Labor and tradition endure on a low-tide landscape that few ever glimpse.
Red Lobster became my stand-in for the Pine Tree State, and I liked what I saw.
He probably thought I was just another nosy newcomer to his coastal Maine village. He was right.
I still don’t know where I’m headed after college, but I know that I want to emulate the way Phyllis achieved contentment.
I’d never heard of Brunswick. And Maine? All I knew was that there’d be lobsters and snow.
A bevy of Maine beaches, two friends, and one simple commitment: take a monthly dip in the ocean, no matter what.
Of all the happy summers I spent on Southport Island, I think that summer was my happiest.
A clubhouse on the banks of the Penobscot River recalls the days when salmon — presidential or otherwise — were plentiful.
Home is someplace between Walden and a woodstove.
The holidays shine a light on marine workers’ hidden talents and passions.
A longtime sportsman faces down illness — and heads out into the field one last time.
Sometimes there’s more to a hard day’s work than a hard day’s work.