Northern Lights

Last night we had a storm. I didn't know, I only know that I woke at 11:30 last night, looked out the window and the sky was glowing. Just a faint green glow, if you stared at it, you thought you might see a curtain, but the camera showed more. 

And so I braced my camera on the windowsill, clicked the shutter and hoped for the best.

I'm not a tourist, I live here.

In all endeavors of life, it does help to keep a little bit of humor  with you.

I notice when people from away come for a weekend or a week, the outside light usually stays on all night. Why? For the raccoons and skunks? To annoy the neighbors? Are you people scared if the dark?
Once, some people left their light on for an extended period of time. Said light shone into my normally very dark room for that time. It was annoying. It went out. Enough said.

As I look up at my calendar, I see it is now April. The town is and has been very quiet for about 2 weeks. The snowmobilers and most of the skiers have gone, and the summer complaints still have a few months before they start to harass us. Or entertain us. You see, it's all a matter of how you look at it.

With spring I'll be getting out more and hopefully reviving this blog. I have some ideas for some projects and well  we will have to see just how much fun I get get into, so hang in there.

A summer evening

It's snowing out.  But this time we are supposed to have more snow than our daily dustings of late. We shall see.  As I haven't been out other than to walk the dog due to a cold, my mind was wandering back to  several years ago. The summer.  It had been a hot day, and I had wanted to float down a river. Needed to. It's as simple as that.  Now I don't always do the easiest things, some of what I do can quietly be called a sufferfest. I have a few friends that can back me up on that. They can also question my sanity, but hey, we have fun.

So early evening  I took a small raft, walked it up 2 miles of dirt roads, to the Kennebago River. I had in mind a float down the section from the bridge on  Grant's Camp Rd to Steep Bank Pool. It was mid-summer and the water level low. Remember that, it comes back to bit me.   I put the raft in the river, hopped in and didn't move. I didn't move a lot.  The rocks bumping my butt was not reassuring. I walked.

It's not hard to walk down a river. It's probably one of the more enjoyable things in life, but with time beginning to fly, the earth rapidly turning towards night, it becomes more of a concern. I thought floating I could cover the 2 miles (probably more due to the turns) before sunset.  Those rocks bumping along my backside every time I hopped back in the raft  was getting real old.

The sun set, and the northern summer twilight did it's magic.  I floated and walked on down the river. The water murmurings, it's language,  makes you think, relax.   I kept trying to judge my location , kept going back to my mental map, always trying to gauge my speed with where I needed to be before it got too dark.  The dark was winning.

Coyotes started howling about 100 yards downstream from me.  By this time you wouldn't have been able to read a paper. I still had a half mile to go.  Not a soul was on the river, the sandbars I stopped only showed moose tracks. It was quiet.

And before I know it, I'm back at my jeep, dripping wet,waving some mosquitoes away, and packing up. I look up and about 100 feet away is a bull moose watching me. It was dark.  I can't wait to do it again.

Poem and Past

Machiasport

On a pier overlooking the water, the sun coming up, fishing boats waiting.
The bay is calm, on an outgoing tide.

Soon there will be the hum of a diesel engine, and the shoreline drifting past.
Going to work. East into the sun.
Spruce trees, white houses, and distant isles mark the trip seaward.
Watching gulls peering over the side of a boat, and fishermen in their skiffs starting their day.


Leaving Machiasport behind, and saying good morning to Bucks Harbor and Starboard Island and the ocean.

On a boat from Machiasport one November morning,heading out  to one of the ocean pens to harvest some salmon for eggs and milt.  Up before sunrise, stopping at Dunkin Donuts for breakfast, then getting to the boat. Xtratuffs on, raingear, watching the tide. Lots of images are flashing through my mind.


I worked at a salmon hatchery for a aquaculture company, as a hatchery technician, which truth be told I cleaned fish tanks, feed fish, weighed them and watched them. I can say I've caught more Atlantic Salmon than most flyfisherman could ever imagine.  


In some ways it was a perfect job,working with fish, watching them for hours. But it also had some bad stuff too. Being wet and cold for most of the time was the biggest.  But getting out and going over to Embden and Bingham, Machias. Seeing things most people never see, doing things most people couldn't imagine.

New T-shirt!

A while ago I worked up a design for Ted over at Beetles in the Bush. With the way the past year went, I forgot about it, and then last week I finally woke up and sent it to him.  I have to admit they look purty darn good, so go to over there  and get yourself one.
T-shirts at Beetles in the Bush

Always look out your windows

Being thankful

This puts everything into a different light. Take a moment and really think about it.

Source The Horse's Mouth