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Maine, The Place For Fine Tuning Around The Rough Edges, Life’s Sharp Corners.

Get Seconds, Third Helpings Of Pure Natural Outdoors In Maine. Improve Your Attitude.

Your surroundings set the stage for whatever comes next.

Oh sure, snarky folks, negativity drama centers happen depending on the people you hang with but plenty of space, beau coup natural beauty is the conveyor belt to ride. To hop on for a deep rich life. Loaded with extra helpings of clarity and awareness. To keep it coming. Understand how it works, shake and bakes.

My mom called for moderation with her tribe of four boys and my Dad as co partner. But also to avoid stinking thinking. Your surroundings if the population is not sardine tightly packed, strait jacket squeezed. If the four seasons roll with outdoor recreation and unspoiled natural settings all help what comes out the end of your day to day.

Taking ownership of it is your choice to be happy or not is easier if you like where you are on the third rock from the Sun, planet Earth.

Free to be me, safe. You can work on the personal areas you have the combination to unlock, improve. Let out into the bright sunshine of daylight. And to let go, roll with what those around you do in words, actions, attitude and in the events unfolding that you can not, should not pick the lock.

Despite the good, bad, ugly playing on your life power point slide show, you can still end up on your feet. Smiling, thinking you and I are pretty darn lucky overall. Gladness, gratitude, happy happy happy. Filled with that Eagle’s condition called a peaceful, easy feeling. Without having to sleep in the desert tonight. Or catch a ride in a flatbed Ford coming out of Winslow Arizona. Heading to the Hotel California, passing Cadillacs with Dead Head, rows of colorful dancing bear stickers plastered on the bumper. After the thrill is gone.

Right Action, Franz Ferdinand Music Video.

Why not plan, set a place at the table for rock free, smooth fertile soil bed happiness? To plant the seeds of less stress? Cultivate, weed and feed for better bigger bounty harvest results?

By adopting an approach of positive thinking to get more out of life. That angle becomes second nature, a habit like air, water, love, family. An inside job, the activity radiating from within oozing out. Not able to be contained. Rather than sought from without, far reaching around yourself yourself. Soliciting others who don’t want to be written into the script. Are in there own productions.

The mental attitude to see the bright side of things is the deep well of pure joy. The kind that no matter how sideways or upside down life becomes, hang on loosely, let go of the past and live in the moment. Enjoy the season and calm seas that precede, follow any storm or correction in life. Glean, seek, harvest the take away. That opens you up, makes you less narrow and uptight. From lack of control which means others can not be free to be themselves.

A positive mind anticipates happiness, joy, health, and favorable results. Maine, the place with all this space. Unplug, recharge, enjoy the lack of spin, insincerity and embrace our simple living approach to life. The way it should be, used to be everywhere but not so common anymore if eight out of ten people live in cities, urban area.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
mooersrealtymedia@gmail.com

If you adopt this mental attitude, you teach your mind to expect success, growth and favorable outcomes.

September 1, 2013
Maine, Places Where Words Come Hard, No Talking Happens.

Everything Changes Inside, Awareness Increases, Clarity Happens.

Communication is not always two way and when you are lucky enough to spend time in Maine after living in a crowded area, certain special places shine brightest.

And you retreat to these natural settings to rest, relax, unwind, regroup. To share, compare with others in your life back and forth. Exchanging puzzle pieces each of us have that others need.

Last summer I climbed Mt Katahdin twice, and am set to tie up the hiking boots for another ascent.

Because along the way as the blue rectangle of paint marks the rocky pathway up Maine’s highest mountain, something sings inside. Getting louder, hitting deeply as you reach the table land. It never gets old. Is never the same experience.

As Knife’s Edge comes into view on the mile high climb up Katahdin. And you find yourself gawking, gushing and feeling so high inside because of the sheer unspoiled beauty of the setting. And partly because since you were a little kid, you have known this place. Experienced this feeling deep inside so many times before. And each climb, visit with the wildlife, scenery and neat folks you meet along the way gives you perspective. On everything in life because clarity, awareness happens. Steps up several notches. The volume increases and draws you out. When you strip away the helter skelter of everyday living in the blur called life. Everything artificial and man made, store bought, temporary is removed. Not important, loses all its value.

Conversations with your hiking party stop.

Because everyone in it arrives at the same place physically, mentally, spiritually. Lines up and are on the same page. You can not get any place higher in Maine. Above it all. No dirt or perch any closer to the Sun in Vacationland than Baxter’s top pinnacle. Or there are many other options of smaller bumps to conquer depending on the ability, age of the hikers that join you. No one is denied, everyone is served, leaves with something memorable, never fade in Maine.

The cold water enjoyed with the long views in every direction on top of Mt Katahdin tastes like the best drink you have ever had. So does the snack you unwrap and carefully stow away its container when done. For the carry in, carry out principle of respect, good stewardship.

Everything intensifies partly because of the struggle, determination to get to the top.

Nothing lost because you have been there before because it is always special. Never same old same old. Because you are in a different place than the last climb. New and improved or always a student ready to learn more. Striving to not stand still or get too comfortable. To push the boundaries and experience more in life. To avoid ruts, complacency, stagnation.

The same exhilaration happens skiing down a Maine slope. Paddling a lake or sea kayak. Biking a parkway or island trail. Enjoying a picnic along the way as you explore Maine. Get to know her up close and personal. Find your passion, unplug and recharge in Maine. And consider how more cherished she becomes on the ends of the typical tourist season’s heaviest traffic. When folks thin out as the temperature dips on the ends of the day. And you don’t have to share her with as many people or any at all if you time it right.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

August 27, 2013
Skills, Talents, Work Ethic, Mainer’s Wired With Something To Trade, Barter With Others.

Getting Hungry For Home Made, Mouth Watering Maine Food?

If money was not worth the paper it was printed on, coins ditto regarding the face value, what would you use to trade, barter, get what you need for goods and services?

Your good looks alone might leave you hungry, wanting, going without because more important things are needed for local survival of you, your family, neighbors. To keep the small community of Maine tight, bright, open for business on all levels.

Food. The pretty basic, awful nice to have three times a day. There are some out there who look like more than that many trips to the refrigerator or drive through is happening. But if you had to dicker with your talents, skills, could you bring something to the table? To do the cash and carry with more than plastic card with a magnetic reader strip. Other than currency with dead Presidents on it?

Maine is a rural farming bread basket of highly fertile, productive soil.

Where you can grow your own produce, fruit and raise your own meat. Collect those double yolk orange eggs each morning. To milk Bessie, Agnes, Bertha if you needed to for dairy product production. For yourself. To trade with others for something in return that you need. Nothing to tax for the IRS to collect on in these swaps. But life at the most basic level meant your existence was pretty much contained within the rock wall farm property boundary markers. Inside the pasture fences, hedge rows of mature trees lined up like soldiers defining where your Maine farm stops, your neighbors begins.

Sound like a lot of work on a Maine farm? Not if you are hungry. Not when the “if it is meant to be it is up to me” memo is read carefully, understood. Allowed to sink in slowly. You, yourself, and I being the captains of your life ship. The one your young family sails in too. To provide for your loved ones something healthy to eat. Along with weather tight, warm shelter, safe surroundings of a loving Maine home.

When you are more in charge and less dependent on others for the day to day, skill sets improve.

. A bit of a carpenter, mechanic, blacksmith, welder, veterinarian, etc. A feeling of empowerment happens. Atta boy, you can do it. Have to because when you turn around, no one is behind you. You’re all she wrote, the whole nine yards. You’re up chummy.

And a hand out request goes unanswered if everyone is pitching in, working for the greater good of their homes first. Because that is where charity lives, starts out and blossoms to other less fortunate. That can not labor. No choice in the matter. Are lame, blind, deaf, sick, elderly, worn out. Or fall in the small children category to be taught how to take care of themselves. To be responsible, resourceful, creative with what they have. Not to whine for what they don’t need. But only thought they wanted until what is important, the basics take the center stage focus of life as they come to know it.

The “won’t help themselves, we have rights, you are discriminating” quick to call foul and threaten legal action protected group learn quickly to develop some work ethic. To shift from vacation to vocation mode. To be productive, contribute and come together in the community. Sink or swim. Or be banned, pushed out of it because of no place for the lazy gene they were born into, taught to manipulate and spin by working the system. The public aid that was not designed for long term assistance from others only. But everyone taught how to fish for themselves. So they could teach others to do the same. Be worthwhile in the local community and considered an asset not a liability.

Public assistance was for a temporary leg up, helping hand to reach down when things were pretty dark, gloomy.

When all hope got up and went. Left the room. Before your faith kicked in, came up and under about the time you bottomed out. Went down and hit bed rock for the last time. In the do or die big push for change. A better way. And the public works projects meant you did something for the bowl of soup, slice of bread that was just enough to sustain you. Something contributed for the sweat, effort so a morsel of nutritional, wholesome is given back, exchanged. To settle up.

Growing your own food in Maine on a farm. Heating with wood from the back forty lot of mixed growth, timber. Hard work and by Tuesday noon you have your forty hours in because of round the clock labor. Up with the rooster, chickens to tackle the cows, small animal’s needs. To prepare for the day spent until sunset in the fields. Preparing the soil, removing rock and debris.

Planting the Maine farm seeds, cultivating and hoeing the hills of vegetation. To guide it, shape it and hopefully harvest it if Mother Nature does not raise her ugly head. And weather puts you the farmer on the ropes with crop loss. If sickness with the herd does not set you back two spaces in the board game of life on the Maine farm.

Maine farming, not all glamorous, never easy but you and your family don’t go to bed hungry. Are too busy working on the Maine farm to worry. You have work to do and on a short time frame window of opportunity for this, for that. And oh yeah, this long list too. More callouses, no drama, and get to work, there are jobs to do to stay on the Maine family farm.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

August 26, 2013
Maine, The Living Room Is Outdoors, Not Contained In Four Walls.

Maine Lake Living, We Have Lots Of Waterfront Options. All Clean, Uncrowded.

When you visit, live in Maine, outdoors is the place to be all four seasons.

Any chance you get. Because this is Vacationland. It’s the call of the wild, in our blood. And sitting on the couch with a channel changer wand held high and pointed at the big screen is not the default activity. It’s getting out on the open water. Hiking up over hill and dale on the trail. Picnics along the way in the backyard of Maine wildlife.

Folks Spend Their Life, Four Seasons Outdoors In Maine.

Natural, real, hitting a person deeply using all the senses. Not just one or two. So if someone with a snow sled, pair of skis, a four wheeler or bike calls and asks do you want to blah blah…the answer is sure. And one more healthy excuse to be outdoors any season for any reason in Maine. Urban areas are the reverse. Having to hide out inside to escape the crowds, mobs. Or head rooftop for the break from all those intense, not always everything’s rosy, such happy camper people. The only option for any degree of space, solitude unless you can hold on until you run away to Maine next.

I know I know if you have not been to Maine, you have been told by someone that has not as well that you should watch out for polar bears, expect igloos.

Given a version of the Maine weather, climate that is out of whack. Not the way it rolls here. NOooooo… that depiction, description is the North or South Pole like existence. Maine is not in the Artic Circle. So sorry, no polar bears in Maine. Lots of Maine farm animals, wildlife infested woods happen all day long though. And fish rich waterfront recreational options galore. That never end.

More Maine Farm Animals, Nature’s Wildlife, Not People.

So whenever you can get away, head to Maine. Plan to be outdoors, dressed for the season. Filling your lungs with fresh Maine clean air. Feeling the warmth of sunshine combined with cobalt blue overhead. Your eyes wide open and taking in your fill of the star loaded array arranged against black velvet night skies. Brilliant Maine fall foliage happens. Along with a buffet of lush greens of a zillion shades appearing, surrounding, entertaining.

It is not like this in many other places. Maine is the way life used to be elsewhere.

Sneak a peak. Wander up anytime you can clear the busy schedule. And the next time there won’t have to be any arm twisting. You need to come to Maine. For the peace of mind, the scenery and down to Earth friendly people. Thanks for following our Me In Maine blog posts. Learning about being on the edge, as close as you can get to Heaven on Earth.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

August 23, 2013
August In Maine, Cooler Ends Of The Day, Hint Of What’s Ahead.

MAINE | Clarity, Awareness, Being Able To Hear Yourself Think Happens Here.

Maine August weather today predicted to bring 88 degree temperatures.

The sunny skies overhead are the perfect backdrop for outdoor time on your knees in flower beds. In gardens, strawberry, blueberry patches. Collecting the ingredients for home made pies. Hand crafted with lots of love and only freshest natural ingredients. Another slice of strawberry rhubarb pie…yes please. Better load, top it with just one scoop of the home made vanilla ice cream on this second slab though.

The change of Maine climate temperature on the ends of the day as summer living marches on signals a new phase, shift. Low lying mist cotton ball pockets blanket the level to rolling foothills, waterfront regions.

The full moon orb overhead adds to the seasoning of being alive, wandering around outside in Maine’s vast areas of less people, more bold scenery, timid wildlife.

The air crispness is fresh, alive and steps up the awareness, clarity of a person a few notches. With just a hint, smidgen of the next season that Jack Frost has the lead role in that is over the next horizon. And swish swish of the downhill and cross country snow skiing that happens on top of that. As the carousel of Maine’s four seasons spin, play on in the background.

When you hike, bike up a Maine hill, mountain or paddle around sitting low in a lake or sea kayak, you listen. Without words being spoken. The setting doing all the talking, communication. You feel, sense and just know things that the hurry scurry of earlier life’s obligations can shelf, postpone. Or end up in the back of a closed dark drawer. Ripening like green tomatoes plucked from the garden that you wish to make red the natural patient way.

The Drifters had a song about “Up On The Roof” and in a city.

The only place to get above the rattle and hum of the city’s RPMs was topside. To take a break from all the up way way too close, in your face wall to wall mob of people. The endless stream of don’t know one soul of the coming at you in all directions serious, not wearing a smile. “Hit the roof” was the only city escape instant evacuation option to check out momentarily. To hear yourself think. Gain perspective.

Serious, worrisome folks the norm take away. Sensed from the first glance impression. Like asteroids rushing past. Many carrying blank painful expressions. All in one life and death, do or die major hurry. To keep up. To get some place they are not in now. To other parts of the city. The urban concrete jungle. Where so much time is spent stuck, stalled, sandbarred.

Desperately trying to avoid other people is fruitless. Bumping, pushed into their personal air space and yours being invaded. Because of just the sheer numbers, waves, herds the downside of daily survival in a city. Where you don’t see the night sky stars, moon for the smog, light pollution. I am glad to be alive, living in Maine. Just sayin’. So’s you know.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

August 21, 2013
I Hear The Train A Comin’…(Drum And Bass Thumping, Plucking) Down The Maine Railroad Track….

I Hear The Train A Comin’..Runnin’ Down The Tracks …(Cue The Johnny Cash Song)

Back in 1960, the peak of 50,000 railroad cars on the Bangor and Aroostook Railroad happened for shipping potatoes to the market.

To get to produce centers in the cities where the Maine spuds in all sizes of bag weights, in fewer varieties than today needed to show up. Shipped by rail. A Maine potato house crew on this end putting up the orders to ship to market. By hand carrying or with a dolly truck piled up going back and forth into a railroad car. Parked at the potato house railroad siding, slowly row on top of row filling up the train car. Stacked, racked, packed. Sheltered from the northeast blowing winter winds with a shroud, canvas canopy to seal out the weather elements between country potato house and the parked lone railroad car.

Then a methanol heater stove lit, the doors and top hatch sealed tightly, locked securely. As one by one the railroad cars get rounded up,collected. Backed into by the powerful front end of a freight not passenger train. Hooked up safely with life support lines attached. Arranged in a single file line to follow the diesel engine to the produce market. Hopefully.

Sometimes the insulated freight car of golden Maine potatoes riding in ten, twenty, fifty or hundred pound bags or sacks did not make it to the destination on the paperwork.

Rut rho, one potato, two potato and hey? Now where did that third potato load of railroad BAR car of spuds disappear to? It was right (pointing to the USA map red thumb pin) here a day ago. Hmmmm, now isn’t that curious? “Wouldn’t that cramp your grandmother” as close to a swear, curse as my Mom would have sputtered over the MIA load.

Eventually the missing on radar car lost and found on a side spur in Texas. A very hot, dry climate area like say near Brownsville, Texas. Before opening the door, put your coat, glove over your mouth and approach cautiously. Breathe through your open mouth. Or apply Vicks vapor rub to your upper lip to quell the stench. The blast putrid smell of rotten potatoes that will never end up on the family supper table are ruined. Hits you when its “open sesame” time to unlock the once precious cargo.

FACT: Trailer trucks could provide overnight, just in time perishable loads for the inventory deliveries. Trains could not.

And in the early 1960’s the Interstate systems, toll highways were coming on line like wildfire. To connect the consuming markets with the far away breadbasket growing areas of the nation. Use of trains waned. Although efficient, practical just could not stand up to the service provided by the eighteen wheeler. (Air horn toot toot sound) That’s a big ten four good buddy. Got your ears on? (Radio static, then silence sound). I knew a lawyer for the BAR railroad who called truckers gypsies, bandits. Overnight, service providing road warriors, freight jockeys, yes they are.

My Dad and Mom, their four boys raised Maine farm potatoes.

Bought other Maine farmer’s spud field loads too. Were shippers, a broker for the golden nuggets dug from the ground in Aroostook County. And in 1963 bought a White cab over trailer truck, a 1957 Trailmobile box to hook to, head down the US highway. Through the Haynesville Woods. Hauling loads of spuds to Boston, Hartford, New York City produce markets mostly. Providing David nimble, efficient door to door, overnight service that slower, longer Goliath trains could not.

As a little kid, it was fun like my three older brothers to take a trip to the big city markets. Riding shot gun on a trailer truck trip in my parents trucking company called “Prem Pak”. Which stood for Premium Packaging. Leaving at night, in one of the ten trailer trucks launched from the barn turned terminal on the Maine family farm. To arrive at market in the early mornings. Catching a few hours sleep, cat napping before heading a large dark skinned hand rap the driver’s door to wake everyone up. Sit up straight. To guide the load of potatoes, back up the reefer into the narrow slot at the designated loading dock numbered door.

To help unload spuds, to crank your head around as the pallet of potatoes is piled, stack and hand jacked.

To creak, easy does it to keep it balanced and from avalanching, tipping over, spilling. Slowly pulled, pushed and maneuvered to the designated drop point. Seeing other loads of fruit and produce and even flowers at the beehive of activity, industry doing the same. But with Florida grapefruits not just potatoes. Loads of grapes and bananas from who knows where. Watch out for the black widows, tarantulas, spiders you hope someone gassed for before shipment of those items.

The smells, noises, habits of the many languaged people of the city and hurry scurry. Horns blaring, many dialects all foreign to a little kid from Maine. Words, expressions, syllables going in and out of the ears on the sides of my head. As brown eyes watched, did not talk and saw a completely different landscape than small town Houlton Maine, Aroostook County. Deep in the not so safe market area of a huge city. Hang on to your chain drive wallet Mister Trucker Man. Stay on your toes minding your P’s and Q’s.

Then high tailing it home to my own bed, not a truck sleeper with the girlie magazines hiding under the mattress. A pine tree air freshener swinging over the fan that defrosted the inside of the large flat windshield with air activated large wipers. As the eight track with Buck Owens and the Buckaroos wails. Patsy Cline is singing about walking after midnight or being crazy for loving you. As we head out into the night, climbing the hills and dales back to Northern Maine to do it again.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

August 18, 2013