Our Life in a Box

Well, it's happening. The packers were here yesterday. The movers are here as I write. It's weird seeing your things carried away, one at a time, by tattooed men. It's like a circus here.

We culled. We gave away. We threw away. We donated. We threw more away. We moved more on freecycle.org -- and on, and on, and on. We're on a first-name basis with the guy who manages the transfer station/recycling center. And nine more cartons of brand-new books to my favorite school in Nashua.

Is this worth 60 cents a pound to be packed, transported, unpacked? Probably not. Toss it.

It's just stuff, right?

The house is echoey now -- O.K., I've never written that word before - not sure how to spell it.

The last time this room was so empty was when we moved in here 28 years ago. It was early September. I still remember how loud that single cricket was when we slept in sleeping bags on the living room floor awaiting the arrival of the moving van.

Sure hope it doesn't take as long to unpack as it took them to pack it all. Yikes.

Textures

Last week, before Al left to close up our home in NH, we decided to take a short walk through the woods. We followed the trail along Long Pond, one of our favorite places to kayak. It was very, very quiet -- in fact we only saw two other people (in a canoe) during the whole hour+ we were on the trail.

The contrasting textures pulled me along the trail as we explored . . .



smooth water and rocks,





velvety moss,



delicate, colorful leaves with pinked edges,







gurgling, miniature waterfalls,




spiny, crackly twigs,










feathery cedar,

rough, leathery fungi,








a frantic thoroughfare of tiny fish (look carefully),






a busy spider on its lacy web,



striated rocks disguised as clam shells, and





a rooted pathway that took me back to childhood
and the way to Nanny and Pop-pop's.





And all the while, colors of fall called to us from across the pond.

C.R.A.S.H. --- oh, no!

O.K. So I'm a goofball. At least I didn't get hurt.

So, this afternoon I was getting ready to conduct another telephone interview (for my job -- I'm doing some really fascinating national research) and I decided to make myself a cup of tea. So I turned on the burner to heat the teapot and went into my office.

At my computer. Getting my transcript template ready. Name the file. Get my print-out of the interview protocol set on the table. Check for the phone number I need to call.

BOOM!

Teapot. Stove. Wrong. Burner. No whistle. Pyrex. Casserole. Exploded.

I jump out of my chair and run to the kitchen. Holy. Hot. Glass. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.

Just that moment, literally about 2 seconds after the explosion, the phone rang. It was my boss. I didn't get to even think about cleaning up until after my 4 PM phone interview. And all the while, I could hear the crinkling of cooling hot glass. Yikes.

After the interview, I tiptoed into the kitchen and started scoping out my clean-up task. Whew. When I say it was EVERYWHERE, I really mean it!

On the stove, on the burners, in the burners.
Under the stove.
Between the stove and the counter.
INSIDE the stove (that was the weirdest! Can you figure out how it got there?).
On the dining room floor.
Under the edges of every kitchen cabinet.
Behind the pie safe.

I grabbed the broom and started sweeping. Or should I say, I tried to sweep up the broken glass. It wouldn't move -- the glass had melted into the floor and onto the counter.

And so I kicked the bigger pieces with the toe of my shoe. After repeated attempts, I was able to loosen some of it. Eventually, I had a pretty big pile of glass. Actually, two piles.

And I vacuumed up the shards of glass that I could see.

Later, as I started pulling myself together to make dinner, I found glass in some new, unexpected places.

In the downstairs bathroom! (the prize for the farthest!)

Inside the stacked mixing bowls on the rolling cart (the funniest)

Jeesh. I really liked that casserole dish, too.

I'm going to be finding teeny tiny bits of glass for days. . . no bare feet here.

And I'm thinking we're going to need to think about a new kitchen floor. Sooner than later.
Hmmm. . .

Note to self: NO more "air drying" of anything on the stovetop. Check, double-check, triple-check that you're turning on the RIGHT burner. Jeesh.

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

My two favorite bloggers have reminded me this week of the importance of simple joys and big dreams.

Simple joys for me include frequent e-mail exchanges with those I love and care about deeply, a long-long-distance phone call (hurrah for unlimited long distance!) from our daughter and her husband in British Columbia, a text message on my telephone
sometimes even with a picture of our grandsons, caller I.D. (yippee, it's Lee!), the sweet anticipation of a trip to Corning, snuggling with Dean, sharing books and field trips galore with Graham, visits from family and friends, and when distance separates, a web-cam visit with any/all of the above loved ones.

And then there are the very, very simple joys and they're often some of the sweetest -- getting up early when the house is quiet, a full pot of steaming coffee, a good book, classical music playing sweet and low, finding a piece of smooth glass at Seawall, spotting a heron in the still water, rughooking around a table with my best friends, beautiful yarn, the promise of beautiful patterns waiting to be knit up, hand-dyed wool waiting to be hooked into a rug, kayaking on quiet water, the view from a mountaintop in Acadia, singing in a choir that makes a glorious sound altogether, making a new friend, camping near a babbling brook in the woods, fog rolling in across the harbor, a new roll of stamps, and mail in our P.O. box.

Yup, simple.


The big dreams --- that's a taller order for me. Should I be dreaming at age 55? Sure. I dream of travel --New Zealand, the Canadian Rockies (of course, we'll be heading to Vancouver, BC!), the Canadian maritimes, Newfoundland and Labrador, and many places in Europe. I dream of learning to spin wool again. And maybe playing the hammered dulcimer or my harp again.


I dream of growing old with the man I love, Al.








I dream of reconciliation -- oh, wait!
That's a dream come true already!


And it occurs to me that we all have very different dreams. My dreams aren't the same as yours, and you certainly have dreams that I don't ponder either.

But that's O.K. Want a cup of hot coffee?

Ike, Ike, Bo, Bike...

I've never lived anywhere where I felt compelled to exercise out-of-doors. Until now.

On Monday afternoon, after putting in a nearly-full-day of work (I started my workday really early), Al and I hung our bikes on the back of the car and off we went into the park. We hadn't ridden our bikes in at least a couple of weeks; we were long overdue. And, thanks to Hurricane Ike, it felt like (it should have in) early August --- quite warm, clear, and abundant sunshine. And breezes. Lots and lots of breezes. Apparently other northerly parts of our state were experiencing Ike's rain and other inclement yuck, but we were very lucky! You see, we haven't had all THAT much sun and blue sky this summer --- so Monday was just a plum. A lucky break. A bonus day to celebrate my recent weight loss efforts (still losing, still losing) on my trusty bike on the beautiful, recently-repaired carriage roads of Acadia National Park.

Hurricane Hanna hadn't been nearly as kind to us. She dumped 7-1/2 inches of rain in ONE night! We had road washouts all over the island, and Acadia NP took it in the chin with about $300,000 of damage, mostly on the carriage roads. The crews have been out for more than a week, rebuilding closed roads, and doing the final dressing to make Rockefeller's roads beautiful and inviting for the fall tours.

We parked our car at the Eagle Lake parking lot, a favorite starting place for cyclists. You see, you can start from this one spot and ride in either direction onto miles and miles of the park. We opted to take a northerly route; we hadn't ridden by Witches' Hole or Paradise Point yet this year.

Our first stop was here. Just magnificent. And the lily pads were like little silver-golden mirrors. I fully expected to see a little frog peering into one of the miniature magical mirrors, perhaps checking that all of its wart were in place.


As we continued on up the hilly carriage road, I looked up catch a glimpse of not one, but TWO pileated woodpeckers flying from one side of the road to the other. Have you ever seen one? They're HUGE and they look like this -- yup, just like Woody Woodpecker. I remember seeing one years ago with my sister, Lee, when she visited us in NH. These birds are huge...about 18 inches...and LOUD when they drill holes in trees with their long beak. You can often hear them deep in the woods but they can be hard to spot. Another bonus.

We rode on a bit farther and saw this. Now, tell me. Wouldn't you pedal up a hill for a few minutes, challenging yourself NOT to stop until you reach the summit, to see this? I never get tired of seeing the bright blue sky against the bright blue ocean framed by tall pines. Ah. Can't help but take a big, deep breath.





So, just as we're hopping back on our bikes, Al spots this little guy. Cute, huh? He was having some kind of encounter with an acorn -- we couldn't tell if he was trying to push it out of the way or just work his way around it. It's amazing how brave I can be when there's a big ol' bike between me and one of these slithering passers-by. Actually, I set my bike up on its kickstand and tiptoed closer to get this picture. So brave.



Just then. . . I quietly spotted this.

Whoa! Psss, Al! HEY, AL!

Look! It's a . . . a . . . RED LEAF!!

Yup. It's comin' --- Fall. In case you didn't know, Al loves the summer -- it's his favorite season by far. The hotter and more oppressive the better in Al's world. Now me? I'm a FALL girl! I'm ALL about the cool mornings, the crisp, clean air, and have never been able to decide which color leaves are my favorite -- I love them ALL!



We pedaled on, coasted, and before long, we had the chance to compare two incredible architectural feats -- First this one . . . yup, made by those little guys with the big flat tails and long front teeth.




But then, just another mile or so down the road, we saw one of these. Wow. Mr. Rockefeller sure had some vision.

I can't help but gaze upon these beautiful granite bridges and dreamily wonder about those
who wandered on these carriage roads decades ago. Maybe a young woman with a wide-brimmed straw hat and a parasol?

Or maybe a handsome young man pedaling on his bike.

Maybe like this fellow.

Gee, he looks familiar . . .

Hey! Snap out of it!

It's time to push on into Bar Harbor to visit our favorite spot --- that blueberry basil sorbet is calling my name! RACE YA!

A Season for the Birds

I've become an avid birdwatcher over the last few years. I don't remember how or exactly when I first became hooked on the webcams sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, but the website is some of the most compelling viewing I've ever experienced. Another favorite site is Project Puffin and the Seabird Restoration project. The "Puffin Watch" -- a remote webcam on Seal Island National Wildlife Refuge during the summer months -- provides exquisite views of the doll-baby birds.

This year on the webcams, I've witnessed egg-laying, incubation (by both mamas and papas), hatching, brooding, incredibly rapid growth of hatchlings, and finally, the fledging of the young'uns. We've watched gorgeous barn owls in TX and CA, wood ducks in several states, Northern cardinals in NY, and seabirds on the coast of Alaska. Hands down, it beats any Academy Award movie or Emmy-winning television show I've ever seen! Did you know that ducklings fledge within 24 hours of hatching? Talk about a "leap of faith!" It's a privilege to witness nature at work.

Last January, Al built me two nesting boxes for my garden and put a webcam in one of them. He hooked it up with a long cable to our television. We were able to witness, firsthand (well, nearly!), the Chickadee family. The drama of Mama C incubating those eggs and watching them hatch (complete with sound!) was incredible. Seven little hatchlings sprouted pinfeathers within a few days. And did YOU know that a Mama bird keeps the nest impeccable by removing a fecal sac from the hatchlings one at a time from the nest all day? I was a bit horrified the first time I saw it, but came to understand quickly (thanks, Anne!) that it's nature's "disposable diaper" system and it works great! It keeps the hatchlings safer from predators when the nest is kept shiny clean. The little ones fledged while we were away -- while heartwarming, it was a little sad to return home to an empty nest.

We keep our seed feeders out all year. When we moved to Maine, we set up several tube feeders as well as two hummingbird feeders. It's such fun to get up early in the morning and see as many as four or five different kinds of birds vying for a primo spot on the feeder; we regularly see mourning doves, blue jays, chickadees, juncos, goldfinches, house finches, and titmice. The jays and mourning doves have huge appetites and are pretty successful at pushing away the smaller birds, but at day's end, everyone seems to have his his/her fill.

Mt. Desert Island is a great spot to see birds of all kinds. When we kayak in nearby ponds, lakes, and estuaries, our feathered friends (including osprey, eagles, loon, herons, cormorants, and egrets) often greet us (or surprise us!). There are several wildlife sanctuaries in the area that we'll visit this fall and winter. Our shiny snowshoes will take us into the quiet woods. Can't wait . . .

Time to feed the birds! Hope you'll consider joining (it's free!) the Cornell webcam system and visiting the Puffins. We can all learn so much from the birds.

Five days was just too short!

One of the best parts of our adult lives is the opportunity to grow in relationship with our siblings--as adults. I'm blessed with three terrific sisters and a wonderful brother. Richard, and his wife, Carol, recently came from Maryland to spend five days with us in Maine as part of their two week Maine vacation. They hope to retire here in the not-too-distant future (or sooner, we hope!). We thoroughly enjoyed our time together but it was MUCH too short.


We planned our week's activities through a series of e-mails and phone calls earlier in the summer. I'm a firm believer in "the anticipation" being every bit as an important part as the vacation experience itself. Richard and I talked about going fishing together; I encouraged Carol to bring some watercolor supplies (she's a very talented artist!). Al and I had made reservations several months ago for a special kayak outing --- we hoped Richard and Carol would be willing to join us! AND THEY WERE!


The kayak journey on Northeast Creek, the largest estuary on Mt. Desert Island, was offered by the Maine Coast Heritage Trust. We knew it would be a somewhat ambitious paddle for all of us --nearly 3 hours in all--but the promise of the tranquility was just too enticing. The Creek was just amazing --- much of it lined with wild cranberries (we'll be going back soon to harvest some) and otter slides.

The weather began a bit sunnier than predicted. We paddled back into the estuary about two miles --- but the dark clouds moved in, and on our way back out, the skies opened up! None of us could remember ever being so wet while clothed, but it sure made for some great laughs and some fast, fast paddling.



Another day, we (barely!) made it to the Blue Hill Outlook on Cadillac Mountain for sunset. And, just like clockwork, all the tourists started applauding just as the sun finished setting. It was a great time to catch some special pictures so that we wouldn't forget our week together. (Sorry the photo is kinda dark.)


Later in the week, our outing to Schoodic Point was idyllic --- the chance to spend a warm, sunny day in the splendor of this most SPECIAL part of Acadia National Park is always a special treat!

We took a drive to the top of the highest hill on the point, and then hiked up to catch some fabulous views of Petit Manan, the rocky island home of thousands of seabirds.

Yes, we had some fun remembering favorite childhood times---- Richard reminded me of how he'd make that old wooden bridge bend on the way to Nanny and Pop-pop's. As hard as he tried, this "bridge" on the hiking trail just wouldn't budge -- too strong!



Once out on the point itself, Carol painted . . . (see her there in the red cap?) . . .


while Richard napped on a warm rock.








Amazing how comfy one can look on a rock, eh??

Al and I sat quietly together to work on a couple of crossword puzzles (while we weren't sneaking pictures of Carol and Richard).




Then we drove to Corea, saw a few more osprey nests, beautiful seaside homes, and too many lobster buoys to count. We returned to Winter Harbor for a delicious lobster dinner.

After dinner we wandered into an art gallery and met a delightful artist. Carol was thrilled to know that there will be many opportunities to pursue her art here in Maine.

We were treated to another amazing sunset on the way home and caught just the tail-end of it with our cameras. Isn't it magical?


Those are just the highlights of our five quick days together. We're so glad that you came to see us, Carol and Richard. We can't wait for you to live nearby --- we'll have the kayaks ready!