The Maine
An artful dialogue about the wonders of the state.

African Night Train

photo, text, and coffee by Dan Dishner

Africa Night Train

Good Morning to you all from the Coast of Maine. I can’t believe how fast the month of September goes. Coffee of the Day is African Night Train, a dark roast with beans from Ethiopia, Burundi, and one other African country and a small portion of medium roasted beans to give the roast a little kick. A great cup of coffee. Be safe out there and enjoy the day. – Dan

African Night Train, all aboard. This roast will punch your ticket.

The Needs Of The Spirit

photograph by David Wright

Processed with VSCOcam with g3 preset

The needs of the spirit are as crucial to health
as those individual organs which make up the body.

Florence Nightingale

Tuesday 207

painting by Jessica Ives

wherethetroutare

Charlie Meyers writes in The Little Red Book Of Fly Fishing

While paying attention to color and camouflage is a benefit under any light condition, it works even better if an angler can find a casting position in the shade. All other things being equal, choose to fish the shady side of the stream to avoid spooking trout. Also consider that trout don’t like looking up into the sun, so most of their rises to dry flies are likely in shady spots. Trout are also less likely to spot the fraud in the fly with the diminished light.

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Every Tuesday The Maine will post a new painting by Jessica Ives. These small works, all 4 x 4 inches on cradled birchwood panels, will be concurrently listed for auction on dailypaintworks.com, a fantastic platform designed by artists, for artists. View the auction for this painting here, or simply click on the image above.

Tuesday 207 paintings are exclusive to The Maine. They depict the land, the light and the people that make this state a state of wonder. Visit the growing gallery of Tuesday 207 paintings here.

Jessica is the editor of The Maine and writes occasionally as The Outsider.

Sebasco

via tons of land

sebasco

Catch A Crab & Gorm

an excerpt from Maine Lingo: Boiled Owls, Billdads, & Wazzats by John Gould

CATCH A CRAB  To mishandle oars while rowing so that there is a splash of water. Mainers transfer the term to any mistake, error, bungling, or gory miscue.

GORM  Pronounced gawm. A favorite Maine word of delightfully obscure origin meaning to behave in a stupid, awkward manner. It is also a noun: a clumsy oaf. And an adjective: gormy and gorming. The word and its derivatives are heard in several English dialects and also in Tennessee, but not with the nuances of Maine. In England, they have the word gormless, which means nothing to a Mainer. Gorm and its derivatives have two meanings: one, “to behave in a stupid manner, to stare or gape”; the other, “to smudge or smear, especially with something sticky or greasy.” Mainers use gorm both ways. A boy with two left hands is a gorm; but a recipe for red-flannel hash says to “mix it loose but not gormy.” A mother may call at her son, “Get your big gormin’ hands out o’ that cookie jar!” A man who bungles a job has gormed it. Anybody who stumbles over his own feet is gormy. The illustrative colloquy runs thus:

“Ain’t he the boy broke your plow, smashed your cart, lost the 40-quart can down the well, and got your Edie in a family way?”

“Ayeh.”

Gormy cuss, ain’t he?”

A Postcard Home

postcard designed and sent by Margaret Rizzio

Margaret Rizzio2

Margaret Rizzio3

Maine + New York

exhibition by Susan Williams

susanwilliams

Work from Susan’s Approach series, all 18″ x 24″ oils on mylar. On view today, and through the end of the month by appointment or chance.

Susan Williams2

Susan Williams1

It is beauty that magnetized the contemplative, and it is the duty of the contemplative to give beauty away so that the rest of the world may, in the midst of squalor, ugliness, and pain, remember that beauty is possible.
– Sr. Joan Chittister

Maine Maritime Academy, Castine, Maine; August 4, 2014 (Beachcombing series No.79)

photographs and text by Jennifer Steen Booher

©Jennifer Steen Booher

The Maine State 420 Championships were in Castine last week (a 420 is a kind of sailboat), and my son was competing, so I spent a day on the waterfront, beachcombing and watching the races from afar. The day started out in the low 70s, cloudy and humid with a very light breeze from the southwest. Fortunately for the sailors, the wind picked up, the sun came came out, and it turned into a glorious summer day. The races were organized at Maine Maritime Academy, which is right next to the Town Dock, and there was a nice little wooden stairway to the beach from their parking lot, which you can just see at the bottom of the photo below (taken from the rooftop patio at MMA.)

©Jennifer Steen Booher

See the low walls running perpendicular to the beach? You just don’t see that on Mount Desert Island. I guess people in Castine are more defensive of their turf. One cool thing you can see in this photo is the way the walls affect the motion of the water across the beach. Look at the point where the wall meets the shore – you can see a lighter triangle there. That’s the line of the current, roughly 45º to the wall, almost like a shadow. You can see the current has deposited more stones, shells, and seaweed outside of that ‘shadow.’

I did wander past the wall, but it felt uncomfortably like trespassing and I didn’t go far. I was mostly curious about the change in the beach composition. Just past that second wall the shoreline is rocky as far as I could see, and I was trying to figure out why this small portion is sand. It seemed highly unlikely that MMA would import sand onto the beach – it’s an industrial wharf, and this is docked just out of the photo to the left:

©Jennifer Steen Booher

That’s MMA’s training ship, the State of Maine. Even though she was docked, her engines were running, and their deep thrum was the soundtrack to my morning.

©Jennifer Steen Booher

So whence the sand? I know so little about oceanography that for me trying to read the shoreline is like trying be Sherlock Holmes without having written a monograph on 140 kinds of cigarette ash.

By the way, it’s hard to get a sense of how huge that anchor chain is until you have, say, a pair of size 9 feet for scale:

©Jennifer Steen Booher

There were dense patches of shells near the water – mostly Common Periwinkle and Blue Mussel

©Jennifer Steen Booher

with the occasional bit of sea glass:

©Jennifer Steen Booher

Barnacle-monogram on a stone: “EH”

©Jennifer Steen Booher

One reason the sand seems such an anomaly is that the flotsam was very similar to what I find back home on rocky shorelines; the only really unusual thing I found was this Northern Sea Star (Asterias vulgaris) (which was either half-dead or mostly-dead but I put it back in the water anyway because I’m an optimist.) This might be only the third or fourth I’ve found beached in 17 years of beachcombing.

©Jennifer Steen Booher