Nightmare on June Street
When the real estate property tax bills show up, you can feel our spirits droop.
In North Rumford, where my great uncle lived, time seemed to move in reverse.
We didn't need an excuse to come home to Maine, but a hurricane provided one anyway.
Notes from the Fields
I farm in revolt against the grocery store, where checkout clerks don't know what parsley is.
A Modest Proposal for Portland
Maine's largest city should keep replacing its creepy open spaces with condos.
Breakfast isn't the biggest challenge in opening a Down East B-and-B.
A Soldier's Son
That spring we all lived in the shadow of a distant, but approaching, conflict.