it down I have. I have finally reached the desired Maine vibe.

Today there’s the rickety scaffolding of a plan in place. We are planning on eating breakfast in Damariscotta at a place called Crissy’s...

Then, best that I can recall, we are headed into Rockland to visit the Breakwater Lighthouse...

That’s where it really gets fuzzy. I can’t remember if we are going into Camden late afternoon to take the walking tour which starts at the Library and ends at the Opera House, or if we’re just going to Riverducks for ice cream...or both. Or maybe we are climbing Mt. Battie this afternoon? 

It doesn’t matter really. 

I don’t even know what day it is!

The Magical Mystery of Monhegan Island

This blog will mostly be pictures because I think my words would be inadequate to describe Monhegan Island. We ate no lobster and there were no bicycles, largely because there were no paved roads anywhere. What was there? Plenty of artists standing around painting gorgeous pictures of the scenery. When our boat unloaded it’s 120 passengers, the population of this idyllic place tripled. 

We started our adventure with lunch at the Monhegan Inn...

Monhegan Island is only 12 miles away from the mainland, but feels like it’s 100 years back in time. 90% of the Island is untouched, except for the ribbons of trails, all on private property, which are maintained by a local association. We spent most of our time there meandering down those trails, led my Ranger Jon, who kept us, literally, on the straight and very narrow. In total, we meandered for nearly four miles on a delightful 70 degree day. Each trail ended up rewarding us with these types of views...

But, you didn’t need to go hiking to see beautiful things. The village itself was a beguiling mix of charm and fascination. Charm, for obvious reasons. Fascination for what it must be like to live in so wild, untamed and secluded a place...

Then, something truly magical happened. We were walking on a trail called  Cathedral Forest, when we began to notice these little home made miniature...houses(?) built every fifty feet or so along the path. First Kaitlin suggested that it was probably an assignment that the teacher of the one room school house had assigned her 8 students as some sort of object lesson. But as we made our way along the path, these structures became ever more elaborate and imaginative, to the point where it actually started to freak me out. Maybe there was some weirdo psychopath afoot and soon we would discover a severed doll’s head or something. But then we came upon a married couple and a couple of kids who were building there own little houses. It was then that we discovered this quaint island tradition where people... on this trail only...are encouraged to build houses for the fairies. The only rule is that nothing foreign can be brought into the woods. They must be constructed with natural materials found in the woods...

There must have been a hundred of these little creations, and their existence just added to the magical feel of the place. Although we were exhausted by the time our boat ride back to the mainland pulled away from the dock, we all felt like we had visited a truly enchanting place from a bygone era. 

Worth every penny.