Category: Uncategorized

Maine’s Space, Beauty Helps Answers Surface, Peace To Happen.

Maine’s Jaw Dropping Natural Beauty Is Spell Binding. Heart Pounding.

You are heading north on US Rt 2A through the Haynesville Maine woods made famous by Dick Curliss.

The patched eye country singer from Fort Fairfield Maine. With the song about there being a tombstone every mile through that lonely stretch of Maine deer, wildlife infested woods.

You are tired, driving a log truck and come up on a wreck.

An accident where you know the old man in the convertible Volkswagen Beetle has to be dead. Without a pulse. And after confirmation of that fact as the first on the scene of the Maine highway accident, your attention turns to the other half of the wreck equation. The truck driver that hit the Bug driver head on is hard to understand. But alive, bleeding, badly hurt. And mumbling about biting off the end of his tongue in the two vehicle collision in Maine town of just over 100 full time residents.

You bee line for higher elevation. Shout, call in for help from the next hill on your truck radio. Go back and wait for first responders to arrive. As you look around. The scene hits you, affects you. Does not get forgotten. But later in life you witness another horrible accident. A small grading bulldozer that is leveling gravel inside a B Road in Houlton Maine barn.

On the McGillicuddy farm where the small berm going into the barn ground leveling cants the back of the bulldozer up sharply. Just as the front blade end of the machine drops, dips suddenly. The bulldozer lacks a cage, headache bar or protective canopy top. The young operator is found dying as the same person witnessing the Haynesville accident is first on the scene, the gory event. With a helpless nothing he can do. That will never leave him and stay vivid in his mind for years to come.

As if that was not enough black clouds of misery to drift over a person’s life, the same man is the first to discover his father in law in the basement of his house. Dead. A self inflicted gun shot with the son in law’s rifle. Why? The suicide of someone you know closely and having the heart wrenching task of letting the rest of the family know what you found after work today. And wondering how to soften the blow when there is nothing good to report. And suddenly lost for an appetite for supper you had when you tooled into the yard, hopped out of the pickup at the end of a hard work day.

You are suppose to count your blessings.

Keep your eye on your own paper and work hard for the greater good. To raise a family, support yourself with an honest living. But the events that happen with casual speed, right on time to some people make you wonder how come them? Or to brace yourself that the pendulum will swing in your direction. That it could happen to you. Bad things to good people that can question folks with little, tittering, fleeting faith. That are fair weather Christians. That yank back the wheel and abandon their faith when challenged, needed most.

The same gentlemen that is sensitive, kind, sociable but who’s presence in a room is reserved, laid back. Anything but a grand stander or show off, cocky. Has been struggling with cancer. In his late 50’s and with pain that you know is present but not discussed, shared in any way to burden another. To elicit pity or empathy for him because he is not one to need that kind of spotlight attention. Even if deserved or warranted.

The same fellow with a daughter that is thirty. But not on good terms. Because he has been shut off, cut out. And I have to wonder would she if asked about her Dad say he is dead to her? Parental alienation takes its damaging toll. Not just on the kids but the parents, family, everyone. Divorce can be bad business. Because there is a fine line between love and hate.

Like the Vietnam helicopter soldier who usually rides shot gun, occupies the seat next to the pilot who one day is asked by a new in the field recruit.

If he can ride up front today. And does, gets to. Only to be shot in a multiple rounds, a hail storm of ordinance on the first and last ride he will ever take in a camo painted war whirly bird. Why him, why not me something lived with by the veteran soldier who gave up his seat for the one day only fatal ride for the new in the field ground pounder.

It is good to be happy, joyful from within for all your blessings. But the sobering episodes that can and do happen to other people shock you to cling tighter to all the good in your life. Because for some, tragedy, pain, suffering follows them more than others. So how is your life going, anything to be grateful, at peace about?

Maine, spend some time with her four season beauty.

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

May 14, 2013
Happy Mothers Day, The Special Place Mom Holds Long After She’s Gone.

My Mom From A Family Of 11, A Maine Dairy Farm.

My mom has left the Earth but not my heart, those beating inside my three older brothers who grew up on a Maine farm.

Got to know her so well because of all the time we spent in each other’s lives during our childhoods.

Lessons learned working side by side. Living local.

Stories of family members before her shared along with lots of black and white images parked in stacks and stacks of photo albums.

Mother’s Day when your mom has passed away still celebrated, with memories warm, special, cherished.

Recalling my mom today in a mental projector of one by one picture splashes. Seeing her tending large flower gardens and remembering her love of big fat, red breasted Robins that would hop hop hop. Looking for worms, breakfast as she hummed a song, was industrious on her knees. Pulling grass, weeding, transplanting and spacing out seedlings in the many flower beds that populated the large Maine farm lawns around several buildings.

I see my mom cooking up a storm, wearing an apron. The kitchen radio serenading with music. Always music in our household. As she creates to die for fresh, hot trademark locally famous cinnamon buns. Baked beans, turkey dinners. Or playing the piano and the sound of church hymns flooding the home when coming in for a drink of water. Christmas songs played around the holidays and enriched because she was the source of the festive music.

Poor mom lived, ran a household of all men.

Dad, four boys and not much in the way of female companionship or sharing but close to her daughter in laws. The grandchildren that were girls finally so much enjoyment talking about things ladies enjoy. Like me, my brothers when coming up the long driveway after hopping off the Maine school bus. Greeted with swimming home made donuts in hot grease. And a waiting sugar bowl to rol, coat them in. The traditions passed on. Enriching the life of all the next generation of Mooers children.

I miss sitting in the Maine farm house kitchen with the wood stove radiating, the pair of rocking chairs in use. During tea time and home made cookies. Time not just me, my brothers got to enjoy communication with our mom. But grandchildren listening to stories, given old wise sage advice. The same discussions that happened on the front glass porch while in the squeaky glider. She in the wicker rocker. Or sitting outside under a large lilac bush in lawn chairs.

Mom was a reader.

Loved biographies especially. Was a faithful user of Cary Library. Got her children into the habit of enjoying books, reading as we grew up. And made the trip to the granite stone book public depository with the glass second floor in the original building.

Mom worked just as hard as Dad in the farm fields. Behind the scenes in every business endeavor Dad lead her into. She grew up on a dairy farm in Maine which meant there was not a lazy bone to be found in her body. And that tradition of being industrious, have a system, do it right was engrained, passed on to her flock of boys. But her pretty hands with painted nails, her cherished ring collection passed down from Aunt Emma, others showed us another side of my mom. When she dressed up frilly, feminine for church. She was a classic lady. With the pill box, other assortment of hats woman used to wear back in the 1960’s to the house of worship.

Playing the organ at church, teaching Sunday school, reciting scripture that was applied, passed on to the Maine household.

To learn from, lean on during storms in our life. But also to count our blessings, one by one. To be ever grateful. To make sure we gave thanks to God, our creator. Appreciate our lucky spot in life to feel fortunate about. To realize others suffer far more through ordeals we were for some reason are spared. And they were not. Look for the good, make yourself happy and avoid “stinkin’ thinkin’” a constant, practiced by my Mom.

Moderation, being even keeled and steady as she goes. With a healthy diet of the right food, rest, carrying around good thoughts, spiritual “garden tending” inside and out. Practiced, applied daily. With a sense of humor, a keen interest in others and being well read. A thinker, philosopher and one heck of a partner for life to my Dad. Who she accepted, improved, enriched and understood better than he did at times. Not competing, not ridiculed but appreciated for where he shined. And adding her talents for any holes, or areas that he was not so well versed.

Miss you mom but still like my three brothers have conversations, include her in our prayers.

And so so grateful we had the kind of special mom we did. That was so loving, non judgmental and so darn practical, consistent, principled. Her lessons still apply and have caught myself when in a hurry to do a task, stop, smile. Say out loud “Okay mom, you’re right”. And go back and do it the right way. The way I was taught as the way it was supposed to be done. That in the long run was best for me, all concerned.

Talked to a cousin this morning who’s mom, my Aunt is 86 and in assisting living. With a stroke keeping her from being table to talk. And saying when his two sisters came up to visit yesterday, and like they do every three weeks from down country, they have to have a pair. To have conversations she can listen to but not contribute to because of her loss of speech. And my cousin joking with her about her not repeating anything she heard today to any one okay? His mom smiling and accepting the way it is. But glad her children take the time to visit, live in the same state and reach out to stay connected.

Maine, big state, less people, closer tight knit families.

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

May 12, 2013
Coaching Kids Ball, Hockey, Whatever Sport Teams In Maine.

The Coaches, Kids In Small Maine Towns Have All The Fun.

In small town Maine, you know most of the folks around you.

It is true that the village raises your kids and watch the process of growing up more closely. Because everyone in the small population pitches in, has a hand in shaping, molding the next generation.

The excitement, spark, energy of young kids anxious to master a sport that is brand new is fun to coach. No matter now busy or action packed, over booked a business day, in a small Maine town the entire mental landscape can change practically with the snap of your fingers. Quickly the dress shirt, tie and loafers can be whipped off and replaced with shorts, sneakers and a t shirt. To bee line to the local community park. To practice for a game. Or get the kids on your roster prepared for one that gets underway at 5:30 or early evening.

Win or lose there is an ice cream from the local Maine dairy bar waiting.

To enjoy by players, parents, family and coaches. And for discussion about the game or be brought up to date about other events around the community. Who’s sick, what business is expanding or struggling. Other events happening that the same group will move on to help orchestrate in the small Maine town. Where everyone pitches in, is more involved working those events. You have more of a personal stake, skin in the game so to speak in a small Maine town. Working the activities, not just showing up to attend them. Year after year being of local service.

Do you coach sports teams? Help out with musical, church, other school youth events? As your own kids grow up, the tendency to stay involved happens in Maine. Because the core group helping pull them off the events, programs worries if they don’t the events won’t continue. Will collapse, leave a void. And knowing how much your own kids enjoyed the programs spurs you on. And not wanting to deny the same worthwhile treatment for the next crop of kids.

Hockey, little league baseball, soap box derby, basketball, soccer, tennis, 4 H farm programs, girl and boy scouts, church camps, musical and children’s theatre…the list of sports, fine art events to help mentor go on and on in a Maine small town.

Where kids are king, queen and the source of our greatest pride, joy. They are our future. The most worthwhile investment of our time, attention, skill set.

Maine, small town proud, more involved and rewarding living happens here in Vacationland. Come sample her beauty, then just try and stay away. Good luck with that.

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

May 10, 2013
Somebody Asks You What Color Is Maine?

The colors of Maine, pretty spectacular when Jack Frost does his wind up fall brilliant artistry before winter arrives.

But other times of the year in Maine, color abounds. Is a backdrop for the memorable moments outside while enjoying nature. The peace, quiet, serenity. Fall should not hog all the limelight of Maine’s color wheel.

In spring, it is not fair to say everything turns from burnt brown, to just green.

No no, the shades of green are off the chart. Like Maine tourmalines. From fiddlehead green to the variations that lush new buds, sprouts, shoots, tree canopies can have. There is an explosion of green with generous amounts of blue applied from water or sky. And everyday depending on the weather, the season, your mood, it is always a daily special of something new, vibrant, real, alive. The colors of Maine hit differently with every exposure.

Here are some shades of green, blue…I collected in Maine.

Colors, Green And Blue Happen A Lot In A Zillion Shades, Variations In Maine.

Looking For A Snack That Swims. Maine Loons Are Patient, Musical, Beautiful.

The Backdrop Of Maine Green And Blue Expand Around You.

Maine, Try To Describe Which Shade Of Blue, White Happening Here.

A Hint Of Warm Red Brown, Blond Mane With Maine Winter Black, White, Gray.

Not Just One Shade Of Green Describes Maine.

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

May 8, 2013
Big News In A Maine Small Town Travels Fast.

What’s Happening In A Small Maine Town? Just Stop In To A Corner Store, Local Restaurant For A Coffee.

You stop in for a cup of Joe at the local corner store and this just in.

Wayne Quint, a local retired Maine educator, coach, driver’s ed instructor had a lawnmower fire. I know, this is serious. Mulching leaves from last fall and something goes horribly wrong. A spark, or dried debris from bone dry conditions and high fire warning levels makes it a hot story. Leaves too close to a sizzling high temperature exhaust pipe and here we go.

Cries for help heard, Tana McNutt, Tony Hart running to the rescue at Drews Lake. Get the blazing, ailing grass mowing rider away from the wooded property line with a big here we go heave ho. And start bailing water with a pail out of the lake to douse, control the blaze. Three tires burn off quickly, creating a smoke screen and whoa.

There’s your local headline for the day. Old Craftsman mower the group thinks was the brand is toast. Crispy, burnt and the source of the short term excitement. As Wayne goes off to shop for a new rider. Maybe a deal from the closing Maine Potato Grower’s line of Cub Cadets that will be marked way down. To move them out scout. Make them each and every one a blue light special shoppers.

That’s it? No drive by shootings, robberies, gang retaliation for some form of retribution, revenge news to discuss this morning? Sorry.

You are in Maine, the fourth lowest crime state and where I live, chainsaw that statistic that’s pretty impressive right in half again. Less people, more pride and respect and the news gets pretty tame compared to other areas. And how about those Red Sox that found out that better hitting trumps pitching in their loss last night. And thank goodness Emma had her baby, 9 pounds, 7 ounces is one big bouncing new born. And says like many new Moms that’s it. All she wrote. No more storks flying over at her house going to be allowed. Too bumpy a ride with this last one.

Oh, there are other local by lines to report. Danny Emerson paddled his boat up into the fishing grounds on the same lake. While excitement on the North Shore’s burning lawnmower was missed Saturday as he treks to places along Higgins Brook. Where Pastor John Ruth took he, the kids from church many moons ago on the same Oakfield end of the Maine lake. Pole in hand, the hook all baited and ready to wet the line. Try his luck at the fish for supper notion. No fish, strikes. But did come back with a few pounds of fiddleheads. That are not up in all areas yet.

Wait it gets better. Side stories of Twitchy’s GTO that got bought by Dave Haggerty but was promised to to Chris Watson in the group. Talk of local Farmer Buzzy Nightingale starting oat, grain planting next week. Let’s me know to get my power washer ready too. That he was just up by the in town house and office and one big tornado of dust from the Katahdin Trust parking lot clean up was swarming around all the buildings in the neighborhood. Like Pearl Harbor, the winter dirt and dust removal happens early Sunday morning for less attention, grief from others away, out for coffee, at church worship or still sleeping.

That leads to side discussions on what could be privatized for state services and would it save money or not.

To keep a handle on local property taxes that no one wants to see head skyward. Jimmy Ritchie says he likes his new white jeep and was not sure the black leather seats would work out but they have along with the double glass moon roof that is pretty peachy keen on a long trip.

Lou Ann his wife is happy. And talk of when is Larry McCarthy, his bride, Jimmy’s sister in law moving out to Cochran Lake so he can add his two cents into the coffee clutch conversation stream? Knowing he would have some new word about Mark Bossie’s quick, unexpected hospital helicopter ride to Bangor last week. I add he called me to let me know he had not forgotten a new furnace quote on one our listing sales. And relay I was told I would be seeing him next week, back on his feet. New and improved. Raring to go.

The weather in Maine being gorgeous but the need for a little water gets a nod of agreement from the group. And then talk of Jerusha Benn trying out a Toyota, Subaru, Honda and doing her home work with parents. Careful study before buying, then selling her jeep that is getting a few too many miles on it. But a couple comments about the trip to Greenville the same day for a wedding event added in.

Then back through Charleston for some different scenery while out of “The County” on top of just the let’s help make a car deal for the daughter chit chat. If it is a “TY-ota” it will be bought locally. But the Subaru Forester is a strong contender for all wheel drive new rides. Just so’s you know. And one more thing, make sure to “like” Kali Emerson on the Panscofar list of local models for their spring show. As the local favorite who needs our support.

Updates on the Hodgdon Maine fire rebuilding process of the Benn’s Auto Sales and Salvage business is noted. Discussion about the new building, size, who’s hammering away out there weaves into the main conversation. While small breakout groups happen over by the gun case. Around the coffee pot. As folks come in and out of the small country store for smokes, mail, milk, bread, gas and beer when the day of the week, or clock says it’s okay. And all add their contribution to the shooting the breeze before moving on to reach into the job jar or report to work. Mark Drew stocks the red deer jerky container as he rolls in, heads for the soda cooler for some early morning refreshment.

Sometimes back in Vietnam era stories surface, get interjected by Doug Cameron, the store owner while the second cup of coffee is slurped.

And he stays busy, on task doing the morning ritual to open up the corner store that has killer pizzas. Before everyone scatters to get some work, projects done for the day. To not waste daylight. To wander back outside but in a highly caffeinated state. For a spring in the step, a little liquid motivation. But not so much in the system to quite levitate. And say, who won the canoe race down the Meduxnekeag yesterday?

Updates on who’s been sick, how are they doing. Who bought this house, who just retired. How work is going and along with a scan of the store copy of the Bangor Deadly newspaper, now everyone is up to speed. Ready for the day to hit the road. Settle up for the snack, to buy a lottery ticket on the way out.

Small town Maine is more connected, folks more aware of others around them. Life is simpler, down to Earth, real up close and personal. Is it like that where you hang your hat now? Or do you know your neighbor? Do you want to? And is there much trust or more worry about others because letting your guard down is not so common place on your end of this blog post signal?

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

May 5, 2013
Spring Peat Pots On Maine South Side Glass Porch Window Sills.

Raising Vegetables, Fruit, Beef In The Backyard, On The Maine Farm. Spring In The Air.

The seed catalogs for vegetables and fruits started landing in the mail box about a month ago.

Amazing new varieties, strains of super produce to plant in your backyard, raised garden or on the back forty of Maine land. The thoughts of fresh home grown food is a tradition in Maine.

The size of the Maine vegetable, fruit, herb or flower garden is not end all important.

The quality and care the plot of dirt is given is a source of pride though. Tilling, working the soil and removing new rocks the frost elevated to the land surface. Mixing in rich natural nutrients like cow, sheep, horse manure from the farmer down the road or your own fresh supply part of the spring ritual. Not just a case of twenty minutes pawing around in the farm soil of Maine. To ker-plop and bury one handful of seed after another. No no, careful attention to spacing and transplanting the tomatoes. Love and attention to the bell peppers happens along with straight as an arrow rows of onion bulb sets placement.

Scare crows erected. Tin plates on string with a little line slack so the wind, a Maine summer breeze causes enough movement to make predators wary. Plastic owls in the middle of the do it yourself Maine food production also stand guard of the growing operation.

Marigolds planted as side line defense security to from pesky bugs and insects. That don’t particularly get all that warm and fuzzy. Over their odor that helps assure something planted in spring makes it to the fall harvest for winter canning and preserving. For food storage to slowly be dealt out like face down cards on a daily basis. With trips up and down the cellar stairs to access the “shop a little, save a lot” home grown root cellar.

This is a time in Maine where yesterday and the day before newspapers are spread out as a canvas around the household.

So peat pot with Miracle Grow top soil can do their thing in the all important starting line jump start in the food production cycle. Watering, fertilized and provided with care and attention for an infancy. The kitchen and other areas of a Maine home becomes a make shift indoor greenhouse.

Raspberry patches clipped and trimmed to promote faster growth. To spur on, increase the abundance of what the Maine clean air, bright warm sunshine and periodic watering from Mother nature can do working together with rich, fertile soil. To lower the cost of food lovingly prepared, placed on the Maine supper table to enjoy, to survive. To cure household hunger. Ease, whittle away at the store bought food bill size.

Maine strawberries plants that have a four year high production.

That then go astray and become like confederate hit or miss soldiers spotting a Maine field. Small plants parked in evenly spaced holes, grid work that has highways, interstates of straw between them. To keep grass from edging out, passing the plants in height and hurting yield. The “spiders” from the mother plant carefully aligned with the skill of an orthodontist challenged by a mouthful of crooked teeth.

To find them a more secure home between the adult plants. To be “trained” in the delicate relocation process. To assure the thin green IV tube of nutrients flow from headquarters, the parent until the roots of the little fellas tap into the same dirt. And they can sink or swim, do or die feed themselves.

Maine, everything we do is pretty much outdoors, all four seasons. Which increases awareness. More dependency on ourselves to stand on our own two feet. Than the other option of being lazy, un-resourceful and dependent on others for our care and happiness.

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

May 3, 2013