There is a white birch tree growing from the rocks at one corner of our side yard. It’s a beautiful tree — who doesn’t have a soft spot for trees with white bark? — but it’s unfortunately lacking any avian occupants.
Stonington is home to lots of birds; in the morning you hear their many different calls. In hopes that one of the birds might call the birch tree home, I put up a nifty birdhouse that a good friend got us as a Maine housewarming gift on the birch tree. it’s freshly painted, has a solid roof, and is in a safe neighborhood. Now we’ll just keep our fingers crossed that a discerning bird will decide it’s their dream house.
Today I’m celebrating my freedom — specifically, my freedom to do whatever I want on Independence Day. In my case, that means weeding the side yard garden and lawn. Judging from the sheer number of weeds that have made their home there, I’m guessing it hasn’t been weeded in years. We’ve got friends coming next month for a visit and I want to give the grass a fighting chance, so now’s the time for some serious stooping and pulling..
After I dispose of a few hundred more dandelions and broad-leaf invaders, I’m going to celebrate my freedom to drink an ice-cold Allagash White.
Happy Fourth of July from dazzling Stonington, Maine, where the tide is out, the sun is shining, and conditions are perfect for a celebration of our independence.
May everyone enjoy their freedoms today!
There’s a “tall ship” anchored in Stonington’s harbor today. It towers over the other vessels, and gives rise to thoughts of men ‘o war and the old days of wind-powered wooden navies and sailing craft.
All boats are cool, but there’s something especially graceful about sailboats.
Last night Kish and I went to a new restaurant for dinner. The food was exceptionally good — I had a duck entree that was as succulent as any duck I’ve ever had — but the service was definitely wanting.
After taking our order, our waitperson pretty much ignored us. Other tables in the restaurant got bread; we didn’t. When we asked a busser to let our waitperson know that we wanted refills on our glasses of wine, she scurried off and . . . nothing happened. We were never offered a chance to order dessert. Different people kept appearing at the table and apologizing for the delays. Finally we just decided to chalk up the service issues to a new restaurant that is still working out the kinks, so we got our check — which also took longer than it should have, frankly, and prompted another apology from the restaurant staff — and then we hit the road.
Fine service obviously is a key part of fine dining. Anyone who has received good service and bad service knows how important the service element can be. As Kish pointed out after we left, bad service leaves you feeling both unappreciated and tense — which isn’t exactly conducive to a stellar food experience. You end up anxiously searching for your waitperson and trying to signal them rather than focusing on good food and good company, which is what should be happening.
I can understand how it might take a while before a restaurant gets its sea legs on service, and I’m willing to give any restaurant that serves such good food a second chance, and probably a third chance, too. Maybe we just went on a bad night, or drew a waitperson who is inexperienced. But how long does a grace period reasonably last? If you believe that service is important, shouldn’t that be something that is a point of emphasis from the very first days of training and through the dry runs and soft openings?
Lupines are found throughout Downeast Maine. They are beautiful and easily identifiable through their pine cone-shaped flowers and circular leaves. Even better, they grow anywhere and everywhere and require about as much care and feeding as your average weed.
If you come to Maine in June and early July you’re bound to see lupines in bloom. These beauties are in the driveway next to our cottage.
Today is a perfect day for cycling; it’s bright, not too hot, with a few clouds in the sky to break up the sunshine. No high-speed travel for us today. We’re just going to enjoy a leisurely journey around town, exploring the surroundings.
For our rides we’ve selected vintage-looking, single-speed, “fat tire” bikes — the kind where you brake by moving the pedals backward and can stand on the pedals when you’re going up a hill. They’re a Schwinn and a Huffy, the brands many of us had for our first bikes as kids.
No baseball cards in the spokes, though — at least, not yet.