Every time we visit Monhegan Island there is something new to discover.

Our family members save nickels, dimes, quarters, returnable “CLYNK” money and tooth fairy deposits for a wonderful week rental at the Wik Wak cottage on the western shore overlooking Manana Island. It’s our bliss refill.

I was quite shocked recently to read some considerable information regarding the number of children and families in our county without enough to eat. It's very disturbing.

A few years back I was asked to provide visuals for a local group who put together bags of groceries for area families. The group “Food for Thought” met in the basement of what used to be St. Andrews Hospital to package foods for distribution throughout the region. I was shocked then, too. We have always been so fortunate. I had never given much thought to the lack of food for anyone here. That gang did a great job and really educated me about the local need for support.

Over the 45+ years we've lived in the region I've had the distinct honor of photographing at many area shipyards and boat-building facilities. The places I have photographed vary in complexity and size, from back yard outdoor set-ups to some of the largest companies in the area. Places like, Goudy & Stevens, Hodgdon's, Washburn & Doughty, Jones, Nutt, and Sample’s. Other smaller but no less impressive shops were at Mr. Blaney's, Roscoe Rand, and Chetley Rittall, to name a few. What I did learn through my boat building observation and recording is that boats can crop up almost anywhere, with the right amount of ingenuity and skill. It has been an amazing run.

Many thanks to Barbara Hill Freeman and the Boothbay Register for the thorough and positive review of my new Around Boothbay Harbor 2021 Calendar. You can read the full review here, and you can order a calendar of your very own, or gift one to someone, by clicking here.

Thank you!

I sent this week’s adventure photo to a friend in Germany. We met on a flight from Paris to Cameroon. Anette was hoping to adopt a child from an orphanage near Douala. I was doing some photography with Dr. Patricia Toro and the Mailman School at Columbia University reestablished medical clinics in sub Saharan Africa. Anette and I had a lot of time to talk on the flight.

I met my B-flat metal clarinet in junior high school. We had a very active love/hate relationship. I loved the sounds, hated to practice. My music career didn’t last long.

This is a photo of a familiar face around the Tri Village community!

Everyone knows Rusty Court. Even people who don't know Rusty, know of him. He is a high profile individual. Let me count the ways.

It’s been quite some time since a visit to Cape Newagen was much more than an exercise in zen renewal. Standing on the end of the town pier, looking out across the harbor toward Seguin is a truly spiritual experience any day of the week, any time of the year. So when I got an invitation to visit with Gary Snowman at his under renovation cottage at water's edge, I was feeling pretty pleased.

Anna Christina has been interested in the natural healing properties of alternative medicinals since she was a very young child. This was due, in large part, to a variety of childhood ailments. Anna was not a happy camper due to an abundance of physical challenges, and, through a keen eye for observation, the problems of others. In addition to needing help for herself, she always wanted to help other people.

Before trailing off into the tall grass in search of new adventures, I wanted to share a tiny bit of post-Father's Day best wishes for dads here and gone. It’s just a small item, please bare with me.

OK ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, its time for this year's obligatory lupine photo.

I know that everyone with an image making device is out there crawling through the pucker brush, transiting the shorelines and hopefully, not trampling over this year's crop of Lupine Lady contributions to the already exceptional beauty of our Maine. For me, this is an annual visual adventure. Where will they come up, what colors will they be, and how many attend the big dance.

Does anyone (other than me) wonder how birds know when the feeders are full? The red squirrels certainly seem to have figured it out! Last year there were very few red squirrels munching at the trough of life. This year, it’s a bumper crop! It’s like, “Your order is ready” at FAT BOYS! They are aggressive and numerous. Fortunately we have one of those spring loaded feeders that the squirrels can’t climb. But they sure can chew their way to stardom trying. Traffic control at our feeders is overwhelming!

It was just about a year ago that we visited Blue Tin Farm on the Cross Point Road in Edgecomb. I knew of the farm and its animals and hoped that Crystal Theall and her family of people and animals would allow us to vist again.

I love the cool pale green of new growth in spring. It sort of represents the refreshing of things and really never shows up for another year. The birch leaves in particular, however the green leaves of our ginkgo are a close second, but later.

We first bumped into the Johanson-Goranson family at Sheepscot Valley Children’s House in Wiscasset, in the early ’90s. Our children, along with a gang of other area youngsters, attended pre-school and a couple elementary school years together there. Our daughter Mae, and Carl Johanson, started out around the same time and ironically, ended up together years later at Bennington College in Vermont, in the theatre and acting program.

Before I step out into traffic today with my weekly adventure, I'd like to comment about an evolving situation in our community.

For many many years I have visited our local business establishments with little or no concern and increasing recognition. Recently it occurred to me that I look like many people and am unrecognizable.

Over the years I have owned and used many chainsaws. In my younger years, the metal of choice was either Homelite or McCulloch. The McCulloch saw was enormous, heavy and loud with a bar that was over two feet long. It was like lugging a small Evinrude outboard through the woods. But, once you set that baby on a log, it was so heavy, you needn’t do anything but wait for it to finish the cut. No pressure needed. Don’t get it bound up though, it --- took a backhoe to dislodge.

Delores “Lola” deHoyos O’Byrne.

Without even knowing Lola, her “official” name, to me, was a bit of a mystery. Quite a combination of vowels, for all you English teachers out there. When I first heard her name I couldn’t help but wonder where on Earth had this woman come from. And you know, even now, as she has made the big turn, I’m not sure I know where Lola came from.

When I was a kid growing up in the central Pennsylvania land of hunters, my father and I would sometimes head off into the woods in search of elusive wild things to shoot at. Dad used to joke that our rigorous excursions were more like exercise programs for regional wildlife than actual success filled killing missions. I’m not sure we ever actually “hit” much of what we shot at, excepting the occasional hemlock tree or mountain laurel bush. We often laughed on our drives home about what the woods' animals must be saying to each other as we entered their domain. Something perhaps like, “Oh boy, here comes Goober and Festus again, let’s get ready to rumble. These turkeys couldn't hit the broad side of a barn door.”

For anyone who reads this column you shouldn’t be surprised by my inability to stay on task for very long. I do have a tendency to wander. Well, this week’s adventure will confirm any suspicions you might have regarding my distractability. Not like Damariscove or Eastern Egg Rock distracted. We’re talking California boys and girls. So set your GPS for the gold rush days and settle in. I hope you will find this interesting.