A Season in Brooklin, Maine

While on the road to a few errands I spotted seasonal portents in the landscape: small mounds of apples dropped beside the road from long forgotten trees; blueberry barrens tending toward red; a maple tree tinged with orange; burnt-sienna bushes; tall tasseled grasses; acres of goldenrod; and the now deserted Blue Hill Fair Grounds. What comes next is a kaleidoscope of increasingly brilliant foliage on the land,  haze-free crisp skies, sapphire seas, many fewer cars on the road, sleeping under the electric blanket, and perhaps a shorter wait for coffee at Sandy's.

So, as it slips away, here's a few notes and pictures of the summer. 

Recently aboard Tramp with the Briggs

A tenacious Winter and a reluctant Spring put the plant cycle off by a good three weeks and evoked quite a few grumpy comments, especially from those who thought it was time to be sailing.

If you get here in May, this is what the pier at the Center Harbor Yacht Club looked like.

This is what the neighbors looked like 

And this is what Katie's Garden looked like.

The Porch Party marks a start to the social season, hosted by the Art & Paul and Karl & Katie Schoettle. The invitation says "5 - 7 PM".  The 80 or so guests arrive at seven after five and have consumed 17 pounds of crab dip and departed by five after seven. It's a great way to catch up with a lot people in a very short amount of time. 

This  summer was much like so many seasons spent at this corner of the peninsula. There were many dinners both as inviters and invitees. There were house guests both returning and new. There was gossip both ongoing and of the moment. There was sailing and there were naps on the front porch glider. There were lobsters and blueberries. There were concerts at Kneisel Hall. There was deliciousness at  Arborvine and Aragosta  and, if I do say so myself, at 41 Steamboat Road. 

The view from the porch included the usual array of wild life, wild storms and wild colors at dawn and dusk, with an occasional unusual and often beautiful sailboat dropping a hook in front of the cottage.

When Chad and Matt were visiting the view was the Eggamoggin Reach through rose colored glasses.....

sorry, I just had to.

There were far too many memorials for those who, as Steve Parson would say, "have gone aloft." I only attended one, for Art's friend from childhood, Sue Drew, at the property where she spent summers.  There was a fair amount of churchiness. The Lord's Prayer was spoken by the congregants in a  tone I can only call begrudging. There was a very strange homily about one of the Psalms and Jesus,  etc. Quite a few people stepped up to the podium as we sat under the big white tent. Some spoke well, at least one spoke too long, but the best by a mile was Bill Fuller, who had worked for Sue for decades, at first taking care of her properties, but by the end of her 81 years helping out in lots of ways. His final statement after a very amusing telling of the tale of their relationship was, I think all would agree, succinct and spot on. "She was a great old broad." There were cocktails and passed snacks afterwards. The bartender obviously had no idea of who this crowd was, the evidence being that he ran out of rocks glasses in the first five minutes.

Other sad news for the summer was the decision Joe & Tom made to sell "The Old Vic". We're just hoping that whoever gets it will continue the Blueberry Martini tradition. Please help find some good owners/neighbors.

On a much more pleasant note, a small gathering took place at the end of Steamboat Road this summer to make official and celebrate the fact that after 40 years together,

ART & PAUL GOT MARRIED

Donald and I were late for the ceremonials but in time for the champagne....to no one's surprise. As with all weddings there were some sweet tears. Betsy Ann was in residence and improvised a quite spectacular cake. Emblematic of the level of sentimentality for this event was Paul's response to the question, "Is there any reason you picked today for the wedding?"
"Yes, because I'm leaving town tomorrow!" 
The Honeymoon was about 10 days later when they drove a U-Haul full of furniture from Raleigh to the emerging year-round house on Reach Road. 

Other events this summer included a few that would seemingly only take place in Brooklin....

Exhibit A

Art made arrangements for the car that stays here to be out of the garage so we could pick it up in the afternoon. No one was anywhere around when we got there and not only were the keys in it, as is customary around here, but probably because the battery was a bit reluctant after the winter, the engine was left running.

Exhibit B

As we were leaving a re-launching at the Brooklin Boat Yard the conversation naturally fell to the big project they are currently working on at the yard..... a 72' sailboat with marine architecture by German Frers and the rest by Frank Gehry. To think about the expense of something like that and how often it will actually be used sets normal heads to spinning. The story told that morning was that the owner is reported to be a friend of Mr. Gehry and to have said something to the effect of, " Really, I just write the checks. I wanted Frank to have something fun to do." As with most of Mr. Gehry's projects there is titanium ( "unobtainium" as they call it at the boat yard ) everything everywhere and, so as to allow for gracious space, plans are being drawn up for the support boat that will be the galley. Nothing beats money! A current phrase in the local lexicon is, "We're taking our friends to see the boat."

The most important development in social life here for almost everyone I know is the full-flowering of Sandy's Provisions, transplanted to town center and offering, beyond the goods for sale and the perfect coffee, a convivial social environment for a wide variety of people. The daily trip there for coffee and conversation and perhaps a pastry is now referred to as "Church". The scene there is worthy of a separate posting. ( Perhaps something along the lines of Humans of New York. Please don't click through to this site just now as I fear you may not return for the few photos at the end. )

The ability to share all this and more with people is certainly the icing on a very delicious cake.

I'll close this one up with a few photos

Life and death on a flower

A couple of reflection shots

Cricket keeping us safe from red squirrels 

Some New England shots are best in black and white.

Swan's Island Light

Louie's official portrait

And a shadow wave until the next posting.

Coming up at the end of September......50th High School Reunion....less than two weeks to become famous!

THE CHOWDER RACE

The end of the season at the Center Harbor Yacht Club is marked by the Chowder Race, a club-wide sailing race.  Maggie and Stephen invited me join them on Kestrel and once I was sure that they knew my best function aboard would be decoration, happily accepted. 

  

The Skipper....as you can tell from the body language and attitude, tensions run high!

The First Mate...... worked hard, and not just to make sure I didn't drop either my camera or my wine glass.

Briefly put so as not to annoy those who already know all about it, the race works as follows. Boats are categorized in three sizes and teams are made up of one each of each size, drawn at random. There was considerable faux-outrage when an obviously large boat was labeled medium.  In order to handicap for the various sizes the course is set up with a Bang Mark. When the first boat turns around that mark, all the other boats can turn wherever they are in the course.  I would never accuse a captain of holding back once it was clear that another boat was going to turn at the Bang Mark, but it certainly seems like it might be a good strategy.  Times are marked and points are scored for accomplishing various things. This year a tennis ball featured in two ways to score points. Before the race a bonus two points could be earned for each team if one member of the team bounced the ball off the clubhouse roof and another member of the team caught it.

An additional two points were earned for passing the tennis ball from one team boat to another. Here they are aboard Sassy celebrating our successful transfer while going in opposite directions.

We were also successful at a transfer which was unique to the race and, even though we got no points for it, what happened was certainly the amusing story for the race on our boat. As we were gliding past her small boat, Esther said, in her best cartoon-aristocrat accent, "Do you have a glass of wine?"  By the time I got back on deck with a fresh bottle we were well ahead of them, so Ben attached the bottle to a seat cushion using the straps and set it adrift off the stern, leading to a successful capture and a smooth finish for those aboard Ray of Hope.  This is my kind of racing.

Aside from ( poorly ) coiling a few ropes ( or lines or sheets or whatever they're called ), holding the tiller for a few minutes, pushing the zoom button on the chart plotter, and passing out sail ties at the end, I did nothing except bask in the scene, the breeze, and the company. It was a splendid day on the water.

Here's a few more pictures 

Sometimes the wind needed a little help. Mark Morris dancers on a sailboat.

 I was a bit surprised at how close we came to other boats.

 Alec and Karl showed up.

Lots of pretty boats.

Art and his sister Carolyn aboard Allegro looking quite content.

My Chowder Cup runneth over.

A SEASON OF CHANGE

Winter was banished from memory in Raleigh by a few tornado warnings and a harlequin landscape of flowering trees, shrubs, bushes, bulbs and vines offsetting an ever deepening green backdrop. 

And so it was time to start another season. Time to head North, really Northeast, or actually Down East.  In the words of that Ol' New England Episcopalian spiritual, I knew that I was soon to be "Bound for Haven".  See below.

The Season (should be all caps ) starts for me with a bit of provisioning at Costco to fill up Art;s car, adding to a gross of frozen loaves of Le Petite Francais baguettes packed in dry ice, a case of liquor from the inventory at the closing of the CC, some lovely San Serre, 7 or 8 computers,  a couple containers of what-not, two dogs, a tub of egg salad, six slices of bread, a handful of cigars, and a couple of Diet Cokes. One overnight later and he's there.

I had been up to my usual thrice daily changing to the travel plan when Bob emailed me that he had an extra ticket for Wicked on Saturday night in Richmond and had just purchased an inflatable guest bed. Dinner with friends before at Chez Foushee was great, both for the food and the company.

Bob and Marc have both been very involved for a long time in the political world of Virginia and by default DC  and always have interesting insights into the processes. I met Harry for the first time and hope he didn't mind being interviewed, but the story of a bright, witty, young emigre from China by way of Shanghai with IBM sponsorship was a story that just kept presenting more questions. When I drifted back to Bob and Marc they were discussing an upcoming event which would be close to Terry's house, so he would probably be there. It took me a few ticks to realize "Terry" meant the governor.

Wicked was fun, of course. Any show that can play that many performances to that many people for that number of years in that many countries is not going to be Chekhov or Ionesco. Anything that can ridicule something as benignly charming as The Wizard of Oz is going to find a soft spot in my cynical heart. Here's a couple of single sentence thoughts about these two shows.

The Wizard of Oz - "Transported to a surreal world, a young girl kills this first person she meets and then teams up with three strangers to kill again." - Rick Polito

Wicked - "If I want to watch two crazy women yell at each other, I watch The View." - friend of a friend

The theater is a spectacle in and of itself. It's one of those Shriner Moorish themed architectural confections which blossomed across the US in the early part of the 20th century. In evening silhouette this one looks like a walled city in Morocco. Inside, a 3500 seat auditorium is decorated with  geometric tiles and murals right out of NC Wyeth. Until sometime early in the 21st century it was The Mosque Theater or just "The Mosque". Now it's the Altria (pronounced "Big Tobacco" ) Theater.

The next leg of the journey took me from Richmond to Boston and from late spring back to just past winter. 

A long walk in the Arnold Arboretum had some hints of spring,

including these two, who were busy filling up grocery bags with greens.

And another splendid evening with the always splendid Chad and Matt. In addition to the high-caliber conviviality of  time shared over a meal and a drink....or two, it's always very interesting to hear some of the details of what how and what they do at work.

An easy zip the next day got me to Haven Colony and the End of Steamboat Road

No leaves on the trees, but still mighty pretty.

First night dinner was at The Pub and included a floor show, in that the barmaid pulled one of our pizzas out of the oven and delivered it directly to the floor. Next day was the opening of Sandy's Provisions, or as it's known in vernacular, Coffee with David. Since then we've had a few transplant year-rounders over for dinner, Art has made 312 trips back and forth to Reach Road overseeing the many things going on there, and I've gotten the kitchen up and running (which initiated a call from the credit card company about consumer fraud potential). Last night we headed to Ellsworth for the HD simulcast from the Met and finished the evening with dinner at Arborvine. I think it's safe to say The Season has begun, and now we get to watch Spring happen all over again.

'TIL THE NEXT TIME.

TIME ON MY HANDS

As Winter slowly uncoils it's constrictor grip, Spring is heralded by a celadon haboob of pine pollen. Okay, maybe it's just an insistent dusting. I'm on to road to recovery from a hernia repair operation (all fine - scroll all the way to the bottom if you want details ).  Anyway, what with the crappy weather and the extra holes in my body,  I've had time to look through some of the 6 jillion or so photos on this computer and have put together a little set for your (hopefully) amusement.  When I started taking these types of snapshots the word "selfie" had not been minted. But now it has, it's in the news, and so here's a small collection, some with notes, of 

SHADOW SELFIES

BYE -BYE WINTER

 MUG SHOTS

   

 

  

ON THE ROAD TO ANYWHERE

                                                                           WASHINGTON MONUMENT                           LAKE MICHIGAN

     

                                                            STONINGTON

HERE ARE A FEW WITH JUST A HAND

 

                                                           

 

Last night I was sitting on the glider on the new deck at Art's house in Raleigh, enjoying the after-cocktail, after-dinner, after-pipe stillness.  I saw a couple of black flittery shadows and followed a pair of bats making widening circles in the grey blue dusk . As I leaned my head back to follow them, almost overhead on a limb not 25 feet above me was the unmistakable silhouette/ shadow of an owl. I said "Hello" and 7 seconds later it swivelled its head, shoved off and took a turning dive into the woods beyond the fence. Happy hunting!

WHAT IS HE THINKING?

  

THESE LAST TWO AREN'T SHADOWS. THE FIRST IS THE ANGEL OF EMPTY SPACE FROM LAST YEAR'S DISCARDED SLIDES. THE SECOND IS JUST ONE OF MY FAVORITE "SELFIES"

I GOT A MILLION OF 'EM!

I think that's about enough for this time out.

Now, if you're interested in the daily recovery notes for the first week or so, just continue reading below.

Wednesday - At the hospital at 6:30 AM, unconscious at 7:12:41, back among the living and on the way home somewhat after 10:00. A few unexceptional, common, but none-the-less annoying post-op incidents; suffice to say I think I can be pretty sure I'm the first person to vomit in Paul's new BMW. Just water thank goodness.  The rest of that day and until the following morning was sleep in the corpse pose, pills, ice packs and chicken noodle soup. Art went to Rite-Aid to get the anti-nausea medication phoned in by the hospital. I mention this because the prescription required prior authorization (which it didn't have) for insurance coverage - original charge $127. Without the aforementioned prior, but with Ride-Aid Wellness card ( which Art did have ) - $66. I received a letter confirming prior authorization a week later in the mail (huh???), took it to Rite-Aid - $2.65. Refund to credit card. Talk among yourselves as to the meaning of this.

Thursday - Pills, ice packs, much horizontalism, every word of every article of a New Yorker, Flannery O'Connor short stories. Is there a single undamaged person anywhere in Southern literature?

Friday - Pills, fewer ice packs, ongoing recumbency, another entire New Yorker, onset annoyance with the whole situation. Pizza for dinner, I believe.

Saturday - Pills and soul-numbing boredom interrupted with brilliance by "House of Cards -Trilogy", the English original material for the Netflix series.

Sunday - Fewer pills, a few phone calls, and the first time out of the house since Wednesday...dinner at McCormick & Schmicks. I reread the notices on my pain meds and found that the only listed side effect to adding alcohol to the regimen was increased drowsiness. "Why, yes, I will have another Gibson."

Monday - Tuesday  - No pills, cautious movement and an awareness shy of pain in a few places. The awareness keeps you focused on how little you should do. A degree of mental clarity starting to show up 

Wednesday - Just post shower and pre post-op follow-up with the surgeon, I noticed some blood seeping from my navel, one of the entry points for this particular laparoscopic surgery.  He acknowledged that they had worked that point pretty hard, assured me that nothing I was doing had anything to do with it and that I would be more or less symptom free in about three more weeks.

Since Then - On the mend.