Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda

Labor Day signals the end to summer in Maine and there are lots of things I shoulda, woulda and coulda accomplished in the past three months, but I didn’t.  It seems that summers are just too short around these parts.

I logged a fair amount of bicycle miles but I shoulda ridden more (ice and snow aren’t that far away).  I woulda used my camera and blogged more but life got in the way.  I spent some good times with family and friends but I wish those times coulda lasted longer.  In a nutshell, I could use another summer to complete my to-do list of warm weather activities.

The good news is that experts are predicting a spectacular fall foliage season here in the Northeast and that’s always a photographer’s delight.  In fact, if you look carefully, signs of what’s to come are now showing up in many places.

As I anticipate the coming of autumn, I can already hear the crunching sound of fallen leaves beneath my bicycle tires as I ride Southern Maine’s Eastern Trail system in search of the projected kaleidoscope of color.   If indeed Mother Nature cranks up the hue saturation knob, we’ll all be in for a treat.

Reviewing my to-do list, I had plans to do more nighttime photography but that didn’t happen.  These days, I can hardly stay awake through a nine inning baseball game let alone be out past midnight in search of the Milky Way.

The best I could muster up was a pre-dawn shoot at Old Orchard Beach before the tourists swarmed the place.  In the process, I discovered that OOB takes on a whole different persona when you’re the only one on the beach before the sun rises.

I also wanted to do an early hour hike to a mountain summit and photograph the sunrise illuminating New Hampshire’s White Mountains.  As it turned out, I settled for mid-day family hikes up Middle Mountain in North Conway and Maiden’s Cliff in Camden.  The light at noon is not well suited for mountain-scapes and it’s hardly worth schlepping a camera up the trail.  Therefore, whether hiking up a mountain or just walking along in the great outdoors, I also try to pay attention to the details rather than simply focus on the grand vista.

My checklist also included taking in many of the free outdoor evening concerts in Southern Maine but I only made it to three.

LL Bean hosted several big name artists for their “Summer in the Park” concert series and I really enjoyed the season’s finale featuring Bruce Hornsby.

I first saw Hornsby when he performed at Portland City Hall on a bone-chilling January night in the late 1980’s. He was at the height of his career having just won a Grammy Award as the year’s best new artist and he rocked the house.  He later became friends with Jerry Garcia and toured with the Grateful Dead until Garcia’s death.

He is a very talented musician as evidenced by the multiple instruments he plays.  You know there is fun in the making when someone pulls out an accordion!

I set a goal to do more bird photography but that also fell through the cracks.  I can’t count the times I drove past Scarborough Marsh on my bike or in my car and spotted the perfect egret or heron shot only to lament the fact that I didn’t have my camera with me.

Even my backyard feeder saw reduced activity this summer.  Maybe the neighborhood birds were displeased with my lack of participation and found somewhere else to strut their stuff.

As much as I could use a summer do-over, all was not lost.  On more than one occasion I ignored the temptation to hit the snooze button and dragged my butt out of bed to catch the sunrise and the corresponding golden light of early morning.

If there’s one downside to summer it’s that sunrise occurs pretty early – hence the reason my daybreak excursions were few and far between.  However, the times that I did get out before dawn, I was well rewarded.

Looking back on it all now, it was actually a pretty good summer.  I can’t wait for the next one!



Pitcher Pond

I recently had the good fortune of spending some time on Pitcher Pond in Lincolnville, Maine.  Friends of ours invited me, my wife and our dog to spend a weekend at their “cabin” along the pond’s western shore and although the weather wasn’t spectacular, the time spent there certainly was.

Nearby Camden State Park offers hiking trails overlooking larger Lake Megunticook as pictured during a recent hike

About 2.5 miles long by half a mile at its widest, Pitcher Pond is as pristine as it gets and quiet as the proverbial church mouse.  Just a short drive from the Camden Hills region and even closer to the seacoast town of Belfast, this area offers some wildlife viewing opportunities that rival Maine’s more isolated locations.

With few powerboats and jet-skis, the pond is a kayaker’s paradise so long as the wind isn’t kicking up a fuss and disturbing the peaceful waters.  Depending on the water level of the pond, the adjacent smaller Knight Pond is accessible by kayak or canoe via a narrow connector channel.

Our first kayaking excursion was in the direction of Knight Pond where I was told that herons are frequently spotted.  Having once lost a camera in a capsized canoe fiasco, I was a bit gun shy of taking my “good” gear with me in the kayak.  Replacing the submerged point and shoot camera several years ago wasn’t too painful; having to buy a new digital SLR and high quality lens, ouch!!!  I made the decision to leave the camera in the cabin and it was a BIG mistake.  A great blue heron put on a spectacular show for us – envision a giant cargo plane practicing flawless take-offs and landings – and I didn’t even have a cell phone camera to capture it.  The next day I compromised and brought the camera along but outfitted it with a less costly consumer grade lens.

Catching some rays
Even a broken leg didn’t stop this angler

Most of Saturday was overcast and the sky didn’t begin to clear until just before sunset.  Meteor showers were forecasted for the overnight hours and several shooting stars were spotted in between breaks in the clouds.  Shortly before 11:00 pm the near full moon rose above the tree line – its fiery red glow partially obscured by some clouds – and provided an illusion of the sunset we missed while out to dinner in Lincolnville Beach.

Moonrise over Pitcher Pond

The evening sky offered promise for an epic sunrise the following morning but it didn’t materialize.  Rather, daybreak greeted those of us awake at that early hour with some low hanging fog, the enchanting sounds of loons crying, and a bald eagle perched across the pond within reach of my telephoto lens.  The stillness of the morning was only interrupted by the occasional splashing of some ducks and could best be summed up by the words: “Tranquility Base, the Eagle has landed”.

Following breakfast, we set off on a kayak mission to one of several known bald eagle nests intricately erected along the shoreline.  No one was home when we arrived at the nest but Mr. (or Mrs.) eagle was spotted joy-riding and putting on an air show (think Blue Angels) for us.

Oh, and did I mention that our dog, Emmie, swam and swam and swam some more?  She rated the weekend a solid “10” on the happy meter.  So did mom and dad!


Celebrating the Fourth on Peaks Island

Ferry boats line up at the Casco Bay terminal

I think most painters, writers and photographers experience periods of creative block.  I know I do.  It’s as if there is a voice within us that whispers that the next creative act can wait another day.   The more we listen to that voice, the more days that pass where we “just don’t feel it” and the camera, brush or pen simply sits idle.

View of Portland from the Maine State Pier

For me, this voice comes in one of three choruses:

Conditions Aren’t Right – The light won’t be right; I don’t have the right gear for that; getting to the right location will be too much work.

It’s Been Done Before – With billions of pictures on Instagram, Flickr, Facebook and other social media, there’s probably no place on the planet that hasn’t been photographed already.  Why bother?

It Needs to be Perfect –   That’s a great idea but I could easily screw it up!

I doubt that I’m alone in this thinking.

A strong display of patriotism along the Portland waterfront
Let’s not forget our Canadian neighbors as they celebrate their 150th anniversary

So what’s the antidote for this artistic roadblock?  Pick up the camera.  Go out and shoot something, anything.  Done is better than perfect.

A great day for sailing on Casco Bay

After a month or so of feeling uninspired to click the shutter, I decided to take the camera along as my wife, dog and I made our traditional July 4th excursion out to Peaks Island to celebrate Independence Day.

Peaks Island’s colorful sights are abundant 

Knowing that we would be taking the late morning ferry, I turned down the volume on the internal voice that reminded me that “the light won’t be right at mid-day” and decided to focus on color – bad light be damned.  To capture the true essence of Peaks one must reveal its colorful sights and care-free lifestyle.  Think of any Jimmy Buffett song you’ve ever heard and Peaks Island embodies it.  This is Margaritaville north.

Parts of the island are very tranquil
Most cottages are very well maintained
Each cottage displays its unique decor

About a twenty minute boat ride from Portland’s waterfront, this is a tourist haven in the summertime.  With ferries running about once per hour, visitors can spend as little or as much time on the island as they please.  There are several good restaurants, a general store, ice cream worth the calories as well as bike, kayak and golf cart rentals.  Just remember to wear comfortable shoes.

Just about every hue on the color spectrum is represented somewhere on the island

There aren’t many rules on the island.  If a car runs, it’s considered road-worthy.  Don’t have a car?  A golf cart will do.  No cart?  Get a bike – the older the better.  This place is as laid back as it gets.

People get very creative with their cars
Peaks is a very dog friendly place

A golf cart in the front yard is the ultimate status symbol
Everyone should own at least one purple bicycle in their lifetime
Peaks Island literally offers a “Bicycle with a View”

Each trip to Peaks is unique and often times the ferry ride itself is what stands out.  My favorite pastime while on the boat is to survey the various items that people bring aboard – keeping in mind that there are about 1,000 year round inhabitants and hundreds more seasonal residents that need provisions and other “stuff”.  This year’s winner:  a guy carrying a 4 foot plastic Santa Claus figure.   Must have been a deal he couldn’t refuse.

There are many gorgeous flower gardens to admire

Some flower gardens fall into the “fake news” category

If you’ve never been to Peaks Island, you need to go and experience this quintessential slice of Maine for yourself.

Portland Headlight as seen from Casco Bay
Latest mural on the Maine State Pier

If you’ve been contemplating a visit but haven’t pulled the trigger yet, turn off that voice in your head that suggests “there’s no place to park near the ferry” (go early); it’s too chilly on the boat (bring a jacket); “I won’t know what to do there” (Google it).  It might not be your “perfect” summer excursion, but then again, it might.  Besides, done is better than perfect!

The Perfect Storm

The 2017 Scarborough High School Girls Softball Team

I don’t follow professional basketball very closely but I had been keeping an eye on the Golden State Warriors to see if they would become the first NBA team to go undefeated in the playoffs.  They ended up winning the championship but along the way they lost Game 4 of the finals and finished with a record of 16 wins and 1 loss.  It brought back memories of the 2007 New England Patriots team that ran the table with a 16-0 regular season record, but lost the Super Bowl to finish at 18-1, thereby missing their place in the history books as the “greatest team ever”.  Of course, all that pales in comparison to the U-Conn women’s basketball team that won 111 straight games spanning several years before losing an overtime heart-breaker this past April.  As the saying goes, “all good things must come to an end”, and it did.

Enter the Scarborough High School girls’ “Red Storm” softball team that recently chalked up several consecutive undefeated regular seasons only to lose in the playoffs and be denied the state championship.  They’re back with a vengeance in 2017 and have racked up eighteen straight wins towards a bid for the regional crown against Portland and – with a victory – a shot at the coveted state Class A title.  With a possible perfect season in the making, I packed up my camera gear and headed up to St. Joseph’s College in Standish to photograph the game and cheer for my hometown team.

It was a perfect evening for a ballgame
The grounds crew at St. Joseph’s College did an excellent job preparing the field
These umpires looked like the real deal
The girls were fired up to play

The Storm had already beaten #2 seeded Portland 9-0 during the regular season and so expectations were high that Scarborough would move on to the state championship game.  Yet, despite the confidence exuded by the players during the warm-ups, I sensed some degree of nervousness based on the knowledge of past playoff failures.  As the sun slowly began its descent towards the horizon the umpire’s shout to “play ball” couldn’t come too soon.

During my twenties and thirties, I played softball in a men’s “recreational” (code word for beer drinking) league. I managed the company sponsored team and I was even league president for a year.  My brainchild as president was to schedule the opening day of the season on a Sunday with each of the sixteen teams in action.  Everybody got to play.  Problem was, that Sunday happened to be Mothers’ Day.  The irate phone calls – from both husbands and wives – didn’t stop for at least a week.  Needless to say, I didn’t run for re-election.

Slow-pitch (also code for beer drinking) softball that I played doesn’t require the skill level of the fast-pitch version.  In slow pitch, strikeouts are practically non-existent since the ball is gently lobbed in high arc fashion to the batter.  Not so in the fast pitch sport.  Even at the high school level, that ball is humming as it streaks towards the batter’s box.  I only wish I could “throw like a girl” after watching these young women pitch.

Scarborough pitcher, Abbie Murrell
Ready, aim . . . . fire!

Facing an outstanding pitcher at any level is a daunting task and I expected the ferocious Portland Lady Bulldogs to quickly be reduced to a much meeker Golden Retriever status by Scarborough’s hurler, Abbie Murrell.

Portland’s base runners were few and far between

That didn’t happen and when the first Portland batter launched a solid base hit, I feared bad things might be forthcoming.  Abbie settled down and got out of that first inning jam and in the bottom half of that frame her teammates put up a BIG crooked number and they never looked back.

The Storm kept their eye on the ball and it paid dividends
Celebrating a home run that was icing on the cake

Portland made things interesting in the final inning but it was way too little, too late.  Final score: Scarborough 8 – Portland 3.

The intensity of the players and umpire speaks for itself
A good example of being “handcuffed” by the ball.  Error.
You make the call:  safe or out?
Scarborough had lots to cheer about
The Red Storm outhit the Lady Bulldogs by a wide margin
Portland’s frustration grew as the game progressed
These girls mean business!
The victory game ball now destined for the souvenir case

Scarborough (19-0) will now play Skowhegan (17-2) for the Class A state title on Saturday.  Based on their performances all season, it may take a “perfect storm” to topple them.

Skowhegan?  Bring ’em on!
Raising the South Conference championship plaque

Where Does The Green Go?

One bright, crisp October morning about twenty years ago my young daughter awoke to discover that most of the trees in our backyard had turned a vibrant red, orange or yellow.  That prompted her to ask me “where does the green on the leaves go, dad?”  I tried my best to describe the photosynthesis process to her by explaining that the trees stop producing the green chlorophyll pigment that tints the leaves in the summertime, thereby revealing the underlying hues of the now bare leaves.  It sounded like a good explanation to me, but she wasn’t buying it.  “If the leaves were green yesterday, and today they are red, the green had to go somewhere.  Where did it go?”  I contemplated my next response very deeply and finally replied “better go ask your science teacher”.

I may not know where the green goes, but I do know when it comes back, it returns with a vengeance.  Just before Memorial Day in Maine, the state sheds its drab brown winter coat and dons its St. Patrick’s Day wardrobe. The abundance of rain cranks up the saturation level and lawns and forests magically re-discover their emerald-like vibrancy.  It’s a great time to be outdoors.

One outdoor place that my wife, dog and I like to visit is the Ovens Mouth Nature Preserve in Boothbay.  This 146 acre parcel is formed by two peninsulas – separated by a wooden foot bridge – that border the Sheepscot and Back Rivers.

The preserve is very dog friendly and is reportedly home to deer, otters, osprey and bald eagles.  Although I’ve yet to spot an eagle there, I remain hopeful.  A well-marked and maintained shore loop trail takes visitors to either peninsula named West and East.

I highly recommend a visit to Ovens Mouth.  Just minutes from Boothbay Harbor the place is scenic, interesting, and as unique as its peculiar name implies.

I Didn’t Have the Foggiest

The camera is a tool for learning how to see without a camera” – Dorothea Lange

I recently stumbled upon another inspiring photographer who publishes video blogs.  His name is Sean Tucker and he is a former priest turned professional photographer at the age of 30.  His videos focus more on the philosophy and art of photography rather than its technical aspects.  He submits that even a novice with entry level gear, but who has artistic vision, will make more captivating images than a person armed with the latest technology but who lacks such vision.

I think I have better than average artistic vision – as long as I can see where I’m going – and that has been a challenge along the Maine coast the past several days.  Early mornings have been shrouded in fog and yesterday was particularly “soupy”.  I drove out to Spring Point Ledge Lighthouse in South Portland twice just after sunrise and learned at least one valuable lesson: don’t forget to put a memory card in the camera.  On Thursday I arrived at the lighthouse just as the heaviest fog bank began to dissipate, put my photographic vision into high gear, composed the shot and pressed the shutter button only to receive the dreaded error message “no card in camera”.  I had been traveling light as I was on my way to work and left my full camera bag – with a stack of memory cards – at home.  No time to double back and get to work on time, I rescheduled the shoot for the next day and Mother Nature obliged by turning on the fog machine one more time.

As the bicycling season gets ready to kick off, I hope to do plenty of riding and “seeing” in the upcoming months.  Maybe I’ll stash an extra memory card in my bicycle tool bag – just in case.

Can’t We Just All Get Along

Ducks have taken up residence at the pond near my home.  Neighbors have reported sighting some baby ducklings and so I took a walk over this morning hoping to spot the happy family.  It appeared that mom and dad were home but I could not locate their offspring.  Perhaps they were packed off to ducky daycare so as to give their parents a brief respite.  Perhaps they were still asleep and tucked away quietly in amongst the shoreline weeds and cat tails.

Other birds frequented the pond as the early morning sun began to warm the cool morning air.  All seemed to be existing in perfect harmony until one “bad hombre” showed up and rocked the boat.  His presence was immediately detected by the daddy duck who claimed first “dibs” on both the pond and the mama duck.  Invoking the Stand Your Ground law inherent with nature, the resident male confronted the unwelcome intruder and after a brief stare down, fisticuffs ensued.

The action was fast and furious and lasted all of about three seconds.  I fired off about 25 frames in rapid succession but never captured the knockout blow.  Maybe it was a phantom punch reminiscent of the Ali-Liston fight held in Lewiston, Maine over 50 years ago.  Regardless, the intruding menace flew off, ego bruised, and peace was restored.