Fiddlehead Time

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Fiddlehead Time

It's fiddlehead season here. I haven't picked any myself yet, but I'm hoping to venture out foraging this Friday with a good friend that's no stranger to seeking out these vegetative curlicues. ​

I usually prepare them the same way each year: boil, drain, and add a little salt and butter. Easy enough. ​

This recipe is only marginally more complicated and looks like it might be the right level of change for me - a change that is so subtle I enjoy the newness without getting freaked out by how it's different from what I've always known. 

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The 2013 Black Fly Writing Retreat

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The 2013 Black Fly Writing Retreat

I've been away. It sounds so classy. ​

I attended the Black Fly Writing Retreat in Grand Lake Stream over the past weekend. While there, I met some incredible people and was able to sit unhurried by the lake in the middle of the day.

​I only allowed myself one full hour of photography during the weekend, besides a random shot of groups here and there. I knew I had to write, because I'd set my mind to it and there was something to write about all over the place. 

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Have a listen to this song about the North Pond Hermit

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Have a listen to this song about the North Pond Hermit

You may have heard of him, the North Pond Hermit. A couple weeks ago, he was arrested by Maine law enforcement on burglary charges, after the police caught him on surveillance stealing from a camp in the Maine woods.

The North Pond Hermit remained unidentified until then, as locals had coined the term to describe the individual they suspected was robbing their camps but the police hadn't found who was responsible. Now the nickname has a face, one that prison staff say is friendly, smiling and warm. (Okay, the photo they took of him in jail doesn't look very smiley, but the news reports say he's smiley.)


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Finding power in planting

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Finding power in planting

At the end of March, Mr. UpCountry and I started some of our seeds. We divvied up our packs based on whether we should transplant them into the garden or directly seed them. Some are waiting, perhaps huddled at the bottom of their seed packets, muttering to each other about how those hot peppers are getting all the attention.​

I reap a figurative ton of benefits from planting seeds far before I pick their fruit. Watching seedlings grow in the basement is a joy shared by myself and some of my friends (both near and far). ​

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Canadian painter Lawren Harris and a giveaway

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Canadian painter Lawren Harris and a giveaway

I bought a book about Lawren Harris about a month ago, but not because I knew who he was. I bought the book, titled "Lawren Harris: An Introduction to His Life and Art," because it grabbed my attention with its front cover, which reminded me of some homes in northern Maine. After flipping through the book in the store, I realized this Lawren Harris fellow and I were going to get along just fine.

Lawren Harris was a Canadian painter, born in 1885, who turned the love of his land into paintings that are currently selling with price tags of two to three million dollars. ​(New goal, maybe? Turn my love of land into two to three million dollars?)

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