Against the current

AS THE CROW FLIES....OR NOT...
About 14 years ago I met a remarkable man in Bisbee Arizona. Jim Babcock, a multi-dimensional, creative, brilliant, and somewhat manic eccentric. He was a geologist, artist, writer, landscaper, and when I met him, proprietor of a truly eclectic bed and breakfast. In my few encounters with him on visits there, he said a lot of thought provoking things. Kind of scared the crap out of my young daughter on one visit when he started ranting a bit of existential stuff about her past and future incarnations. Later - years later - she remembered it clearly and admitted that it somehow did make a lot of sense. Anyway, the one thing that he said that always stood out the most to me was this. If you watch the way that all the birds are flying, and you head in the other direction, you'll never have any competition. I've thought about that often in a lot of contexts over the years, and it still rings loud for me.
Jim was one of a kind, and I'm sure there are lots of stories still circulating about him out there. He was, I suppose, a troubled soul, who lived life very large - when it wasn't consuming him. In very odd ways I've never quite understood, he reminded me a lot of my own father, who was almost exactly the same age. I expect they would have never cared for each other had they actually met in Cochise County, where they each spent much of their last years. But they both lived lives very much against the current, and each in their own way found unique reward far from the main stream.
I don't consider myself bold or brazen or driven enough to compare to Jim or my father. But something gleaned from them was the courage or at least curiosity to swim against the current. In a standardized and evermore globalized world, we are expected to funciton like lemmings. Go to school, get a job, get married, raise a family, invest in the stock market or retirement fund, buy insurance, join a church and health club....... and hope that it all works out. Then, when the shit hits the fan for the whole kit and kaboodle....like it has now in these economic times...I guess there's comfort in knowing that everyone is in the same boat. Of course the sad thing is that there are a lot of folks now feeling like they're going down with that boat. Not just the unemployed (more than 10% of us!) but also the overextended, the disenfranchised who can't buy insurance even if they want to, the health fanatics whose knees are caving underneath them. And unfortunately, in my line of work, we see the aftereffects like tidal waves sweeping through the little children who have no clue as to why life is so topsy-turvy.
I'm not sure there's anythng close to sense or comfort in bucking the system or status quo. Who moves to Maine when it's time to think about easing up and retiring? I can't tell you how many people raised their eyebrows at my decision, and questioned my recollection of the meaning of the word "winter." Who buys a house where taxes are some of the highest in the nation, and the economy riddled with some of the toughest problems out there? Hmmmmm, all good points....and ones I'm pretty sure I was well apprised of when I made my move. But there is something here - beyond long cold winters and high taxes, that is hard to pinpoint. Incredible beauty, for sure. Also, a spirit of deep-rooted survival and independence. A tendency to create, and to conquer challenges in unique ways. To commune, commiserate, question anyone's authority, and stubbornly refuse to conform to someone else's idea of what we should be.  Where there are WalMarts and McDonalds up here (few and far in between) there are a LOT of people apologizing and wishing that they'd never let that happen. There are more people here making lives in fully individualistic ways than anywhere else I've ever been.

I hope I can live up to my own expectations of charting new courses here. Of simplifying life, and living at a pace that allows time to really clebrate and enjoy the company of amazing fellow Mainers and the incredible beauty here. Of finding my own underlying creative winds and following their lead. Ah-yup. The snow birds are all heading south, and I am truly pleased to be settling in to a quieter pace and place where I believe I really can hear myself think better. There is one truly Maine cartoon that always makes me chuckle. A Mainer is sitting on the porch and a car with out of state plates pulls up, rolls down the window, and someone leans out and says, "Does it matter if I take route 1 or route 90 to Camden?" The guy on the porch keeps rocking and says, "Don't matter to me one way or t'other."  If that makes no sense to you, Maine is probably not your kind of place. If it made you laugh out loud, you probably already live here. If it made you chuckle, you might want to come take a closer look.

Jet Setting

900 MILES
This past weekend, for the first time, I flew to Virginia as a visitor, and back home to Maine. It was a little strange revisiting the house I had lived in for almost 20 years, now a rental, to do yard maintenance. I keep a little apartment in the basement there, but opted to stay with my dear friend Pam, as the time was short, and given the new arrangement, felt more natural.

Both routes south and north were unbelievably swift and uncomplicated. Heading to Charlottesville, after my brief layover in NYC, I got on the plane with two prominent film critics - also headed to the Virginia Film festival. I felt a little smug in their company, and eavesdropped on their commentary about upcoming films and discussions. With such short hours for catching up to friends and my house there, I limited myself to a mere 3 films. One was remarkable - Mother and Child, a new thought provoking adventure by Rodrigo Garcia, son of the infamous Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Rodrigo is known for writing roles for women that stars will play for little promise of financial reward, and this was another in that lane. The performances were stellar, especially that of Annette Benning. I urge you to see it where you can when it is eventually released in May of 2010. You can check it out before then on imdb.

I wish I had photos to share from the flight back home to Maine. The day was splendid, and the views incredible. Lifting above the Blue Ridge in the early November morning, the hills were peppered with the late fall colors and pink glow over the blue mountains. Still the light haze that renders the subtle hues of Virginia. High above Long island sound, I traced the shoreline to memory to later research the dot that I imagined to be Harrison and home of my daughter, and was delighted that I was fairly close in my intuitive guess. Flying into Portland, across the Casco Bay and islands gave a feeling of peace and comfort, despite the noticeable decrease in fall color from just a few days ago. In a mere 4 hours and a few minutes I had jumped from my Virginia home to Maine. The easy 90 minute drive up the glorious coast gave me time to relish both the ease of transitions and the beauty of the coastline of which I expect I will never tire. Brunswick, Bath, Wiscasset, Waldoboro, Thomaston, Rockland. Turf and bays that are etching their familiarity slowly into my soul. It helped of course, that the Indian summer had followed me northward, and it was approaching 60 degrees.
I arrived at work midday Monday, a little late for my weekly provider meeting. Relaxed, rejuvenated, and marveling a bit at the ease of transitions between here and there. Checking in at home a few hours later, all was well with dog and boiler. Having neighbors to keep an eye on things is huge, and hugely appreciated.

Now it is another Friday, and I am looking at the luxury of my three day weekend at home. I will rake the last of the leaves, and do some bagging and 'banking' - stacking them tight against the north and west foundation walls to add a little extra insulation against the winter cold and winds. Arrange the last of my firewood, and buy a couple more tarps to keep it relatively dry.  I brought back my favorite cookie sheets that I had forgotten in the move northward. My little Jotul is ready to light. I am excited about the thoughts of baking and decorating for the holiday season ahead, and very happy to be at home in Maine. I am warmed by the reconnections with dear friends in Virginia, and the ease of jetting down to see them. I expect that my flow of visitors will trickle to a halt in the winter months ahead, and give me time to wallow in homefires, projects, and growing my community here. The quiet and calm beauty of Maine covered with snow. I am comforted with knowing how easy it is to get on a plane and change climates when the need arises, and thinking a little about my February escape. But more overwhelmingly at the moment, I am loving the settling feeling of hunkering down for the winter. Stop by for cookies and tea or a game of Scrabble if you're inclined. 

First Frost

HALLOWEEN

Actually windy and warm, but also gray and foreboding, the leaves swirling down at a November pace. The sailboats are mostly pulled from the harbor - wrapped and stored for the winter, or far away in warmer waters. The lobster boats are far fewer in number. I guess only the toughest tough it out in the colder months ahead.

I ordered some more replacement windows, and wait for the insulation guys to show up to foam spray my rim joists, seal the chimney shaft, and blow in a lot more cellulose. My little Jotul is crackling in the kitchen. It was actually close to 60 degrees today.....hardly threatening, but it still feels cozier with a little glow and the scent of wood. Plus my bother-in-law bought me a nice axe while visiting recently, and I felt woodsy splitting up some more kindling today.   

The trick-or-treaters arrived, but not nearly in as many numbers as my neighbors had predicted, and now I am stuck with a big bag of awful candy sitting at the front door. I wasn't brave enough to follow the Obama lead and hand out dried fruit. Maybe I've become a chocolate snob, but Butterfingers and Kit Kats are disgusting these days!     

                I'm beginning to think that maybe Maine isn't a whole lot different than Virginia. After all, it is now November, and I miraculously still have flowers blooming in my little courtyard and in my window boxes. Daisies, lobelia, petunias, ageratum, sweet potato vine, nemesia, sidalcea, guara. The basil and tomatoes are frosted, but not the tarragon, savory, parlsey, rosemary, lavendar, arugula, hearty lettuces, or sage. The pineapple sage, a late blooming pendulous red favorite is full of buds, and yet to bloom. I promise I'll share unaltered pictures if and when it does. I have yet to mulch in my weeping cherry, pee gee hydrangea, and assorted shrubs planted this year. A chore I guess I should put on the today list. My mud room is full of potted plants I've pulled in to extend their season as long as they can tolerate my neglect. I'm not much of a houseplant person. And the new energy efficient windows I've had installed actually block out ultraviolet rays and make it hard to raise houseplants - except for African violets. Maybe I'll try those, as I've never been successful at keeping them alive and blooming, tho I have fond memories of my grandmother's many pots in different colors.      

                     Just in case you think I have delusions of the tropics here, I have scraped frost off of my windshield three or so times in October. I do have a big shovel handy, and a fair amount of wood stacked near the kitchen door. I imagine myself devouring novels under one of my ready fleece and woven throws tossed onto my sofa and chairs. Or taking up knitting. Tho I remain a devoted coffee drinker - with my bottle of Jamison's for an occasional embellishment, I also now have a favorite couple of large teacups, and my trusty box of P&G  tea. Is it proper to add Irish whiskey to British tea? My brother, a veteran of long cold winters in Wisconsin, sent me an early Christmas present - a warm pair of Merrell boots. Luxurious! A sucker for jackets and coats, I am embarassed to tell you how many down, wool, and windbreaker options I have hanging in my mudroom. The Goodwill store here is unbelievable.

So, I think I'm almost ready. The time change last night offered up a welcome earlier sunrise. No doubt the earlier sunset will be tougher.......but in another 7 weeks the days start to get longer again. I've been collecting Christmas yard art, and starting to imagine the house full of candles and Pavorotti and scent of Maine balsam. OK.......so I'm also excited about getting on a plane this week and heading to Virginia for a long weekend of extended fall, old friends, and film festival. Also cruising the travel networks plotting my deep winter getaway in February or early March. Getting on the seed catalog mailing lists. Seasons change. Life is good.