Vacationland

For decades, Maine's state motto, and license plate subtitle, has been "vacationland." Some years back, I think they changed at least the motto to "Maine - the way life should be." I now have the license plate fixed on my car, and the other -the way life should be- has been rattling around in my head for the last couple years. Now that I'm actually here, I'm mulling often about what it is that defines Maine.

With the exception of a short 6 month stay in 1976 - when I was in my young "seasonal drifter" phase - Maine has always been vacationland for me. I don't know how many trips over the last 33 years I've made to visit family, friends, and this unique place and quality of life. But now, on the other side of the residency line, perceptions start to shift. In the peak of summer and tourist season, I too glory in the incredible days when they happen, but resent a little when they fall on a workday. My work of course takes me out and into this beautiful county, and into the rural and village homes of the little people I work with, so it's not totally like being left out. But it is of course different than wandering aimlessly over beaches or floating in the lakes and harbors tracking loons, waves, or white sails across the horizon. I've thankfully had several visitors this past month, most of whom were experiencing Maine for the first time, and wallowing in the wonders of Maine "vacationland." I've heard words and phrases like "Eden," "amazing," etc.

It's a little hard to descirbe what it feels like from the 'inside' looking out. Summer does have it's blissful moments, and it's great to share them with folks who head up Route 1 to see what all the fuss is about - and are lucky enough to grab one or a few of the peak summer days here. The local fish market has a phrase - "Summer people, some are not." You get really possessive about the magic that is summer in Maine, and just a little resentful I guess, about those who come and take it in while you might be working..... Vacationland takes on a differenet ring if you're the one working when others are vacationing. But underneath, you know that you get all of the days....good, bad, foggy, rainy, sunny, white light and impenetrable gray. You get lobster whenever you want, ruggedly independent neighbors, and more lakes, streams, mountains, and oceanfront than you can navigate in a lifetime.

The summer is one unending festival. Blues Festival, Lobster Festival, Boats homes & Harbors festival, country fairs, boat races of all dimensions. The tourists come, wallow, wonder, and leave again. Maine vacationland. It's a great place to live, share, and presumably, just be after it all moves to another dimension. I've not yet made it past the first season. Yet somehow, I'm wishing I had chosen one of the other license plates. Save the children, whales, working water front, loons, lobsters........... or just plain 'the way life should be.' Now that it's home, and I'm a residential working stiff.....anything, but "vacationland."

PS I AM grateful to all of you that have come to visit!! (and supported the local economy!!!....:) and as they say in the south.....Y'all come back now!

40 Days & 40 Nights

Ok, this one is for those of you who purport to be jealous of my new found Nirvana. Every silver lining has a cloud ---- or a month of them. It is now the rainiest month on record for Maine. Over 12 inches in the midcoast. The roses and peonies are drooping and exhausted. The tomatoes and basil are limping toward the hope of sunshine. Other plantings are of course loving the rain forest effects, thriving and soaring. The good news? My basement is dry(!!!) and the vapor barrier that I laid down last week over my dirt/gravel floor seems to be helping hold down moisture. The patience of all is tested. The newspaper talks about foot long leopard slugs, the seeds in my birdfeeder are all sprouting, all the doors and windows are swollen and sticking. The Department of Marine Resources closed the entire Maine coast to shellfishing because the heavy rains are flushing contaminants into near-shore waters and the red-tide phytoplankton is surging. It is hard to tell when it is misting or just heavy fogging. The rains are more obvious. Late last night, to cap this month of rain, we had a severe thunderstorm. No stranger to thunderstorms in Virginia - when extreme heat and shifting fronts regularly erupt in thunder and lightening and downpours, this one followed but another cool and misty day, and was a more unusual phenomenon - or maybe just the last straw. The dog was freaked by it, making me get out of bed to see if maybe the water was rushing into the house or something. Alas, all was well, and my dehumidifier along with my whole house air exchange system was cranking hard to do what it could to keep high humidity levels outside. I actually fell back asleep to a marvellous dream, and slept until 8:15 AM this morning - the latest since my arrival here 6 weeks ago. I am in no hurry for my morning walk today, but relish a big breakfast with the fresh farm eggs I bought from a coworker. I wonder if the hens' nests are molding.

I have a little creek (aka drainage ditch) in my backyard that surges and swells, soaking the hostas and bog plants that I have planted there. The neighborhood children (aka hoolilgans) have a history of riding their bikes through my yard and over my little bridge to the next street. Despite many 'requests' to not play in my yard, they returned yesterday, somehow not understanding the firm NO I had issued only minutes before. I imagine myself finally attaining the role of Cloris Leachman, the ageing eccentric who lives alone and shuns the world in the movie "Prancer" -screaming "my floribundae! my floribundae!" as they sail through her gardens on sleds. They plaintively tried to assure me that my yard was the ONLY place that they could play, the youngest adding that maybe they could LIVE there and have their own little brook. How cool would THAT be??? Bicycle mud tracks, strewn candy wrappers, my fire wood thrown into the brook and flooding my gardens. I try to assure them that they are very smart and strong children (thinking noisy, insolent, unbridled, audacious) and will surely find somewhere else to play. OK, this weather is not bringing out the best in any of us.......

On my eventual walk, I took these pictures, trying to capture the essence of sog. Accompany them, if you will, by the steady drone of foghorns and the sound of water rushing through the sewer lines as you pass the aging iron street drains. For a few flickering seconds, the sky seemed to lighten. Would the sun make a guest appearance.....today?? Tho the heavens were grey, I swear I saw my shadow. I turned around three times to see if I was only imagining. I wonder if anyone is looking. If I am experiencing the polar opposite of the desert mirage. I pull off my rain parka (one of 6 varying styles and warmth that hang now in my mud room). When it is humid and low 60s, it is hard to tell if your body is chill and damp or hot and clammy. Splashing through a puddle in my treasured early pea green rain galoshes that Corrina rejected as a gift too garish, I return home to treasure another day off, a good book, domestic projects, and a prayer that the sun WILL return.....one of these tomorrows.