We are relaxing in Maine. We intended to head farther north to the Canadian Maritimes, but changed plans after our refrigerator’s death. It had been ailing for months. When we tried to get it fixed in Bend, Oregon, the truly unhelpful folks there dismissed its struggle to keep a healthy temperature as just the nature of RV refrigerators. Their solution was to sell us a little plastic fan for its interior. Thanks. Soon after, the refrigerator died altogether.
Our efforts to get the fridge fixed in Massachusetts did not run smoothly, but it looks like we are making progress. Once they finally looked at it, the service people agreed that the fridge is dead and we now are waiting for parts. In the meantime, we are enjoying a few weeks of down time in Maine. After our frenetic month of visiting and traveling in July, we needed to slow down.
And slow down we have. We have been doing lots of cooking and eating. Everywhere you turn here there are organic farms, farmers’ markets, and aging back-to-the-land baby boomers. We fit right in.
The seafood is spectacular. We had fresh lobster, steamers, and mussels at Miller’s Lobster in Spruce Head for George’s birthday. It is lobster molting season, which means that those with new, or soft, shells are available. They have less meat but are supposed to be tastier. Ours was exquisitely delicious. The view was not bad either.
We have been staying near Camden and exploring the Penobscot Bay area. Camden is a picture-perfect old seaport town, full of money, tourists, and quaint shops and restaurants. It is backed by rocky bluffs—Mounts Battie and Megunticook—and faces the low islands of the Bay.
There are meticulously-kept houses of all architectural styles, mostly from the 1800s, many with huge perennial gardens.
It is molting season for the ducks and geese, as well as the lobsters. They were gathered in the harbor, flapping their wings in the water and preening, producing clumps of down that drifted along the water.
The harbor was full of sailboats and a mega yacht named “Grumpy.”
A lovely old library sits above the harbor, with Edna St. Vincent Millay’s statue on the lawn behind. One of my favorite poets–she lived her early years here and in neighboring Rockland.
We are buttoning down for a thunderstorm and may have to change our grilling plans for dinner. It is a tough life.