Rising early one morning, a veteran of many Maine winters witnesses an evanescent phenomenon he’s never seen before — or since.
Wasn’t the indie bookstore supposed to be a relic by now? Jeff Curtis, of Sherman’s, Maine’s mighty micro-chain, says there are still plenty of chapters to go.
Assimilation shouldn’t mean leaving your language behind.
One writer finds a serene holiday moment in a quiet country church.
A treatise (with gunplay) on “the two Maines,” peace on Earth, and good will towards Ben.
Harpist Liza Rey Butler’s new collection of lullabies — yes, lullabies — is good for more than just baby bedtime.
You think Santa’s busy? Meet Jim and Teresa England, who coax trains, trucks, and airplanes out of blocks of wood.
Recently returned from wartime duties at Quonset Naval Air Station in Rhode Island, Captain Bill Wincapaw, wearing the beard, resumed his role as New England’s Flying Santa Claus in December 1946.
Politicians love her. So do neighbors, cops, and hot dog vendors. And her selfless spirit — and the demographic shift she represents — can reshape our state for the better.
Engineer Eric Schade has created an elaborate railway village in his Phippsburg garden.
We asked readers and friends to share their traditions and stories about going out each winter in search of that perfect tree. Here are a few of our favorite responses, from across the generations.
Each month, Down East editors select our favorite response to “Where in Maine?” Here is our favorite letter from October’s, Cadillac Mountain picture.