Yesterday, a Texas rug customer, staying at the Spouter Inn, said it was 104 in Houston. I slept under a blanket last night and with windows wide open.

Rush hour in front of my house consists of five or six pick-ups tearing down to catch the early ferry. Meanwhile, a dozen different birds are singing as I write. Thanks to Merlin I know who they are.

Biggest decision of the day so far? Should I pick the raspberries first or the peas?

Camden isn’t Bar Harbor.

And Belfast isn’t Camden. Yet.

The beautifully tattooed young woman behind the counter at French and Brawn chatted with me about my sons and grandchildren; “I know all of them” she said, and made my day.

The Beach Store is open again, making sandwiches and pizza.

Green is the dominant color of our landscape. Briefly orange/yellow/red if it’s October and gray/brown after that.

Probably because I also love a rainy spell and relish the gray days of winter, Maine’s climate suits me just fine.

There is still much to discover about how our town developed amidst the half-submerged pilings and timbers on our shore. Baffling references to “the old road” on a recently discovered map led me on an early morning hunt for it with the intrepid Corelyn Senn along that very shore.

Which led to a discussion at Friday night’s Lobster Pound Happy Hour with a guy who remembered a story he’d heard from young Tom Flagg:

Tom Flagg – old Tom Flagg – was hauling rocks up from that same stretch of shore to use on the roads when his horse got stuck in the muck below the Little Pond. When they couldn’t get it out, they had to shoot it. 

Perhaps the tide was coming in and it was the humane thing to do. Both Toms, senior and junior, are gone now, but thanks to Corelyn I now know where Little Pond was, and the muck where the horse must have bogged down.

Hardly a week goes by that someone doesn’t recall Wally to me, more than five years since he died.

It’s been twelve years since the Lincolnville Bulletin Board was launched, and it’s still going strong. With some 1300 members it’s still the best way to find a lost dog, and sometimes a cat, though missing cats aren’t as likely to turn up.

Need to borrow baby equipment for a visiting grandchild or a wheelchair or a ride to Portland? Need to pass on a couch or a radial arm saw? Looking for a plumber, a carpenter, someone to mow your lawn? Post your query to the LBB; just be sure to include a photo if applicable and your name.

Just don’t get political or preachy. The site’s manager, Pat Putnam, will remind you, gently at first, but she means it – the LBB isn’t the place for contentious discussions. It’s not the place to tear down a neighbor.

This town is too small for that.

My own rule has been “never say or write anything bad about someone you’re likely to run in to at Hannafords or the post office or on your morning walk.” I learned long ago, as a nine-year-old in fact, that if you say something mean about someone it will come back and bite you.

Better for all of us to just get along.

And right now, the sun has risen high enough for me to see her through the trees of Sleepy Hollow. My chicks are itching to be let out to scratch in their yard, Fritz is begging for a walk, and the peas won’t pick themselves.

Do you like it here too? Make your own list. I’ve said enough for today.