Not the sinister, evil, somber, elusive kind of darkness. We’re talking the total, pitch black that happens in Maine. We lack the condition of light pollution. That a giant population catches. And all the other sins that a city, urban area contract for a disease without a cure. That causes heavy traffic, the high priced cost of living in the land of over regulations, crime.
Too many people. Chrome, glass, plastic man made over development unravels, robs. Wrings out and squeezes to death the natural flavor of a special unspoiled, unexploited place like Maine.
Less is more and one of the first things noticed by the new to Maine explorer, traveler are the stars.
Look up, and not just see they are here and there out there. But every where. Brilliant, 1000 watts each. Every one twinkle, twinkles. These are the best kind to make wishes on, to see, feel them come true.
You don’t just see the few brightest stars overhead in Maine.
The velvet backdrop of a night time sky is salt and peppered. With every where you crank your head radiance. It hits you deeply. Like the sensation after scaling Maine’s Mt Katahdin. Enjoying a summer lake side full moon reflection. Add in a breeze, shimmering water lapping against the shoreline sound. Or being camped out by a Maine lighthouse in winter. Shooting images, capturing wearing hand knit wool mittens. Or a slew of other natural settings where Maine’s collection shines brightest of all the states. All natural, unfiltered, pure. Maine. Nothing man made about it. Acadia National Park in Downeast Maine made the top ten for best conditions for dark skies for star gazing.
Have you been to Acadia in Maine, ever witnessed a sunrise or sunset up on Cadillac Mountain? Learn more about this neat jewel of Maine, the Acadia National Park experience.
Natural Lighting, Nothing Man Made About It. And from here you start to realize one by one other things missing from healthy living. Like being vitamin, nutrient deficient. As Stevie crooned about back in 1973, living just enough for the city.
Country living opens up, unlocks the other avenues for greater enjoyment in life. Someone left the lights on is more than about being wasteful, light pollution is harmful to animals. Disturbs the natural night and day patterns. Affects your natural sleep balance, messes with your inner clock.
Maine, sometimes it is best if we don’t leave the light on for you.
Light pollution intrudes on natural low or no light natural settings that make Maine precious, unique. Come see Orion’s Belt, Polaris, Pleiades, the two Dippers and all the other eight grade science class outdoor night exercise on the star formations. That in a city you in time forget are out there. Stop looking for, enjoying them as a constant. Come bathe, bask day or night in our natural lighting in Maine. Wish upon a star you can see, enjoy in Maine.
Why you live where you do is not always because it is your preference for surroundings.
Destination Maine. It’s Living Outdoors, Small Town Friendly, Families. If eight out of ten people live in urban areas, it is often due to the abundance of jobs. Pulling down a bigger paycheck. But spending more money the downside of the higher cost of living. Employment is a nice daily habit if you don’t grow your own food, heat with fuel from your wood lot. If you are not living off grid and totally self sufficient.
But Maine as a destination with a handful of cities and over 108 small unique communities could mean bring that city job with you.
Why do people move to Maine, retire, relocate and make the trip up here in the right hand corner?
Less people, more space, no bad towns with gangs to avoid. Bag the traffic too. No time in our too short life on Earth for killing time like that. But there is more than what we don’t have in the natural unspoiled space.
The local people in Maine are honest, hardworking, friendly, family and community minded. Step up, pitch in. Maine Moonlight, Far Away Lonesome Train Whistle, Simple Living. Priceless. It is all about others and there is a strong connection.
Obvious to anyone who lives here. Ditto to those from outside the town limits that pick up the signal right off the bat. Pot luck supper special and all home grown, highly creative, memorable. Because everyone in the small Maine town has a role, steps up and year after year makes it happen. They know their role, they assume the position.
And the locals live like preparing for a recession, a set back braced for around the next corner too.
Saving for that rainy day. More self reliant, garden variety jack of all trades happening. Mainers not worrying themselves sick because we are all in it together. And practice living in Maine gentile poverty. Making frugal living in Maine an art form.
If you are looking for a neat place to raise your family, where the village pitches in from the side for support. If you like not living in head over heels debt. Replacing it with no or low cost recreational four season healthier options. If you want to step up and pitch in and do your part in a small Maine community. Do we have a small town experience ready, waiting for you when the time is right.
Maine, the way life should be. Used to be pretty much all across the land. But not so easy to find any more.
Storms In Life Happen. Mainer’s Are Prepared For Them. Whatever Happens.
The sound of snowfall in Maine.
Not the nor’easter howling winds while the white stuff piles up, blows, swirls around kind. Or the old window sashes singing in unison in a rickety, weathered, hill top Maine farm house.
That makes that rising variable pitch, blade of grass between your thumbs as a kid kazoo type sound. When winter gusts wander pretty much wherever they want through the structure.
The curtains acting like they do with a strong summer breeze building. When the leaves in the trees add crowd applause whipping “haaaaah” sounds. Just before the bloated, dark water clouds gusher usher in the heavy rain snare drum chorus. Of a thunderstorm on a Maine cottage, cap, barn metal roof Or a lake, river, pond surface pelting. But now we’re talking performing an old man winter opus this time with a different use of the wind.
The soft, low sound when you are outside that new Maine snow falling, accumulating makes.
Falling snow heard on your parka hood, ski pants, jacket sleeves around you. When you are shoveling a walk way, garage door out. The murmur, rustle of Maine winter snow added to, causing the muffled, muted sound cars passing by produce. Deadening, softening everything to the point without looking out a window when inside, you know it has or is snowing.
Insulated with the white blank that absorbs other sounds, changes acoustics. Generates a few new ones in a Maine winter. The crunch of compacting snow under vehicle tires, winter boots walking. Strain, Gain, Filter, Squeeze Lots From Simple Maine Grateful Simple Living. Scraping, chiseling opaque, cloudy windshield sharp sounds as crystalized ice is like diamond hard. Before the vehicle defroster heats up and softens what’s under the off duty, hibernating wiper blades.
Maybe the sound of flakes falling in Maine is more noticeable because you can smell the snow before it gets here, while you move it to a better place than your driveway. here it.
Before it happens to snow. Something to do with the barometric pressure. Or colder temperatures changing the season backdrop.
Like walking in the Maine fall woods where dampness, a little decay gets added to Jack Frost’s fireworks second bloom color wheel experience.
Maybe it’s the less people in Maine that makes, allows awareness of what’s going on around us to happen.
To crank up the volume several notches all four seasons. The lack of Maine traffic, no round the clock sirens signalling crimes are being committed. Someones heading for three hots and a cot at the crowbar hotel. Or multiple ER bound crash carts are en route to the nearest city hospital.
Maine, pick a season, don’t need a real reason to head to Vacationland. Try not to stay away so long. No reason to punish yourself that way. Visit the place with the unspoiled natural space.
Wearing the pointed hat with the too tight elastic that hurts your neck.
To get ice cream, their favorite kind of cake the same calendar day each year. When the older Leo loses their mate there is a different kind of loneliness that enters the room. Because Leo’s are leaders, creative but need that validation a little more than your average bear.
They know they are capable, have a healthy supply of ego but also in one corner a big box of unwrapped insecurity.
That’s where the help mate really comes in. The one that “gets them” and goes a little above and beyond making him feel good about himself. Done home made private between the pair, not gathered out in the public at large. The mate can not be tearing, stripping them down and trying to change them for the partnership to last or be healthy.
Under other sky signs, maybe the attention or “attah boys” out in public for a job well done could be sufficient. Leo’s seem driven to go above and beyond. And during the day to day don’t relish the sunshine of attention of folks praising them along the way. When folks do, they feel a little uncomfortable. Because they are midstream, had a good idea being put into action and no time now for smoozing. And sometimes a little suspect of if the smoozer “doth praise too much” and is not so true blue sincere.
Maybe because of an agenda of what they are after obvious. Possibly because the Leo has just entered the (Twilight Zone / Rod Serling music theme up and under Jimmy please) “spin zone.” (Hit the ending maracas suspensive cymbal crash.) Another dimension of the human condition. Or in Dad’s case an alcoholic father and brother growing up added to the puzzle Mom nurtured to unlock, discover the pieces. The effects anyone that has one or two in the household can appreciate. Recover from as they venture out and try not to make the same mistakes in their own family bear’s den.
So what about you? Do you study the stars?
Do you like the smell of a freshly delivered paper, unwrapped, opened up, uncreased? To start your day holding, reading the black and white sheets of low grade newsprint with a cup of Joe? Do you scan your horoscope, study it and other sign paragraphs, guidance snippets from the stars? Before hopping in the shower, making your bed, deciding on a wardrobe. Getting all spiffed up in the mirror with the same guy or gal you meet each morning at the exact same time.
Some mornings noticing after the brushing the ivories, shaving, combing your hair your red eyes match your dress die of the day? When something heavy is going on behind the scenes to process, adjust to, get ready for to help out anyway you can? When a friend reminds you that instead of all of us thinking about dying someday way way down the road around some far, don’t worry about it corner along the pathway. That suddenly the target date becomes more defined as a little less vague or out there in the mist. Handier when talked in months, maybe a few years.
All the sobering talk causes all around you to grow up, mature, ripen a few notches quickly.
To come up to speed on the all important notion that life if to be lived to its fullest each day. In the here and now. Not behind you. Not raced through with having dessert promised someday on the other end. It may be later than you think.
And what are you going to do about it within the capacity of the role you play to make it better for those around you, which ultimately shapes your own experience. It is all about others. Making their life better knowing you live like you are dying. Chances are we all will someday right? Where is your focus, approach to it all today? Living today as if it is your last and with greater appreciation?
Getting more quality out of life is a common goal.
No matter what your health, age, situation, location. Making life for you and others better than it was, with what you have to work with should be a daily exercise. Turned to after the counting your blessings that Maine families do on both ends of the day.
We are a grateful bunch and pretty spread out thinly in a state not flush with cash.
But wealthy in what counts for natural beauty, space, values. Individuals step up but not for the attention, to hog the spotlight. But because it’s just the right thing to do. To show your kids how it is done. Awareness, appreciation of others around you. Sensing, just knowing your role and place in the Maine community. When there are not wall to wall populations to recruit for what needs doing. And family is everything.
Maine potluck supper gatherings of family, friends, community members are like five star dining.
Missing that same number of forks to create that kind of rich experience. Table talk adding the seasoning. The food made with love, past down tried and true tested dish recipes. And without any organization of menu inventory to make sure it comes out balanced.
Ever noticed how the potluck supper array is always the full compliment of dishes to sample?Maine Church Pot Luck Suppers, Covered Dish Spreads, Nothing Compares. Baked With Love, Served With Pride. Everyone did not end up bringing the same pots of baked beans. No no, it’s salads of all types. Casseroles, scallops, Mexican dishes, Swedish meatballs and lasagna. Baked macaroni and cheese. Shrimp, hot wings. Lobster, ham, egg, tuna mini sub rolls.
Meat platters, veggie trays, breads, sweets and talk about pies. How can you pick when it is like a dessert pie Disneyland? You’re a kid again but taller.
Towering over the pie table that is no longer nose high. To study the blueberry, mince meat, graham cracker, coconut cream, apple, pumpkin, raspberry or wait a minute.
Is that strawberry rhubarb?
Excuse me, coming through. That last piece has my name on it just so’s you know. For munching after this blog post.
For as far as you can see, every conceivable kind of pie, cobbler, puddings, date square and cookies of all varieties. Show up to be sampled, seconded. To stack, chisel off a slab, finish the meal with a slice. Or with hot coffee, a cookie, date square. While you try to make room from the earlier courses roller coasted down the open wide pie hole.
Delicious, mouth watering food. Parked on your DOT highway portable scales bell ringing overloaded double paper plate.
Maybe the reason much of the made from memory, no cook book read along food is so good is it was prepared the way your Mom, Grandmother, Aunt Helen did. You don’t get this caliber food at a local restaurant, can not buy, duplicate it in can. Haul out of the grocery freezer anything on par.
The out of this world food usually found only where a very big meal end tip is expected, included. The meal made with individual love, passion, consideration, kindness. Like an offering bought to the supper to share with others who did the same act. But not the same dish.
Different people in a small Maine community. Not identical, and home made not store bought nutrients, sustenance, goodness under every covered dish makes it memorable.
Along with the conversation, task at hand in the small Maine community gathering at a church. Maybe it is held at a grange hall, a snow sled monthly club meeting, social gathering, someone’s backyard.
Like Forrest said about the not knowing what you are gonna get in that full life box of chocolates, it’s hard telling without knowing. Like that out in the community in a small Maine town. Most members hard working, realizing you get out what you put into what you bring to the table at that Maine potluck supper gathering.
The Harley driver who did not spend twenty thousand dollars for the ride with leather and shades, dew rag with the price sticker still showing.
With extra cash splashed for all the doo dad chrome accessories. The real Maine is like Buddy Schillinger. Whoa. Need A Cat Nap, I’m Stuffed. Looking For A Sun Spot Inside Rays. Buddy owned one very old, crippled Harley bike in a time when not everyone had one parked in their garage. Had run out and bought one too like it seems today everywhere you look.
This black two wheeler Harley bike rescued from its sleeping, twisted grave in a junk yard.
Nursed back to health. Parts scrounged for, patiently collected when the money in the thin wallet was not in abundance. Just not happening. Flowing in like there was a major restrictive life kink. But sufficient to keep juggling all the balls needed to live in his corner of Linneus Maine. And get the bike on the road. Eventually.
Tinkering in the one bay garage. That was a “you can have it if you move it” free situation. A master of having everything, eventually but as the third, fourth owner in a “living in gentile poverty” approach to life.
The black two wheeler originally built without a speedometer, turn signals old. And kept, preserved, run that way. The degree of wind in your hair, amount of bugs in your teeth telling you in your gut you are going the speed limit or not.
Lifting an arm and pointing a hand to show what direction the next turn is going to be naturally, not mechanically.
Like the potluck supper richness, goodness, the Harley was made road worthy with a prayer, shoe string budget, lots of late nights in the shop. Improvising, bartering, trading services to achieve something unique, special. Just not instant off the showroom expensive.
Maine is a four season state that many have to settle for one week’s vacation to do them the other fifty one weeks. I am so lucky, fortunate, grateful to live in Vacationland full time for the potluck rich experience on all levels surrounding me in a small Maine community.
Hungry, Being Grateful, Thankful For What We Have Living In Maine. Sing It Loud.
Meet some interesting people in my line of work. Online from all over.
Last night before closing up the property listing in Maine workshop, the last call for real estate came in from around the world. From Queensland, Australia to pinpoint the location a few clicks away.
The voice, from a man originally from Pennsylvania gave me the order for the property listing kitchen. (Ding Ding)
Shared his wish list with number one to be away from people. Where he can heat with wood. Everything around him paid for, not doing debt. And using a generator if no land line juice available suits him just fine. His wife too who is a native of Australia. She being described as wiry, feisty, vertically challenged. For two years before he entered the picture, she had lived in the outback, the bush where the generator was all she wrote. Building her house from ground up all by her lonesome. Move over Bob Vila. Craftsmen tools may be signing on a new spokesperson.
The email, contact information exchanged. We ran the drill of one by one what he wants. The does not need no thank you helpings of business check off list thoroughly thrashed out too. Then I had to ask. How did you get to that far corner of the World from Australia. Pause. It’s a long story so thought no blog post fodder train of inspiration would be coming round round the mountain. But it did. There is always a woman involved.
Long story short, Frank did two tours of duty in Vietnam working for Uncle Sam in an unpopular war he did not cause.
But a fight he did not walk away from, in back to back bouts in the rice paddy jungle ring. In 1970 while the shooting and shelling were still going on, he stepped up to the counter to take his allotted rest and relaxation. To hop across the puddle to Australia, where he met Marilyn in Sydney. The spark connection between the pair happened. But so did life’s obligations. The “back to work GI Joe” from Vietnam wake up call. Signalling the R & R was over. Ten hut, not more at ease soldier away from the barracks.
So fast forward to back in the states with Frank and swinging a carpenter’s hammer. Running a planer. Making piles of sawdust for a living. Holding down a position in a noble profession, trade of crafting furniture. Creating custom kitchen cabinets. Far safer than the Vietnam 9-5 earlier rat race job.White Tail Deer, Haynesville ME Is Disneyland For Them. Population 2010 Was 121 Friendly Souls. For thirty eight years before he and Marilyn met again. He started looking for her. She had always wondered, not forgotten him. About the same time. Like the song “somewhere out there” sang by a mouse with only the moon to share the sad heart felt tune. Both did their part for the long distance reunion.
Frank had to dig, with bits and pieces from contacting friends in the APB of a MIA. For someone that he still felt the L-O-V-E light beacon shining.
With help of a personal GPS like big brother the Internet. Not using a private eye or a short wave radio, writing letters like the black and white movie love stories. He found her, she found him. He moved to her native Australia. Married a local, low to the ground, not showing up on radar green screen sweeps. Like low flying B-52’s in Aroostook County back when Loriing Air Force Base was in it’s hay day. The couple joined after nearly four decades of being apart.
Tow tickets to paradise, bought for Maine on the silver bird and the very long flight. Lots of standing up by the bathroom and stretching your legs between naps, peanuts, inflight movies. Will be in Maine with his wife and her green card paperwork all neat and sweetly typed out, filled in for the December 30th touch down. His and his bride’s eye on 53 acres in Haynesville Maine with a one bedroom home, attached double garage that would come in dead last for all time best home locations for trick or treaters.
Dead end road, not a neighbor in sight and just the way the two liked what they saw, heard in the video. Rewound, rewatched, studied.
The blue and green spinning marble is a much smaller place with a faster pace. And why many just want to step off that merry go round. Find their small private, no population space on that marble. I’m going to help Frank and Marilyn and learn a lot about Australia in the process without making the leap to see it first hand. Or maybe I will after they describe what it is like cooking on the Barbie, watching kangaroo jump, pouch the kids which is about the extent of my knowledge watching television.
