And into the black? A pair of winemaking buddies is betting on Maine blueberry bubbly.
Midcoast “nature people” Kate and Jonathan Mess push boundaries in the gallery, keep it real at home.
From “Just Say Moo” by Virginia Thorndike in our July 1994 issue. It was not as easy to take these pictures as you might think.
Auto-race enthusiasts cheer drivers zooming toward the Old Orchard Beach pier in one of the hundreds of American Automobile Association–sanctioned events.
What do these things have to do with each other? We had no idea either, until we heard from sculptor Gary Sussman.
Maine’s Sea Grant program, responsible for delivering practical scientific know-how to fishing communities, now faces an existential political threat.
When a shadowy Rockport estate became the world epicenter of psychics and psychedelics.
You’ve seen the ads. You’ve seen the suspenders. Now get to know the discount king of Route 1.
From “On Damariscotta Lake,” in the June 1984 issue. 33 years later, families still take to the water to fish, paddle, or simply splash with the kids.
We live in one of the least homicidal, most neighborly places in the country. Why has crime fiction become our de facto state literary genre?
Bob Trapani Jr. carries the torch for Maine’s beloved-but-antiquated seaside beacons in the GPS era.
In their heyday, dozens of steamboats plied Maine’s largest lake. Soon, though, the Great Depression and the age of the automobile took their tolls, and as steamboats grew obsolete, they were scuttled or simply allowed to sink at mooring.