Once again, Ma has submitted a wonderful piece of writing for this week’s column:

Putting the Garden to Bed, by Diane Roesing O’Brien

The next warm day, the one I promised myself, finally arrived last weekend. No more procrastinating, get out and do it: cut down the dead perennials, pull up the tomato stakes, and the painful part, take inventory. Neatening up the garden at the end of the season was never our strong suit. Except for taking down the ravaged pea vines and storing away the fence, a job Wally refused to do since I was the one who insisted on peas, I never did much else. He put away the tiller and mower, putting in whatever magic elixir was supposed to make them start in the spring, (or was it running out the gas?). I can’t remember.

But now he’s gone, with my upstairs D-I-L taking on that task. And along with a myriad of other winter-ready chores, she’s a master; organizing a wood-stacking crew, swapping out the mowers for the snowblower in our under-the-barn equipment storage. She pulls in the youngest of her three teenagers to help her clean out the henhouse, and keeps an eye on the temperature, waiting as long as possible to shut off the hen’s water. Hauling a five-gallon bucket every day from the kitchen sink is, well, a real pain.

Leaving me to face the ravaged landscape of our once-thriving garden.

Funny how getting old has brought out the perfectionist in me. Well, I’m hardly perfect, but these days I want to do things right. To slow down and finish a thing I’ve started. To look around our garden and see neatly trimmed clumps of day lilies, of peonies, of asparagus. As for the corn stalks, the wilted tomato plants, the squishy squash vines, they need to be pulled and left to decompose atop the beds along with the dead zinnias, the onion tops, the over-grown, rotting cucumbers.

I try, without success, to pull up a dead sunflower and find that the slender bamboo stake I’d tied it to when it was just a toddler is still holding fast to the woody, inch-thick stalk. How was it that I worried over this particular anemic looking seedling just a few months ago? I’d let it grow leggy and spindly in its tiny pot before finally planting it out where it might possibly survive.

Instead, it thrived. So did the tomato seedlings, the cabbages, the broccoli. The frail-looking onions, blades of grass when I carefully separated them and placed each in its own little hole, announced they were done a month and more ago, drying up and laying down their thick, green leaves amidst their shiny, delicious globes.

The garden, as it beds down for winter, leaves behind this assortment of vegetation, along with, I’m sure, the buried cocoons of the hawk moth, better known to gardeners as tomato hornworms. Asparagus ferns harbor eggs of a little beetle that will only munch on its namesake, those juicy spears in spring, after spending a cozy winter in an old asparagus stalk.

Wally’s bed, the one in the middle that’s edged with the bricks his cousin Steve installed nine (!) years ago, has evolved along with the widow and the family he left behind. My intention to plant witchy, herby plants, to make it a wild patch amidst the domesticity of the beans and lettuces and peas has been mostly abandoned. Aromatic tansy was too aggressive, lovage quickly sprouts up six feet then dies out, and costmary, with its wonderful nickname, Bible leaf, was simply out of control. 

They’ve all been moved out of Wally’s bed. Survivors include the black hollyhock that was a gift, along with Queen of the Prairie he dug for me many years ago. So long ago it never occurred to us it would one day feed on the tiny specks of him left. I guess I really prefer order to the chaos that ruled my emotions in those first solitary months.

So, the end-of-season inventory. Tearing down the mess of tomato vines, ravaged by those adolescent hawk moths and probably a touch of blight, my mind’s eye is remembering the tender, tomatoey-fragrant babies they were. And the sweet little toes of my real babies, the ones growing rapidly into middle age.  

Beach Bonfire Nonprofit

The first Saturday in December has, for as long as I can remember, been marked by the bonfire at Lincolnville Beach. Recent exploration into the history of this event has marked its beginning further back than we knew, the first bonfire was likely started by the Graham Boys, Bob and George. Likely the Butterman’s, long since moved from the Beach has a hand. It has grown into an annual tradition, with townspeople gathered around a massive blaze of discarded pallets and brush, singing carols, while the children await the arrival of Santa via Lincolnville Fire Department truck.

While taking place the same weekend as the Christmas-by-the-Sea celebration of our more refined neighbors to the south, Camden and Rockport, Lincolnville’s celebration has always been a bit more haphazard, likely to the chagrin of the Christmas-by-the-Sea organizers.

With the purchase of the property adjacent to the town owned property on the beach by the state, the fate of the beach bonfire has been in flux. The Graham boys never considered things like liability insurance, or, for that matter, a burn permit, but times have changed.

In order to keep things legal, those of us interested in keeping this tradition alive have begun the process of forming a nonprofit, with the intent of purchasing liability insurance for the event. Wade Graham (no relation to the founders) and Sandy Lehman have put out donation collection boxes around town to raise the funds to initiate this process, and board members have been secured.

If all goes as we hope, and with the help of the townsfolk, Saturday, December 6, the bonfire will go on as it has for decades, and possibly, if the fire is merry and bright, and the carols are loud and joyful, Santa himself will be drawn by his fire-loving reindeer to our little town on the coast, during his test flight across the North Atlantic, and hitch a ride on one of our fire trucks to greet the good children of Lincolnville.

Football State Champions

Congratulations to the Camden Hills Regional High School 8-Man football team on an incredible season, culminating in a decisive victory over Spruce Mountain High School Saturday. The first-ever state championship for the Windjammers.

We never had a football team growing up, but in 2004 Five Town Youth Football begun, feeding into a High School team made up of kids from Camden, Rockport, Hope, Appleton, and Lincolnville many who had already been playing together for years.

The championship team was made up of several Lincolnville kids, and watching from the stands at Auburn’s Edward Little High School, I couldn’t help cheer a little louder when I heard the name of an LCS alum from the announcer, proclaiming a carry or tackle.

Fantastic work, boys. Those from the Five Towns, and their opposites from Jay and Livermore. You put up a heck of a fight.

Library Happenings

Conscious Aging: Be Proactive With Aging, will be held Tuesday, November 18 at 2 p.m. Join the needleworkers Tuesday from 3 to 5 p.m. Finally, there will be a book discussion of Still Life at 5. There will be a poetry circle at 3 p.m. on Wednesday, November 19. Cribbage for Everyone will be held from 3 to 5 p.m. on Thursday, November 20.

We are so fortunate to have such an active little library in this town. If you have not previously, stop by. The staff and volunteers would be happy to meet you.

Sympathy

For the loved ones of Richard “Dick” Koski, an active citizen of Lincolnville since 1965, volunteering his time all over this town. I will always remember him presiding over the Pinewood Derby races held by Cub Scout Troop 244 at the Community Building.

For Gordie Guist, an all-around lovely man. Special thoughts to his adoring wife Robin.

For the vast extended family  and loved ones of George William Heald, who learned to love his ancestral home of Lincolnville while summering here as a kid.

It is a cold and dreary Sunday morning as I write this, as a Sunday in November should be. Hopefully you have all adjusted to the time change, and to driving home in the dark, should you work a 9 to 5.

With football and the musical over, I am looking forward to seeing a bit more of my children. As I read my mom’s piece above, I am reminded just how quickly time can go. Seasons change, and change again. As it should.

Be kind, Lincolnville. Look out for each other, and be neighborly.

Municipal Calendar

Tuesday, November 18

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

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

Wednesday, November 19

Library Open, 2-5 p.m., 208 Main Street

Comprehensive Plan- Land Use Workshop, 6 p.m., Walsh Common, LCS

MCSWC Board of Directors, 6:30, Camden Town Office

Thursday, November 20

Library open 2-5 p.m., 208 Main Street

AA Meeting, 7 p.m., Lincolnville Historical Society, 33 Beach Road.

Friday, November 21

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

Library open 9-12, 208 Main Street

Saturday, November 22

Library open 9-12, 208 Main Street

Sunday, November 23

United Christian Church, 9:30 a.m. Worship and Children’s Church, 18 Searsmont Road

Bayshore Baptist Church, 10 a.m. Sunday School for All Ages, 10:40 a.m. Coffee and Baked Goods, 11:00 a.m. worship, 2648 Atlantic Highway