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A Postcard From Maine
Day #4 in Maine:
The breeze is consistent. The smell of Penobscot Bay salt air combined with pine, birch, shells and shoreline takes me to the happiest place.
I grew up here every summer from the age of 14... I camped with buddies, explored islands, had boathouse parties, a first girlfriend; I went on endless island picnics in our family boat, devouring lobster at every available moment.
I've been coming here too long to let a gray day take a bite out of bliss. The fog brings with it opportunity - to play games, to horse around in boathouses, to paint with watercolors. Today something new happened, a "never before" stroke of luck.
The breeze is consistent. The smell of Penobscot Bay salt air combined with pine, birch, shells and shoreline takes me to the happiest place.
I grew up here every summer from the age of 14... I camped with buddies, explored islands, had boathouse parties, a first girlfriend; I went on endless island picnics in our family boat, devouring lobster at every available moment.
I've been coming here too long to let a gray day take a bite out of bliss. The fog brings with it opportunity - to play games, to horse around in boathouses, to paint with watercolors. Today something new happened, a "never before" stroke of luck.
I woke up at 6:30 this morning, made coffee, and did a little reading on the porch... There was a somewhat soupy view of the mainland right in front of me, but a perfect breeze. After 20 minutes or so, I went running (miserable activity with a victorious afterglow)... Upon return, I elected to jump off the dock into 60-degree water. My daughter Mary came with me for the walk.
Bang... There it was. My foggy day gift. A blessing. A lobster trap that had broken free from its rope and washed up on shore. Was there anything inside?
I carefully climbed down the side of the walkway leading out to the dock, and even more carefully, navigated the slippery, seaweed-covered rocks of low tide to the lobster trap.
Mary was calling out, "Open it, open it." Inside were over 50 juicy clams. Clams don't crawl so how did they get in there?
I called the phone # on the side of the trap and was assured by the owner the clams were not his; that somebody likely went clamming in the mud and stored their catch in a trap they had found. Only now I found it.
With the Lobsterman's blessing, I called cousin Will who came over and we hauled the trap to the dock where I tied it off with rope and sunk it for keeping. I called the family around the island and proudly announced, "Clams and cocktails, 6pm!"
All this before 9am.
**
This afternoon I accomplished something monumental. I beat David Cabot in tennis. David is the king of consistency, a man with such reliant ground strokes it's like facing a backboard.
He went up 2-0 right off the bat. I was past the point of concerned. Then, I picked one off on my serve. 2-1 gave way to 3-1, then 3-2, which slipped to 4-2. It was here, six games in and two games back that I dug in and started "hitting out" as my dad would say. That means like a pilot, you rely on your instruments, trust them and go all the way.
I started pounding the ball back and he started questioning himself. I am very quick on my feet and fought for enough points to make David realize I wasn't going away.
I didn't smoke David. I barely beat him, but I did outlast him and that's awesome because I never have before.
Bang... There it was. My foggy day gift. A blessing. A lobster trap that had broken free from its rope and washed up on shore. Was there anything inside?
I carefully climbed down the side of the walkway leading out to the dock, and even more carefully, navigated the slippery, seaweed-covered rocks of low tide to the lobster trap.
Mary was calling out, "Open it, open it." Inside were over 50 juicy clams. Clams don't crawl so how did they get in there?
I called the phone # on the side of the trap and was assured by the owner the clams were not his; that somebody likely went clamming in the mud and stored their catch in a trap they had found. Only now I found it.
With the Lobsterman's blessing, I called cousin Will who came over and we hauled the trap to the dock where I tied it off with rope and sunk it for keeping. I called the family around the island and proudly announced, "Clams and cocktails, 6pm!"
All this before 9am.
**
This afternoon I accomplished something monumental. I beat David Cabot in tennis. David is the king of consistency, a man with such reliant ground strokes it's like facing a backboard.
He went up 2-0 right off the bat. I was past the point of concerned. Then, I picked one off on my serve. 2-1 gave way to 3-1, then 3-2, which slipped to 4-2. It was here, six games in and two games back that I dug in and started "hitting out" as my dad would say. That means like a pilot, you rely on your instruments, trust them and go all the way.
I started pounding the ball back and he started questioning himself. I am very quick on my feet and fought for enough points to make David realize I wasn't going away.
I didn't smoke David. I barely beat him, but I did outlast him and that's awesome because I never have before.
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