From my earliest time in Maine, I have been fascinated by the seas around us. Where I grew up, in the central Appalachians of Pennsylvania coal country, nothing compared to the magnificence that surrounds us here on the Boothbay peninsula. We had a few lakes and the West branch of the Susquehanna River, but there was not a view that compared to the endless waters of the Atlantic.

Well, we finally made it! After grinding through from the eight and three quarter hour shortest day in December, we arrive, this week, at about 12 hours of daylight! The sunset is almost at 7 p.m. This is so helpful for those of us who are challenged by the lack of daylight. It's a good sign of things to come.

Back in the early ’70s, I was teaching in a fairly large public high school in New Jersey, just outside New York City. The school had a growing new population from diverse backgrounds, notably Haitian. These young people, and their families, in many cases, were fleeing the tyrannical rule of Papa Doc Duvalier. Their English language skills were quite limited. In most instances they spoke French and the more common and universal language of their native country, Haitian Creole. Faculty and administration needed help as we tried to integrate concepts and skills that would help the new students adjust and communicate. This, as you might imagine, was not an easy task and one for which there had been little planning.

I have photographed with folks at Bigelow Lab from the very early days with the Yentsch founders.

Over the years, from time to time, I would be called upon to record new developments and expanding services for a variety of scientific subjects. The opportunity to meet and work with extraordinary individuals came with the territory. It was a great pleasure to be invited to help showcase some of the research projects which, for the most part, were way above my pay grade and totally fascinating. The collection of talented individuals from all over the world was, and is, amazing.

It was probably not one of my better decisions!

In the early 80s, approximately, being a bit more adventuresome at the time, I decided to visit Monhegan Island for the Jan. 1 “Trap Day.” As you may well imagine, January anytime on an island off the coast of Maine is not the “Vacationland” we are now promoted to be! At that time in my photo career, this was a challenge I could not resist. And, truth be known, I had been offered an open invitation by Doug and Harry Odom to visit anytime.

Every once in a while, my brain goes on sabbatical. It seems to have a mind of its own which is a bit unsettling when trying to prepare a regularly scheduled column for the newspaper, among other things. I’m not sure if this is caused by some neurological short circuit or if it has to do with too many other things floating about in my head. Let’s hope it is the latter please.

Please know that I do not judge. I try, as best I can, to not criticize. I know that no one is perfect. Being right all the time is clearly not possible. But, three to five inches, or four to six inches were predicted for our recent snowfall. Without any axes to grind or truths to be altered, the snow pile at the end of our driveway tells a slightly different story. 

Back in the late '70s when George McEvoy, Clem Brewer and Dan DeRepentigny owned the Tugboat Inn, I worked as the night cleanup person for the kitchen and the dining room. At that time, the dining room, which is now all guest rooms, stretched the length of the big building that extends out over the water. It was a pretty big space that could seat a lot of people and, at the same time, create significant mess for my vacuum. The waitstaff who managed that space were an extraordinary group of women who served food and turned tables with superior finesse.

It was so warm on Sunday, Jan. 19, that there were bugs swarming outside the living room window. The sunlight was strong and there was no wind at all so it seemed even warmer than the 40 degree reading on the kitchen wall digital thermometer that warns us of water freeze ups!