And on the next day…Dave asked me about whitewater rafting. Way back more than a decade ago … Jules and I were whitewater rafting in Maine. It was summer but the water was still cold. And the object of the boat driver was to dump you in the water. It was very cold. We had a great time. I relied on my database and Lightroom to locate the files. It wasn’t too painful. We all had a laugh over these memories.
There is no picture of the madder. You would probably not recognize it. We bought two. It is for dying. That is, you use the root to make a dye for yarn – red. The pedigree is that this particular plant came from the queen’s garden in Kensington. How about that? I have no way to confirm. We have wintered it and it thrived. Then I set It out on the deck when we went on an extended road trip. The only thing that survived was a few very tiny (near microscopic) leaves. I threw the plant out twice because I thought it was dead. It got replanted again and again. My hope? I will revive it and be able to be “back” in the family. Our quest to obtain one met with a lot of poor puns. “Whatsa madder with you?” Geez, could you guys get a better line?
“Before the term existed she proclaimed we would marry and had her mother invite me to a “playdate” at age eight. We were in the same classroom 3rd to 6th grade. When I moved we never communicated again. Fifty years later, I was deleting junk emails when Elkins caught my eye in the subject. Another classmate was inviting me to a class reunion, a class I never graduated with. Colleen? Oh, yes, she’s still around, recently widowed. She responded to my email with, “I’m nosy…” Within a month it was true love. Can you say happily ever after?”
I penned this for the New York Times – Tiny Love Stories. They didn’t publish it. Too many other submissions, mine not good enough.
We were classmates in third grade. Yes, many decades ago. Maine called to Colleen. Pemaquid lighthouse was the place, 2014. We returned last fall, the marriage still not complete. You can guess her longing and frustration. It was technical not reluctance on my part. We already live in a home together. Colleen chose our home in a day and I agreed from Saudi. People have said we looked “married.” I suppose we did. “Happily ever after” is not just in fairy tales.
Love is: “never having to worry about the wind in your hair.”
Four years ago, we sold our apartment in Manhattan. I bought a new camera, actually a fair amount of new equipment that I had lusted after. This was followed by an extended trip to Maine. This year is redux; we travel back to Maine. I got this spiffy camera. I’m not a fan of Sony as a camera though I have owned many Sony videocams and Walkman. Four years ago, cats were theoretical. I had never met a cat I liked or who liked me. It’s been quite a transition. I’m out of Manhattan. I don’t miss it for all the troubles you have to put up with. I miss the action and the restaurants. But I eat well and don’t lack for anything to do. And it is/was time for a new phase. This one is way more peaceful. Anyway, things have a way of repeating. This one time it worked out. The road I have taken has been pretty spectacular.
Symmetry? We had another spectacular trip to Maine. Did I mention it was spectacular?
So, we wandered through the animal display at the country fair. I’m not interested in chickens or rabbits. They are caged and you can’t get a good image. Whoa! Was I wrong! Thanks for dragging me in. Can you believe the images I got eyeball to eyeball with these chickens. And one even laid an egg for me. Hairy feet? Ok feathered feet? Crowing on demand? And the colors and the patterns. Oh my! I’m used to Perdue under plastic wrap. Too beautiful to eat… This was an extraordinarily wonderful unexpected find that I was dragged into seeing. Thanks!
He was in the lottery sales booth when I took this picture. Was he the salesman? I watched him struggle with his shirt. I admit it was a bit warm. What? Why? You decide. I’m stuck with this visual. Did I mean struck?
Pemaquid lighthouse. Everyone comes with camera or iPhone to get a photograph of the lighthouse. I sit and watch them scramble all over the rocks up and down, every which way. They take their shots and move on. Only a few will see the reflection in the tidal pool. Virtually no one will point out this shot. One kind Englishman in all the times I have been here actually took the time to point (I already knew) down at the pool for me. And in all the others I have tried on occasion to point out the quintessential image to some passersby. Largely unnoticed is a gem at their feet. Move on, next attraction, , . look mom, see where I’ve been. Look down at your feet.
Well, this was a first for me. I’m old. This is my first lobster. I don’t eat lobster. Nope! Nada! Never! Ok! But sometimes a bit of lobster bisque. I like the wine flavor. I’ve cooked/steamed lobster. I didn’t like that either. Afterward I turned over the carcass to the eater. The most fun I have had is in shooting a lobster. Yeah yeah, I mean photographing one while scuba diving. But finally, I am subject to the dissection. My companion would eat it steamed but had never taken one apart. At least I knew the theory. Oh, the mess! And the smell of lobster juice on your fingers… no! I did not do anything more than dissect… nary a taste. When you consider that: how you say the title can have two different meanings. I prefer a command interrogative, not entirely accurate but it sounds good. Now that I have broken down a lobster, bring it on!
Here’s something I don’t see often and never in Maine until now. Tuna. I don’t know how large. Say about 300 pounds? At least! It was a big one. It made quite a hit at the dock. I heard some loud voices and peeked over the rail to see the commotion. This was a big fish tale. How big?! But this was no trophy fish. It was headed for the market and a handsome profit. Within moments of hauling the fish onto the dock it was already being dissected. Off with its head! Soon to follow were the fins. They used a simple power saw. Onto the truck. Off and away to market. The head was tossed upon the dock and soon discarded for lobster bait. Nothing goes to waste.
There’s an artist whose work I saw yesterday. He depicted various tradesmen of Maine at their work. One was a lobsterman. And then I saw an old man pick up a poster/print of that lobsterman and mistakenly wondered if he was the man who had posed for the print. No, he was just an old man shopping in the gift store. But his appearance was striking and made me think that he did not seem the tourist who would be wandering like us. I had a cut over my eye once. It was from a door slamming back into my forehead as I walked through on the way to work. It would have required stitches but I was to hurried and too stubborn. Besides the shoemaker (surgeon) has no shoes (stitches/sense). That cut bled all afternoon during my office hours. Heaven knows what my patients thought when they saw me walk into the exam room with a bloody tissue over my forehead.