Listen, The Snow Is Falling*

For an artist to craft something so evocative that when you hear it, read it, see it, you immediately know what their performance/piece/painting/picture represents is remarkable and a gift that they bring to us via their art.

Galaxie 500 were a band with a devoted following during the late 1980s/early 1990s within indie music’s insular community. This three-piece played what I’d call “slowcore” and had an obvious affinity for The Velvet Underground.

The band released three studio albums between 1987 and 1991 when they split apart: Dean Wareham off to Luna and Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang forming Damon & Naomi, focusing on dream pop splendor. Both post-Galaxie acts have remained active and viable since the three members went their separate ways.

Back of Galaxie 500’s “This Is Our Music” record jacket (Rough Trade, 1990)

When I’m home on Thursdays, I like to stream WFMU’s “This Is the Modern World With Trouble” program. Her station profile describe what she plays as “a viking ship appears on the horizon, a likeness of Loretta Lynn carved into its bow. Rare birds flock together to sing Francoise Hardy as soul hits. A sunset of blips and bleeps fills the air.” Continue reading

Not Quite As Dark

It’s been awhile since I felt excitement coming home after work. No, I’m not sick of my wife of 34 years, and I have no intention of parting ways.

Actually, for the past several years, I’m usually the one who has been working at home, or coming home long before Mary arrives from her job, or evening workout with SheJAMS.

I adore the cat we added to our home slightly more than a year ago. Lucy is always happy to see me, whenever I return.

This time of year, when I’ve put away my umpiring gear (and volleyball referee’s whistle), as well as hung up the road bike for the season, the approach of darkness has elicited something akin to that claustrophobic feeling that makes breathing difficult.

We are now in week two in our new house. As we unpack the assorted boxes and crates and begin rearranging things into something that feels like home again, returning home after work elicits anticipation and a thrill as I head towards our place by the cove.

Yes, December is the darkest month, but this year, it doesn’t seem as bleak as years past. A new town and a new place to call “home” has a lot to do with that.

Exit Summer

Summer is fading. In some ways, it seems as though summer, at least the ones I remember as a kid—never arrived. You know the ones—full of friends, adventures—seemingly endless in duration.

I can always tell when summer begins getting antsy, commencing packing up the cottage,readying to return to wherever she goes until the following year in late May and early June. That’s when she’ll return for a few short visits, tidying up the seasonal digs, before arriving in glory in July. Then, if lucky, summer has a solid 6-8 week run, offering endless options and bliss.

With the release of another Farmers’ Almanac, local news directors all trotted out stock images and file video reminding us of last year’s snowy winter. If local TV news is anything, it is predictable. That was the big story for Monday. Continue reading

Season to Season

One of these days, it’s going to start feeling like the season called spring that began last Friday. Not only hasn’t it been very warm over the past few days, the winds of March have made it feel like we’re still in the grip of winter’s icy claws. Of course, this stretch of March has some checkered history.

Actually, Saturday wasn’t too bad. Compared to Sunday’s wind-tunnel-of-a-day, the upper 30s made my run in the morning quite pleasant. Miss Mary actually coaxed me out for a 5-miler. Knock on wood, my leg and hip issues from last year at this time seem to be in my rearview mirror.

I’m sure it won’t be long before I can put away my heavy field coat, ax, and not spend part of each day chopping and lugging firewood to fill the wood box. I’ll be able put my fire-building skills away, too—save for an occasional fire in the ole’ fire pit this summer.

May flowers

April showers will give way to May flowers.

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Perpective Requires Time and Distance

Fall Foliage-Rangeley Lake in October.

Fall Foliage-Rangeley Lake in October.

Seeing contrasts and picking out patterns often requires time and distance from the object. Perspective is often missing in the short-term. Comparisons and even side-by-sides appear strikingly different 10 months later, versus one day later.

Sometimes life presents vivid examples—we just require months (and even years) to recognize them.

Coming to the same place (Rangeley) every other week for 10 months has allowed me to observe this in snapshots of the natural world. Continue reading

Summer’s Last Hurrah

I’m not sure you can truly appreciate a late September weekend like the one we just had, unless you’ve lived through a couple of interminable winters similar to last year’s. Perhaps, but I doubt it.

Erica's Seafood--the best lobster roll in Maine? Quite possibly.

Erica’s Seafood–the best lobster roll in Maine? Quite possibly.

A hasty, last minute decision to conclude our 2014 lobster roll campaign resulted in a 25-mile Sunday drive down the South Harpswell side of the peninsula, and a final tasting of succulent lobster meat, stuffed into a buttered roll at Erica’s Seafood. Continue reading

Weekends in July

This past weekend was a busy one. There was an abundance of activity happening at our house, and across the river, in the ole’ hometown.

Friday night was the Moxie Recipe Contest. My sister again choreographed a cook-off that had moxie, with dishes enhanced with Moxie, the distinctly different soft drink that’s followed with cult-like fervor here in New England. If you missed it, you can read one of the more unique articles about the evening written by Mark LaFlamme, intrepid Sun-Journal reporter.

Giving instructions to the Moxie Recipe Contest jury.

Giving instructions to the Moxie Recipe Contest jury.

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Spring’s Arrival

A month ago, some of us had our doubts that spring would ever arrive. As the calendar turned from April into May, those concerns have abated.

In Maine, the transition from snow and cold, to something more tolerable happens rapidly, as if someone flipped a switch. In a mere week’s time, the temperatures have jumped 20 degrees, the grass is greening, crocuses are in bloom, and school-based baseball is in full swing. Continue reading