This Week in Lincolnville: When in Doubt, Call Them Out

The Asparagus Bed, by Diane O’Brien

Sun, 05/17/2026 - 1:43pm

Ed O'Brien

Our fire station. (Photo by Ed O’Brien)

Around noon Friday, during that brief reprieve I have built into my work day, when I go for a quick walk or otherwise get out of the office, I received a text from my daughter, who was up at UMaine for the All-State Choir. “If y’all do prayer stuff ever, a quick one for Alden’s brother is needed.”

Her boyfriend’s brother is a deputy chief with the Hope Volunteer Fire Department. This is the first I learned of the horror unfolding at Robbins Lumber, just over the Camden Hills. Rushing back to the office, I remained glued for much of the afternoon, between clients, to the news reports and social media posts coming from Searsmont.

It is hard for people from away to understand just how small this place is, how interconnected we all are. Seeing the words “mass casualty event” and realizing just how many people I know who work at the mill, or would have shown up among the first responders.

Not long after, our daughter sent us a follow up from the brother — “me and the Appleton guys are okay, but I love you guys.” The firefighter from Hope had apparently suited up with the Appleton crew, and while the message was comforting, the subtext was anything but.

Apparently my father was briefly a member of the Lincolnville Volunteer Fire Department, but that was before my memory. Growing up here, though, I was always aware of our volunteer fire fighters. My best friend’s dad was one, a radio always in his back pocket, the scanner always on in his kitchen. I learned to know the various codes, and when his dad needed to drop everything and rush to the fire station in the Center.

My friend followed his father, and as young man doing what young men do, he always had the scanner in his pocket.

When I saw the words “mass casualty event” he was the first person I thought of.

Our volunteer fire fighters sacrifice so much in their service to our communities. Whether responding to a false alarm at the Beach (my dogs have become disturbingly adept at mimicking the sound of a siren as the truck roars down from the Center) or responding to a late night chimney fire here at Sleepy Hollow back in the day, the Lincolnville Fire Department will be there. “When in doubt, call us out”, they say on social media.

Around 10 p.m. Friday, as the news became clearer, my son’s girlfriend, herself a junior firefighter with the LVFD, who’s dad had spent the day at the fire, showed up and just sobbed in my boy’s arms.

So much love to our first responders, and to the doctors, nurses, CNAs and hospital staff caring for our injured.

My buddy Mike, a former chief of the Lincolnville Volunteer Fire Department said it best on Facebook: “If you happen upon a firefighter, just give them a hug, a pat on the back, or a knowing nod. Frig.”

Getting Intimate with My Asparagus, By Diane Roesing O’Brien

The arrival of the first hummingbird is a sure sign of spring, and people notice, they call a friend, they post it on the Bulletin Board. But how many get excited by a single little purple head poking up through the leaf litter in the garden? In our household it’s definitely a harbinger of warmer days.

The asparagus is up! We text each other (it’s how we communicate in this multi-generational house), call a friend, tell the cat.

Now I’ve got to face my fall neglect; the dead stalks of last summer’s crop are still standing. I’m reminded, again, of the warning to clean up those old stalks as they might be harboring larvae of the asparagus beetle, a quick and voracious little critter that nibbles on the new growth.

Ah well. Just another garden blunder I’ll have to live with, along with the hose sprinklers I leave out to freeze every single year. I’ll have to chase asparagus beetles and buy new sprinklers – again.

Garden clean-up is best done on my knees, or rather, on the one intact knee and gingerly, on the titanium one. After piling all the clipped stalks in the path, I tackle the weeds that overwintered. A thick mat of creeping Charlie (or as inaturalist tells me is also known as ground ivy or alehoof or Gill-over-the-ground or field balm or run-away-robin) covers much of the asparagus bed, quietly slipping under the hemlock boards of the raised beds.Creeping Charlie is a benevolent weed, it’s roots rarely penetrating an inch, like a comforter over the deep asparagus roots.

Not so the real enemy – witch grass. Sturdy, strong blades pop up all over, each connected to the next with a thick, wire-like root. If left to grow its underground maze could obliterate the asparagus. Or so I imagine.

I was sure I still had my copy of Ruth Stout’s How to Have a Green Thumb Without an Aching Back. Do you remember it? If you’re a member of what my son, Andy, recently called the Back-to-the-Land generation of Mainers, you may still have yours, tucked away with the Mother Earth News and a tattered Whole Earth Catalog.

Ok, I, suppose Wally and I, an unlikely couple to come together and decide to be farmers, were B-to-the-L, or even hippies as some around town referred to us. All I knew that first summer, 1970, was I wanted a garden, and Wally wanted to please me. That is, until I brought home a rented rototiller from the Farmers’ Union in the back seat of my brand new SAAB 96. And ripped the upholstery getting it out.

Ruth Stout introduced me to witch grass and how she finally conquered hers with a thick layer of hay mulch. She had a farmer friend who dropped off old hay every year. Reading her story of triumph over a garden enemy inspired me, but like most garden books promised much that I’ve never realized.

Our first asparagus roots, probably ordered from Burpee, didn’t fare very well, planted in the pure clay of our “garden”. At the suggestion of Nat Stone, the previous owner of our house, neighbor Bud Feener came over with his tractor and turned over the sod down in the field, a few hundred yards from the house and what became our manure pile, a long haul with a loaded wheelbarrow.

Finally, some years, and after the work of a couple of goats, two pigs, and Wally’s chain saw the wild berry canes and scrappy alders were cleared in the field next to our driveway, and we’ve had a garden there ever since.

We planted asparagus right off, deeply dug trenches and laid out the roots. The bed encompassed part of the manure pile (product of a cow and a pony) mulched with chicken bedding and probably some pig poop.

That manure pile, by the way, was the scene of a memorable second grade birthday party that Wally held in November in between forays into the woods for “his” deer. There are, I believe still a few middle-age boys in this town who remember the day. [edit by Ed- i think it was supposed to be a snowball fight party, but lacking snow in late November 1978, the old man resorted to manure.]

The clinker pile, remnants of the house’s coal burning days, never grew a thing for years until it got thoroughly overwhelmed by the manure pile, and today is part of the asparagus bed.

The first spears were scrawny little things, and as recommended, we didn’t pick them. But as the years went by it got better and better, until now when we pick every other day until July 4th. That’s my cut-off day. After that the shoots become tall, lacey ferns and store up nutrients in the roots so next spring we’ll have asparagus to eat.

Beach Gardens:

Friday, May 22 at 9 a.m. a load of mulch will arrive at Lincolnville Beach to be spread on the various beds that beautify our beach. Volunteers are sought to help out with the weeding, watering, and planting. If you wish to adopt a bed to tend through the summer, please contact Lee Cronin at 207-236-0028.

Library Happenings:

Needleworkers will meet Tuesday at 3 p.m. Also on Tuesday, join the book group for a discussion on Theo of Golden at 4:30 p.m. On Wednesday, March 20, the Poetry Circle will meet at 2 p.m. The LCS after school program will be at the library from 3 to 5 p.m. for games and stories. MahJongg for Everyone, play and lessons, will be held Friday at noon.

Memorial Day:

Memorial Day is a solemn holiday, where we honor those lost in war. It is a time to reflect, as we enter the summer season, which some would argue is the best time of the year in this little place on the shore of the cold Atlantic. Thanks to Rosey Gerry and his volunteers, the graves of our veterans are adorned with flags, the grass cut around the old granite stones.

The Lincolnville Parade will kick off at 12 p.m., at Lincolnville Central School, making its way to the honor roll beside the Library in the Center, where words will be spoken. As always, the parade will feature the Camden Hills Band, super cool old cars, and our fire trucks- which will receive extra love this year. At 12:45, a wreath will be tossed from the Frohock bridge to honor all those service people lost at sea.

It’s been a week. My thoughts are with the folks from Lincolnville and surrounding towns recovering in the hospital, with all the Midcoast first responders, with the Robbins family and employees.

When it comes down to it, Maine is just a big neighborhood. We look out for our neighbors.

Be good and do good. Reach out at ceobrien246@gmil.com.

Municipal Calendar:

Monday, May 18

Select Board, 6 p.m., Town Office

Tuesday, May 19

Library open 3-6 p.m. 208 Main Street

AA Meeting 12:15 p.m., Community Building, 18 Searsmont Road

Special Town Meeting, LCS Budget, 6 p.m., Walsh Common, Lincolnville Central School

Wednesday, May 20

Library open 2-5

Thursday, May 21