C&G
Seven-fifteen and the fog is back. White early, then lifting, clearing, but now it's back and I can't see the houses on the other side of the park across the street. Coming and going this morning.
Thursday evening there were just four of us here and I grilled steaks on Ray's new grill outside, dragonflies flitting around, coming and going. Reportedly around for 200 million years, they can fly backwards and sideways, up, down, straight at you and veer instantly. I miss watching them early evenings at 7H, in small swarms darting aorund just off our porch, their suppertime, catching and eating mosquitoes and gnats. Which is interesting because up that high we've not been bothered by the mosquitoes and gnats that sometimes made evenings outside intolerable at the Old Place.
Which brings to mind our Maine trip summer 2008, August just before school started, we flew from here to Boston and rented a car, were there just short of two weeks. Linda, Kristen and me, I. Late one afternoon, I forget where we were that day and overnight, we drove a short distance to a nearby clam shack that was right on an inlet, a bayou off a bay, a harbor for small craft, pleasure and workboats. There were outside picnic tables, and we parked and walked to the shack and ordered our clams and fries. Served in a small open box piled high, delicious and took me back to clams when we lived in Newport, Rhode Island during our Navy days, once at the beginning (OCS) and once halfway through (Naval War College).
But the Maine trip was memorable on its own, happy memories; Kristen was wanting to go to Maine and I had long wanted to be back in New England in general and to visit Maine in particular, not knowing at the time that Andreas Wäller had come from Germany with his family and settled there in the 18th century in a tall-ship-building town called Broad Bay, later renamed Waldoborough, Waldoboro. New knowledge since then, starting from my sister, who is the family genealogist. Anyway, coming and going with this ramble, I have been wanting to get back there and spend a few days in the still small town, though twice the population of Apalachicola, where my Weller ancestor first set down American roots.
Another anyway, about our 2008 evening at the clamshack on that little Maine harbor looking out beyond the reeds. Just at sunset, all of a sudden, in less than an instant, as I was eating my fried clams that I had been longing for since 1957 and 1968, the lovely clear evening was filled with no-see-ums crawling around both eyes, filling the nose and biting every bit of exposed skin. It basically ruined the adventure, but the box of delicious fried clams brought back memories from my twenties and thirties, and now the evening itself, and Kristen 15, is a happy memory.
Someday maybe we'll get back to Maine, maybe sooner, maybe later.
T
image pinched online
Which brings to mind our Maine trip summer 2008, August just before school started, we flew from here to Boston and rented a car, were there just short of two weeks. Linda, Kristen and me, I. Late one afternoon, I forget where we were that day and overnight, we drove a short distance to a nearby clam shack that was right on an inlet, a bayou off a bay, a harbor for small craft, pleasure and workboats. There were outside picnic tables, and we parked and walked to the shack and ordered our clams and fries. Served in a small open box piled high, delicious and took me back to clams when we lived in Newport, Rhode Island during our Navy days, once at the beginning (OCS) and once halfway through (Naval War College).
But the Maine trip was memorable on its own, happy memories; Kristen was wanting to go to Maine and I had long wanted to be back in New England in general and to visit Maine in particular, not knowing at the time that Andreas Wäller had come from Germany with his family and settled there in the 18th century in a tall-ship-building town called Broad Bay, later renamed Waldoborough, Waldoboro. New knowledge since then, starting from my sister, who is the family genealogist. Anyway, coming and going with this ramble, I have been wanting to get back there and spend a few days in the still small town, though twice the population of Apalachicola, where my Weller ancestor first set down American roots.
Another anyway, about our 2008 evening at the clamshack on that little Maine harbor looking out beyond the reeds. Just at sunset, all of a sudden, in less than an instant, as I was eating my fried clams that I had been longing for since 1957 and 1968, the lovely clear evening was filled with no-see-ums crawling around both eyes, filling the nose and biting every bit of exposed skin. It basically ruined the adventure, but the box of delicious fried clams brought back memories from my twenties and thirties, and now the evening itself, and Kristen 15, is a happy memory.
Someday maybe we'll get back to Maine, maybe sooner, maybe later.
T
image pinched online