“As you get older, those seasons accelerate, arriving and departing like houseguests — hardly time to clean up after one before the next one is on the doorstep.”
The legacies of my generation, individual and collective, will be various: much to boast about and much to be ashamed of.
This November’s midterm elections pit us against each other in ways that seem to have precious little to do with realities grounded in our local and national geographies or their histories.
Early last April, a pair of ospreys — newlyweds, so to speak — built themselves a nest there. Every so often, we’d see one or the other of them…
Those rivers, those woods, those creatures, that country: The Way Life Is.
“Rare birds, high-value birds, please us. But no more than the cliff swallows that once arrived in abundance every spring.”
By 1900, the following animals were extinct or nearly extinct in Maine and everywhere else east of the Mississippi: 1) any wild canid larger than a fox, 2) wild turkeys, 3) beavers. Now they act like they own the place.
Up North, in the true canoe country, early May is to canoe-tripping what Thanksgiving to Christmas is to retailing. The whole year quickens toward those two weeks.
Seems like yesterday: everything sharply detailed and in focus, more vivid now in memory than it was then in fact.
New England Elms, long cherished as ornaments, became symbols, providing more than simply shade.
The house you sit in and the ground you stand on are liquid assets. We hold a lease on life itself and on every other thing we think we own.
These four Maine senators seemed to have shared basic convictions.