It’s 1.4 miles to and from my house and Tanglewood Road corner: 24 power poles, 10 mailboxes, three empty houses (including one abandoned), 4 dogs – tied up or confined to a yard, and three met occasionally on leash – Billy (truly a bad boy of a dog), Ralph (a wannabe bad boy, but no Billy) and Larry (a dust mop with a big mouth who just wants to be friends). When things get rough around here these days, I hitch up Fritz and head up the road.

Maybe it’s a family trait. Wally was known to stomp out of the house, jump into his truck, slam the door and disappear for an hour or so when things got hot. After the first half dozen such escapes, I figured it out, left him alone for awhile, then drove up to Stevens Corner/Bald Rock trail to coax him home. Country and western would be playing on the radio, and he’d be nursing a beer. And he’d come home.

Then there was the day our middle son, maybe two years old, started up the road, right on the yellow line. He was just rounding the bend above the house when I caught up with him, the fastest, most frantic run of my life. I should have been keeping a sharper eye on his two-year old the afternoon he decided to leave Grandma and Grandpa’s and walk home. At least he had the sense to walk in the travel lane, although how anyone taking the turn up from Sleepy Hollow at the usual Turnpike speed would have seen him in time, I don’t know.

It’s not like walking in town. Here, if someone’s out on the road on their own two feet, we notice. There’s my neighbor, a relentless runner, who’s been doing this for decades. There are the earlier mentioned dog walkers, and then there are the distraught. Usually it’s a glimpse you get from a moving car, a woman I know striding determinedly down the road, tears streaming, seeing no one. A recent widower on his daily walk to the post office; what’s going through his head, I would wonder. Of course, now I know. Sometimes it’s the desperate; the girl spotted sitting in her window on a summer night, bare light bulb hanging behind her head, staring at the road out front as if it were her lifeline, as indeed it was, and indeed she fled her awful home life not long after. Or the young woman in the grip of psychosis who walked incessantly for months, miles and miles from home. We saw her everywhere.

You read about endorphins and oxygen and all the stuff that picks you up. Well, it really does. Before Fritz and I have rounded the corner at Slab City and started down Ducktrap Road I’m feeling better. A few days ago the air actually had a warmth that matched the brilliant sunshine; maybe spring will come this year after all. The birds were certainly all atwitter; a mourning dove was cooing from deep in the woods, and the crows and jays had a lot to say. I didn’t hear a cardinal, one of the few other birds I recognize by its voice, but there were plenty of those chirpy bird sounds that I’ve never been able to sort out.

I felt hopeful, with just a twinge of that old spring excitement somewhere deep inside. Mornings are pretty easy; I’ve already replaced our morning rituals with my morning rituals. Dog, fires, coffee, all that.  Early morning TV news – those TV voices – fill the hour or more when my husband’s calm and careful reading voice, making its way through book after book on politics, history, biography was the start to our every day. I thought I was handling that pretty well (by not thinking about it), until a friend mentioned a President Andrew Jackson biography, and I knew that would have been our current book. Only there is no current book next to his chair.

People say there’s no right way to do this, that we each grieve in the way that we need to. Yet I worry that maybe I’m stuffing this, that I should be poring over all the memories, forcing them to come, and bringing on the kind of relentless day-long weeping that’s overtaken me only once. Would it would be better to keep him front and center in my mind all day, would it be healthier in the long run? Would it get this so very sad time over with sooner?

Instead of getting right after it, whole hours can pass without a thought of him. An old friend’s visit this past week, and we were giggling like the little girls we once were; cleaning out my china cupboard and remembering our mothers; talking endlessly about our kids and grandkids. Yet driving home alone from the airport, thinking idly about dinner that night – I’ll have green beans, I thought – and the pit opened up. His favorite, green beans cooked in butter. I’ll never put green beans in front of him again and see his eyes light up.

That small a thing. And it happens all the time. Times that make it hard to get my breath.

But the world is so beautiful, looking out at the early dawn sky, the black lace of the pines against that clear light. Watching the silly chickens scrabble for the pail of peelings and bread ends and vegetables too far gone for me to eat. Transplanting tiny lettuces with my daughter-in-law, both of us excited about the family garden we’re planning. Even the busy work of de-cluttering the house, the ongoing project that began the day I gathered up all his pills and moved them out, is pleasing.

The Sewer District will be presenting additional information on the need for their planned wastewater treatment and collection system at the Beach, along with financial projections, construction plans/timeline, and the social and economic impact of the project. The District has secured the 3.2 million dollars needed through grants and a  loan, but now, in view of the recent uncertainty of some commercial properties at the Beach, the Town’s help is needed for part of the debt on the loan. Specifically, the request is for $19,035.70/year for up to 10 years to construct a new waste water treatment facility to replace the failing private system now in place. Come out and hear their presentation and ask questions.

If this request sounds like a substantial investment by the town, and over ten years it is, all of us in Lincolnville, wherever we live and whether we can hook up to the system or not, will be impacted. The Beach and the Bay are an important part of our town’s economy; the restaurants, businesses, fishing, and hefty property taxes shore residents pay contribute a great deal to our bottom line. Investing in a modern waste water treatment facility to protect both the environment and this portion of our economy makes good sense on every level. At this meeting Selectmen will be hearing the Sewer District’s proposal; a decision on whether to bring it before the voters at June’s Town Meeting will be made later.

LCS’ Spirit Week was a great success, according to the Lynx, the school newsletter: “Due to the support of a generous community and a motivated student body, we were able to raise $1,100.00 last week. The final day of the week was Breast Cancer Awareness day. LCS was a sea of pink as students eagerly joined in the cause with both their clothing and spare change. Every penny, nickel, and dime went to support a very grateful LCS parent, Christina Barrows, who is putting up a great battle against this disease.

“There was an element of competition throughout the week where each class was judged on their level of participation for each of the daily events. In the end it was the fourth grade with an astounding rate of 100% who took top honors. This effort earned them an ice cream party to be bestowed upon them at a time to be determined.”

 Partners for Enrichment, the organization that brings cultural programs to HAL – Hope, Appleton, and Lincolnville schools – presents an Argentinian dance company, Che Malambo, for grades 3-8 on Tuesday, March 28. With traditional gaucho (South American cowboy) music and dance, Malambo is “a dynamic blend of precision footwork, rhythmic stomping, drumming and song.” I watched the YouTube video, and yes it is! Our kids are lucky, here in Midcoast Maine in the middle of this seemingly endless winter, to see such a vibrant, exciting performance! Partners for Enrichment is a great organization if you like to donate locally.

Library News

This Tuesday, March 28 is needlework night at the Lincolnville Community Library. Come any time between 4 and 6 p.m. to work on knitting, crocheting or other handwork projects. People at all levels of experience are always welcome. 

 The Library book group’s next reading choice is “Testimony,” a compelling novel by Anita Shreve about a scandal at a New England prep school and how it is handled. The group will meet to discuss the book on Tuesday, April 18 at 6 p.m. Shreve, the author of seventeen novels, has won numerous awards for her writing. Book group members would love to have people who have read some of her other books come join in the discussion on April 18.

Lenten Service

Nancy Heald reports seeing a loon swimming in Megunticook the other day. Hooray!

Photographing Signs of Spring

Thanks to Arlene Leighton who shared the results of her search for signs of spring behind her house on Youngtown Road. It is really coming, isn’t it?