Two Different Days

Yesterday brought gray skies, cool winds and showers.
It was all good.

Stanley Brook flowing into Seal Harbor at low tide


Mussel shell in the sand of Seal Harbor Beach


Two Laughing Gulls and an immature Herring Gull at Seal Harbor


Today brought blue skies and blustery winds with an icy nip in them.
It was still all good.

The Bass Harbor Head Light


The Bass Harbor Head Light from its most iconic vantage point

Tide Pools

While we were over on the Schoodic Peninsula section of Acadia yesterday, we found many tide pools of various depths and sizes. We happened to be there near low tide when these exquisite worlds are revealed.

Schoodic Peninsula


One of the deeper tide pools


Practically a monoculture pool


Looking back up toward the high water line and the treeline


A very shallow and colorful pool


Close up of the plant life under the water


Close up of periwinkles under the water

I Am Not A Morning Person

I never have been a morning person. I have lots of family members who bounce out of bed at the crack of dawn and hit the ground running. I did not inherit that gene. Nor did I marry someone with that sort of nature. To the contrary, Chuck is an absolute night owl. But it turns out a lot of interesting and beautiful things happen in the wee hours of the day. I woke up at 5:00 this morning and noticed a warm glow spilling in between the drapes. Curious, I peeked out. Sunrise, I thought. I’ve heard of those. I must have been intoxicated by the salt air or hypnotized by the rosy sky, because I shrugged on a sweatshirt over my nightclothes, picked up the camera and quietly went out on the balcony. The bay was already bustling. Seagulls were flying overhead; crows were squawking. A lobster boat motored by; the men on board shouting their conversation over the pulsing diesel engine. Another hotel guest was out on her balcony, camera in hand.

I stayed outside for about a half an hour. I may have missed the big reveal of the sun climbing up over The Porcupine Islands, but I enjoyed every moment. Perhaps, after half a century, I should reevaluate the whole early morning thing...

Stalker? I Prefer The Term Groupie

When we returned to the hotel, we opened the door to the balcony. You’ll never guess who stopped by a few moments later. Yes! We were inside the room and heard a loud sound. It wasn’t like a crow cawwing. Nor was it like a gull crying. It was a sort of conversational croak. Sure enough, the gull had landed on the balcony railing and was saying hello. As soon as we appeared in the door, he stopped talking. I snapped a few photos from the doorway and decided to venture closer. I sat down in the chair and put my Carriage Road hiked-out weary feet up on the table. He stayed put. I got up from the chair and stood little more than an arm's length away, whereby he allowed me to take the two close up shots. He was so delightfully calm, that we even made two Skype calls: one to my sister Gail in Georgia and the other to our niece Carrie and her husband Al in Rhode Island. By holding the laptop up to face the gull, they were able to share the moment with “Fred” and take in the view as well.

Last One!

Today we hiked the Carriage Road in Acadia which leads to Little Harbor Brook Bridge. Chuck began “bagging” the bridges of Acadia back in 2006. His ever faithful companion - that would be yours truly - has tagged along on each outing. There are seventeen of them in the park, the construction of which was ordered and overseen by John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Today we bagged the last one! It took us about two hours and forty minutes start to finish. As we headed downhill on the way to the bridge, there was a certain amount of anticipatory bemoaning the eventual return uphill. I’m happy to report that, yes, the uphill was tough, but not as bad as I had feared. It absolutely helps to have a camera around one’s neck so that one can pause and say: “Wow, look at that rock-tree-bird-moss-lichen-flower-view-whatever...” which allows one to gracefully catch one’s breath while snapping photographs!

The Fabulous Herring Gull Tour of 2010

We went puddling along the Park Loop Road in Acadia today. The weather was perfect: all bright blue skies above deep blue waters. Past Otter Cliffs and the causeway across Otter Cove is Hunter’s Head. It was here a few years ago that I introduced you to Ralph. Today he (O.K. truth be told, I have no idea of the gender!) was waiting for us in the very same spot. As we pulled up, a friend of his joined him - his name escapes me now. And the two settled in comfortably for their photo shoot. I love the polka dot effect they have on what looks like their tail feathers, but are actually their wing tips folded neatly behind them - very snazzy. While I was outside, happily snapping pics, Chuck was in the car, wrestling with an old fashioned paper map, trying to ascertain which islands we could see in the distance (most likely the Cranberry’s).

These gulls are so graceful soaring in flight. They are clever as they drop mollusks from the air onto the rocks below, to shatter the shells and dine on the morsels within. They can be raucous and nearly overwhelming when great numbers of them cry out, seeming to argue together all at once. Yet, they can also be placid, patient, companionable creatures, resting on a slab of pink granite, while that blogger lady from Massachusetts takes her fill of photographs.

We’re Not Alone

So, it’s no longer dark.
It’s the next morning.
But most of the sounds I described last night are still washing over us.
Only the loon is off somewhere else.
And the sounds of people walking, talking and breakfasting have been added to the mix.
We’re sitting out on the balcony, enjoying it all; hard pressed to find the motivation to leave and head into Acadia - when Fred joins us.
Apparently he’s part of the Welcoming Committee or maybe this is “his” balcony.
Either way, he stayed long enough for me to snap a photograph and was so calm and quiet, I had to fight the urge not to try to reach out and pet him.

A nice start to a good day...

Perfect

It’s dark.
But there is enough light from the moon to see the silhouettes of the islands in the bay.
I can hear the waves lapping gently against the shoreline.
I can hear a bell buoy ringing.
I can hear a what might be a fog horn far in the distance.
And occasionally, just often enough to lift your spirits, I can hear a loon call.

The air is cool and crisp, even this close to the water.
The temperature is in the 40sF (5C), but I can’t bear to close the door and block out the beautiful sounds.

Yes, we’re back in Maine.

May I Direct You To...

The cutest cat pictures - ever. A complete peaceable kingdom.

A laugh out loud post on exercise meets strippers. Seriously.

Food and photos to make you, well, drool.

Have a lovely day...

We Wrestled Another One

This afternoon we finally reviewed and edited the first drafts of our new wills and all the attendant documents. Last week it was the taxes, today the wills. This much fun might just be illegal. Tomorrow we’ll pop the envelope in the mail to our attorney. She’ll faint when she sees it in her inbox. Last time we did this - a decade or so ago - it took us years, literally, to get this far in the process. So two and a half months will leave her floored. Soon she'll make the corrections, answer our last few questions and we’ll be ready to sign.

At that point, alligators be damned!

Survey & Free Digi-Kit

Once again Jessica Sprague, digital scrapbooking teacher extraordinaire, is conducting a digital scrapbooking survey. Whether you can work in Photoshop Elements or Creative Suite with your eyes closed or you have barely put your toe in the digital scrapbooking water, Jessica wants to hear from you.

If you go and answer a 20 question survey, at the end you can download a Free Digital Scrapbooking Mini-Kit (image above). Which is definitely more substantial than the term “mini” implies!

You can click here to take the survey. Then download your kit and start having some digi-scrap fun!

Uh Oh... Nope. False Alarm.

I had a “kiss of death” moment the other day. I thought they had discontinued or (perhaps worse still) reformulated my Noxzema. I think we always had some Noxzema in the house. I remember it being scooped out of a blue jar and slathered on sunburned shoulders in the summertime. When I was a preteen or teenager I began using it as a skin cleanser and a moisturizer. I liked it. I stuck with it. So I’ve been using it in one way or another for nigh on half a century.

Hang on. That concept made me a little woozy...

O.K. Where was I? Right. Noxzema. It actually is one rare example of my trying a new version and liking it. No, really! Back in the late 1980s or early ‘90s they came out with Noxzema pump bottles. It was a more liquid version of the original in the jar. I tried it and found it was a little silkier and more easily absorbed. I didn’t like the price and tried making my own by adding water to some original from the pot. That did not work at all. So I began buying the pump and never looked back.

A few days ago, we were in a store and I headed over to the shelf where my Noxzema normally lives. It wasn’t there. Some other blue containers were there. The labels said Noxzema but they looked completely different. O.K. maybe not completely different. But at the time it felt like they were completely different. Most importantly to me (and this is all about me after all) there was no Noxzema in a pump. We quickly regrouped, went to another store where we found the exact same situation! While Chuck rummaged for some smelling salts, I tried to control the urge to scream.

But on a visit later that evening to the Noxzema website I saw the message “New Look! Same Great Products!” Phew... Of course I won’t breathe a truly deep sigh of relief until I can restock. (I wonder if I should rent a U-Haul truck?) Most importantly, the pump is still featured on the website and it actually looks remarkably unchanged. They probably have no idea how much that means to me.

Red Robin

On our trips to Washington state we discovered the Red Robin restaurants. They began in Seattle during the 1940s. The food was always good; not terribly expensive. The restaurants were clean, bright, with interesting posters, photographs and artwork on the walls. And the staff was unfailingly cheerful. I’ve mentioned in previous posts that the helpfulness of many employees in Washington state initially took us by surprise. So it was easy to assume that the positive vibe we experienced at Red Robin was simply part of the cultural fabric of the Northwest. Then Red Robin opened a restaurant in Millbury and we gave it a whirl. With the exception of the southern New England accents, we could have been back in Greater Seattle!

Last night we stopped at Red Robin on our way home from Rhode Island. Friday night found them busy and bustling. The gal at the desk told us we would have about a twenty minute wait. It turned out to be closer to twenty-five, but that was close enough. While we waited, Chuck and I entertained ourselves by watching the Red Sox game on the television sets and listening to the names of diners being called when their tables were ready. When I was a kid, my Dad always gave our last name to the host. Nowadays, folks tend to give their first name, us included. (The exception would be when we call and make a reservation or use a service like Open Table.) As the names were called out, we began pretending famous people were in the house. We would hear “Taylor, party of two.” and one of us would exclaim “Taylor Swift is here!” We kept this up with rapid conversions from ordinary people to mostly young, hip celebrities including Matt Damon, Lindsay Lohan, Kenny Chesney, Josh Beckett and so on. The one that stumped us was “Julie, party of four.” We wracked our brains for a contemporary celebrity named Julie. Chuck finally offered Julie Harris and I volunteered Julie Andrews. At that point we felt really, really old! But the time sure had flown by!

When we were comfortably seated in a booth, Chuck noticed that the staff had something embroidered on the sleeve of their polo shirts. It read “Honor, Integrity, Continually Seeking Knowledge and Having Fun”. Turns out that’s what Red Robin describes as their core values. No wonder we like Red Robin!

Triple Play

On the way to Rhode Island to see my Mom today, we stopped in Worcester. We did our usual Water Street hat trick: Weintraub’s Delicatessen for corned beef sandwiches and pickles, Widoff’s for some baked goods including a bubke (We say bubke, they say bobke) for my Mom and Tom’s International Deli, this time for cream cheese. We’ve got the Water Street hat trick, or trifecta if you prefer, down to a science. Unfortunately, Tom’s will be moving across Kelley Square next month onto Millbury Street, near the Emerald Isle. They sound very excited about the move and we’re happy for them. But we’re going to have to sharpen our skills to navigate Kelley Square multiple times and keep the one way streets of Harding, Water and Millbury sorted out!

Free Range

I need to preface this post with a disclaimer: I am not a Mom. I have nieces and nephews and love being an Auntie. But I understand clearly that Aunties and Moms are two entirely different roles in life.

O.K. That said, I found this website to be intriguing: Free Range Kids. A phrase has recently entered the lexicon “helicopter parents”. It describes parents who constantly hover around their children. Free Range Kids is a concept formed by Lenore Skenazy in response to overprotecting and over scheduling children. As Ms. Skenazy puts it: “Free-Rangers believe in helmets, car seats, seat belts — safety! We just do NOT believe that every time school age kids go outside, they need a security detail.”

I grew up with pretty protective parents. I knew some kids whose parents were truly over-protective. My parents were strict enough that they came in handy if I needed to say “No I can’t go (fill in the blank for do something stupid) with you. You know my parents would kill me!” But even with them being as protective as they were, I spent a great deal of time out in the world, on my own. Before the house across the street was built, I built forts there. There was a school one street over where I sat by myself and wrote my first poem. When I was somewhere between 12 and 14 years old, Dad got me my ten speed bike and I was gone. I would ride from our home in Warwick down to East Greenwich and on to Potowomut. I would visit with friends and we’d ride all over together. But sometimes I’d be by myself. Truth be told, I would often ride my bike down to church, sit in a pew and visit with God, so I wasn’t exactly a hellion! But the point was I was out and about, on my own, with no cell phone, just some coins for a pay phone in case of emergency and a wrist watch. I had to be home on time, so the watch was part of the uniform.

I know there is a perception that the world was a whole lot safer back in the day. I often share that perception. I feel the clutch of fear whenever an Amber Alert goes out. I remember Holly Piranian and Molly Bish. Yet there is still something inside of me that is convinced that the world is, on balance, a pretty safe place. What I gained from being out and about on my own, whether it was a block or two away or several miles, was a great gift. Especially to a shy, sometimes really scared little kid who discovered she possessed more self confidence and a more adventuresome spirit than she thought she had. I wouldn’t want to take that away from any child.

Step By Step

The taxes are done and have been submitted electronically!
Checks (yes, plural) go to the Post Office tomorrow morning.
I guess it doesn’t matter if you fall down just before the finish line and crawl over it or if you fall down just after you cross the finish line. Either way, you’re finished - er... - the task is finished!


10 points to anyone who correctly names the obscure musical reference in this post!

: : Ooops! & a Correction: Chuck and I are both embarrassed. The title of the post should have been “Bit By Bit” not “Step By Step”. Morgan mentioned taxes and violets in her comment. I knew taxes weren’t mentioned in the song. But I wanted to be 100% certain about the violets. So I pulled up our iTunes and hit play. 7 minutes and 18 seconds later we picked our jaws up off the floor! I guess it’s just proof we were both crispy last night!

April 15th Looms

Paper Records. Check.
On Line Records. Check.
Calculator. Check.
Turbo Tax. Check.
Checkbook. (Sigh...) Check.
Tick, Tock, Tick Tock... Yikes!

Long Distance Calling

The highlight of my Sunday afternoon, summarized in two Tweets:

Between Massachusetts, Georgia & HP Tech Support we got my sister's new computer hooked up & running! Psyched!

I'm very happy for her! However, I am envious of her faster processor, larger active memory & One Terabyte(!) hard drive! 1T - Swoon... ;o)

There were two landlines, one cell phone, an internet connection and a very nice man named Indra in the mix. But the bottom line is Gail is happy and I had fun helping her, even though I was 1,100 miles away.

Memories & Farewell

It was back in January of 1989. I had flown out to see my sister Karen and her family in California. Our Mom was visiting at the same time. One evening, Karen arranged for all of us to go and watch a taping of the television situation comedy “Designing Women”. It was fascinating to see what goes on between takes and behind the camera. Even though the show broadcast as just a half hour, it took many hours to record. As the evening wore on, some audience members left and some of the seats around us became vacant. That was when Hal Holbrook sat down right next to me. He was married to the star of “Designing Women”, Dixie Carter. I could barely breathe. I was so excited. I stayed calm and cool and managed to exchange some pleasantries with him in between takes. No, I didn’t ask him for his autograph. I was being cool remember? At one point Dixie came up to where Hal was seated. They smiled and chatted. It struck me during that brief exchange that they were completely enchanted with each other. From start to finish it was an exciting and memorable evening.

Tonight I learned that Dixie Carter passed away earlier today. She was just 70 years old. Hal is 85. This May they would have celebrated their 26th wedding anniversary. May Dixie rest in peace. May Hal and their family find comfort and peace.

Forsythia

Take this branch of Forsythia, multiply it times a gabillion. Assemble the newly multiplied branches into enormous, wildly uninhibited, extravagant, exuberant bushes. Place those bushes alongside roads and in the medians of divided highways. Let the heavens open up and send down steady rain all day. Against the gray rain and brown winter landscape the Forsythia becomes luminous. That is what we saw all over Central Massachusetts today.

Can you forgive a blogger who left the house today without her camera?