Where Autumn Comes Early

Today is August 31.  It’s viewed as the traditional last day of summer.  Mentally, we place June, July and August in the “summer” category, while September, October, and November are pegged into the “autumn” category.

Of course, not everyone agrees with this traditional cultural view of the seasons.  The scientists among us would point out respectfully that the fall equinox doesn’t actually arrive until September 22.  And in most parts of the country summer is still blazing on in full, shining force.  The high today in Columbus will be in the 80s, for example, and down in Austin, Texas they’re still dealing with absurd, extreme “fry an egg on the sidewalk” heat, with the thermometer topping 100 degrees.

Not so in Stonington.  Here, autumn seems to have come early.  The last few days the morning temperature has been around 50 degrees — which is a bit bracing, candidly — and from the wood smoke smell you can tell that some people are using their fireplaces already.  Our daily highs are now in the 60s.  Add in a hefty breeze when you take your night-time walk, and you’re definitely in long pants and windbreaker territory.  The leaves haven’t started to turn — yet — but there’s definitely that whiff of fall in the air.

For many of us, autumn is a favorite season, and in many parts of the country we bemoan its brevity.  Summer heat hangs on into October, autumn passes in the blink of an eye, and then we move directly into the winter doldrums.  It seems that things will be different in Maine, where fall’s early arrival suggests that it plans on staying for a while.

In short, if you like autumn, come to Maine.  And bring your sweater.

Where East Meets West

If you’ve ever been out west — into the countryside, not the big cities like Denver or Phoenix — you know that people who live there tend to have a different sense of property, and physical space. 

Out west, things tend to get left where they are likely to be used again, rather than carefully returned to a garage or shed, stored, and locked up.  There’s plenty of space and room for everything, it never rains so what’s the big deal, and who’s going to come by and steal the stuff, anyway?  If you go out into the countryside, you’re likely to see things strewn about the property around many of the houses and trailers, whether it’s a car being worked on with parts left on a tarp, or a half-completed structure that looks like it hasn’t been worked on for a while.  Some people might think it looks junky, but others would say it is trusting, and relaxed, and practical, besides.  The owner bought all that wide-open space for a reason, so why not use it?

Maine has a bit of that devil-may-care quality that I usually associate with the west.  As you walk around, you’re likely to see things just left outside, right where they are going to be used again.  Boats, kayaks, canoes, oars, lobster traps, buoys, and boat trailers dot the landscape, and nobody seems to notice or care.  It’s a much more relaxed mindset.  Where city dwellers would have reflexive concern about potential theft, Mainers know from experience that it’s not likely that someone is going to steal a green kayak.  And they are right:  the police report section of the local paper really doesn’t report much in the theft department.

Getting used to this attitude requires Midwestern city dwellers like me to make a bit of a mental downshift, but once you get comfortable with it, it’s actually quite pleasant.

On The Waterfront

Sometimes it’s worth going out onto the rocks to get a photograph.  This is a picture taken yesterday morning of the houses along the waterfront of the Greenhead peninsula, just to the west of Stonington’s city center.  There wasn’t a breath of wind, and the water was as reflective as a looking glass.

Another Reason To Make Your Bed

When you were a kid, your Mom probably reminded you — like, maybe a billion times — to make your bed.  Of course, your Mom wasn’t looking for army barracks/being able to bounce a quarter off the bed precision.  Her desires were simple:  when she walked past your bedroom, she was just hoping for a room that looked reasonably tidy.  If your Mom was like our Mom, when she reminded you — again — of the need to make your bed, she might have added that your bedroom looked “like a tornado hit it.”

It turns out that in this, as in so many things, your Mom was right — again.

A recent survey found that people who make their beds are more likely to report getting a good night’s sleep, and also are having more sex than the non-bedmakers — apparently because an unmade bed is a turn-off to many people.  Let’s set aside, for a moment, the issues of exactly how scientific the survey was, and let’s forget that second result, because this is, after all, a family blog.  Let’s focus, instead, on the notion that people who make their beds are more likely to report getting a good night’s sleep.

The survey result that a well-made bed equates with better sleep seems intuitively right to me, for several reasons.  First, I think beds that are made tend to be cooler.  “If your bed is made, the sheets are in the shade” — and I think most people sleep better when their surroundings are cool.  It’s the same reason people often flip the pillow to enjoy the cool underside.

Second, I think if you get into an unmade bed you’re going to spend the first few minutes trying to get the bed into some reasonable semblance of order, anyway.  While the members of the Made Bed Brigade have slipped between the sheets, enjoyed the cool cotton feel, and are slipping blissfully off to dreamland, the non-bedmakers are wrestling with the hot sheets and covers, trying to get them unsnarled so they can lie down in peace and comfort.  In effect, they are trying to make the bed while they are already in it.  Fussing with the bed, and getting out to tuck in the sheets or smooth the comforter, is not exactly the best way to start the process of falling asleep.

And third, most people tend to subconsciously crave order, and a made bed speaks of order.  The inner voice of your Mom has been obeyed, and you can feel good about checking one of the boxes for the chores to be done during the day.  And when you come back to the bedroom that night, your bed will look attractive and welcoming, rather than like — well, like a tornado hit it.

So, make your bed, already!  You’ll sleep better.  And who knows?  There might be other benefits, too.

Masked Messaging

Now that it looks like masks are going to be with us for a while, we can expect to see a trend away from those blue-and-white paper masks and homemade cloth masks to more high-end masks with special messages or corporate branding. The process is already starting, as shown by this mask that is for sale at one of the downtown Stonington shops.

Will masks with the Starbucks logo, for example, become as much a part of the Starbucks employee “uniform” as the barista’s apron? Will the political types among us use masks to alert us to their voting preferences? And will matching masks be offered as part of the complete ensemble at women’s fashion websites? How long will it be before mask ads become a familiar part of the Facebook experience?

The American economy tends to move pretty quickly on this stuff when there is money to be made, and American consumers will lead the way. Before we know it, masks will be just another part of keeping up with the Joneses.

As The Dow Turns

Those of us who have 401(k) plans regularly check on the stock market indexes to see whether the market is “up” or “down.”  One of the oldest and most well-down stock price indexes is the Dow Jones Industrial Average, which is often called a “blue chip” index because it includes some of the biggest companies in the country.  The Dow, the Standard & Poor’s 500, and the NASDAQ are a kind of financial pulse of the United States, consulted to see whether the economy is robust and healthy or weak and failing.

Most of us don’t really pay attention to it, but the Dow is supposed to represent a kind of reflection of the American economy as a whole.  And because the American economy is ever-changing, that means the roster of companies that make up the Dow has to change, too.  The last remaining member of the original Dow, which started in 1896, was General Electric, which ended a 122-year run in the index in 2018.  Sometimes the changes happen because the companies in the Dow falter, or are acquired, or succeed to the point where their stock splits, which would have an affect on the overall average.  And sometimes the index changes because the American economy is just moving in a different direction.

That point was driven home this week when it was announced that some of the well-known companies in the U.S. are being dropped from the Dow index and replaced by some of the companies in our “new economy.”  Energy giant ExxonMobil, which has been part of the Dow since 1928, will end its run at the end of this month.  In its stead, a company I’ve never heard of called Salesforce.com — described as an “enterprise software” concern — will join the Dow.  Pfizer, the drug company, and Raytheon, a well-known defense contractor, also will be taken off the index list, to be replaced by Amgen and Honeywell.  The changes are being made to account for Apple’s stock split and, according to the folks who run the index, are intended to “add new types of businesses that better reflect the American economy.”

The original Dow included companies like American Sugar, National Lead, Chicago Gas, and U.S. Leather, along with General Electric.  Now we’re talking about “enterprise software” concerns, biotech firms, and diversified technology conglomerates, and they are being added because a company that makes computers, smartphones, and other devices has been so successful that it is undergoing a stock split.  That’s a pretty good indication of how our economy has evolved, and how the evolution continues.

At The Burnt Cove Boil

Tonight we tried a new place for dinner. It’s called the Burnt Cove Boil, and it was great. I only wish we’d found it sooner.

In Maine, if you’re talking about a “boil,” you’re talking about shellfish. The BCB offers you a prime picnic table right next to the waters of Burnt Cove, paper towels, a succulent Stonington crab, steamed corn on the cob, a whole lobster, a wooden pick to extricate the crab and lobsters meat, and an ice cream sandwich for dessert — all for a very reasonable price. Oh, and one other thing — a baseball-sized rock to smash the assorted claws, legs, and tails as part of the participatory dining process. Beverages are BYOB.

The food was terrific and fresh from the boat, the setting was beautiful, and the shellfish smashing felt pretty darned satisfying after a long day of remote work. Burnt Cove Boil, in Stonington, is highly recommended. Be sure to ask for Jake.

The Quiet Of The Morning

I woke up at about 4 a.m. this morning, which is earlier than normal.  I tried to go back to sleep, hoping for another hour or so of shut-eye, but after tossing and turning for 15 minutes and realizing I was wide awake, I decided to yield to the inevitable, get up, and enjoy the quiet of the morning.

I like sleep as much as the next person, but I also don’t really mind those days when absolute wakefulness comes early.  Mornings are definitely a special time here.  It is so quiet that your ears almost begin to ache as they search for any hint of a sound, and the thrum of a car on a distant street heading toward the harbor, or the cawing of a crow in one of the neighborhood trees, seems almost deafening.  The headlights of pick up trucks turning onto the road toward Greenhead Lobster flitter briefly across the walls, and there is a faint taste of salt in the pre-dawn air.  After last night’s rain, the sky was clear as crystal, with the morning constellations at first standing out brightly against the broad sweep of the Milky Way, and then hanging on to the west before being overwhelmed as the first glimmers of daylight emerge to the east and the dim outlines of the rocks below our deck start to emerge from the nighttime gloom. 

Mornings are a good time to stand outside and enjoy the silence and then to putter about, straighten things up, put the dishes away, turn to some random Mozart on the Idagio app, and enjoy that first steaming cup of coffee and the coolness of the air.  On mornings like this you need to relish the moment and let all of the senses run free.  I’ll be more tired than normal tonight, for sure, but for now I will enjoy the quiet of the morning.   

Seeking Skillet Suggestions

We’ve got a cool new helper in the kitchen.  Dr. Science and the GV Jogger sent us a skillet as a housewarming gift, to help round out our very limited supply of Stonington cooking implements. 

The skillet was hand forged by the skilled blacksmiths and treated by the artisans at the Lockhart Ironworks of Logan, Ohio.  It’s a beautiful piece of work that even came with a cool mini-skillet that we’ve hung in a place of honor on the magnetic strip that runs along one wall of our kitchen.

I’ve always wanted a true skillet, which is one of the most versatile cooking devices you can have.  Skillets also can become kind of heirloom items that get passed down from generation to generation.  So, I want to make sure I treat this skillet with the care and respect it so richly deserves.  The key is to make sure that the skillet becomes properly seasoned and develops a natural non-stick surface.  The Lockhart Ironworks note says that it has already pre-heated the finished skillet and treated it with a layer of coconut oil for seasoning purposes.  It recommends that we apply a thin coat of our “preferred oil” and cook a meat that is rich in fat or oil during the first few uses to help with the seasoning process.  And of course the skillet needs to be carefully dried and oiled after each use to prevent rusting.

So, I’m seeking instruction and guidance from my internet friends.  What should our “preferred oil” be, and what are some good meats to cook to help establish the desired seasoning and achieve the patina that will move this skillet into heirloom territory?  Suggestions would be much appreciated!

Steve McQueen

Our summer TV fare this summer has featured a lot of trips to the Turner Classic Movies On Demand channel, and lately we’ve been checking out a number of films featuring one of Hollywood’s biggest stars of the ’60s and ’70s — Steve McQueen.  We’ve watched some of his most memorable movies, including The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, The Cincinnati Kid, The Sand Pebbles, Bullitt, The Thomas Crown Affair, and Papillon.

Steve McQueen was an iconic figure, and I’m not sure that any actor since has created the kind of distinctive persona that McQueen so firmly established.  He was the ultra-cool, imperturbable character who didn’t say much, comfortably moved on the fringes of society, and wasn’t beholden to conventional behavior or lifestyles.  And his most popular roles contributed to that particular persona — like The Great Escape, where McQueen played “The Cooler King,” an unflappable prisoner of war who constantly tried to escape and was routinely sent to the “cooler” for solitary confinement, where he entertained himself by bouncing a baseball off the wall of his cell and catching it, and Bullitt, where he played a tough-as-nails police detective who didn’t show a drop of sweat during the film’s classic car chase scene through the streets of San Francisco.

My favorite McQueen film is The Magnificent Seven — it’s one of those movies that I will always stop to watch if I see that it is on — but the films we found to be a bit of a revelation were The Sand Pebbles, where McQueen played a disaffected sailor serving on a U.S. gunboat during troubled times in China in the 1920s, and Papillon, where McQueen played a French prisoner serving time in a notorious prison camp in French Guiana who never loses his iron determination to live and reach freedom.  McQueen wasn’t just the walking embodiment of cool — the guy really could act, and he was nominated for a best actor award for his work in The Sand Pebbles.

Kudos to Turner Classic Movies for screening multiple films for certain actors that allow us to take a deep dive into the career of one of Hollywood’s most memorable stars.

 

Harbor Dreamscape

A heavy fog moved ashore last night, leaving the world mist-shrouded and opaque for my walk this morning. As I walked down Main Street toward the center of town, this scene seemed hauntingly familiar. It reminded me of a vista from a dream, where everything lacks sharp edges and seems somehow unfinished.

At The Holbrook Island Sanctuary

Maine is, almost by definition, off the beaten track, and it has a lot of parks and natural areas that are not very well known.  One of them is the Holbrook Island Sanctuary.  Yesterday morning Kish and I went “off island” to the mainland to visit the Sanctuary and get in some hiking on a sunny, late summer day.

The Holbrook Island Sanctuary is a huge nature preserve in Brooksville that has been kept in a natural state for decades.  The property was acquired by a nature lover, Anita Harris, who donated the land to the state of Maine in 1971, and things seem to have been kept as they were then.  The area is so rustic that the roadways in and out are packed earth, rather than asphalt, and the only facilities are a picnic area and a few outhouses.  But it offers lots of interesting trails, the ruins of abandoned buildings, some old family cemeteries, and a chance to explore some of the different Maine ecosystems, from rocky coastlines to mud flats to steep hills, marshes, ponds, and deeply forested woodland mixed with intermittent meadows.  It’s a favorite destination for birders, hikers, and nature lovers.  The Maine state park website says that “alert visitors can see abundant signs of deer, fox, muskrat, beavers, otter, porcupine, bobcat and coyote.”  We apparently were not sufficiently alert — hey, it was pretty early in the morning, after all! — because we didn’t see any of those critters, but we did see a lot of birds.

The Sanctuary has nine trails, none of which seem to be super-difficult.  We took the Back Shore trail, which is well-marked and winds through forest and meadows and takes you past one of the cemeteries, where the gravestones date back to the 1830s, down to a rocky shore on the Penobscot Bay.  We got to the shore at close to low tide, which meant we got a good look at the shellfish shells and the seaweed-covered rock  beach.  From the shoreline you can watch sailboats glide by and catch a commanding view of Castine, Maine, on the opposite side of the bay. 

The Holbrook Island Sanctuary is a pretty place, and a kind of hidden gem.  With eight more trails to check out, we’ll definitely be back.

Moxie Insistence

Kish found a bottle of Moxie — the legendary official soft drink of Maine — in one of the local grocery stores and brought it home for us to try. I can report the Moxie is actually quite good. In fact, I liked it a lot, from the very first sip. It’s like a bold, flavorful, no-holds-barred root beer with an unknown additional ingredient— like ginger, maybe? You’d expect Mainers to go for something that packs a wallop, and Moxie definitely delivers.

Plus, I love the label on the bottle. When a guy who looks like that insists you drink Moxie, you’d better listen to him.

Colors Of Stonington

The pier at Greenhead Lobster provides a pretty good view of the west side of Stonington. The houses are built into the hillside and rise in rows from the water’s edge. The slope of the hillside is so abrupt that houses that are not right on the water still can have a commanding view of the bay. In local realtor parlance, they are not “waterfront,” but “water view.”

When you look at the town from Greenhead, you notice the colors. Most of the boats and houses are white, which itself gives a very Maine-y look, but some bolder colors are mixed in here and there — bright yellows and blues and reds, stately gray, and Opera House green. For some reason primary colors just look natural on the waterfront.

The Bane Of The Reminders

We’ve been working remotely for a while now, and with the coronavirus refusing to go away peacefully and quietly, it looks like we’ll be working remotely for a while longer.  That means technology will continue to play a key role in our ability to earn our living, and on a regular basis, new programs and applications will be rolled out for us to use in the remote working space.  And then we’ll have to learn them, and figure out how to incorporate them into our work days.

I accept all of this — really, I do.  I’m grateful for the tech geeks and programs that have kept the ball rolling during the shutdown period.  But there’s one thing about these new software applications that really, really bugs me — the reminders.

Here’s what always happens.  The new application is rolled out.  You sign up for it . . . warily.  And then the onslaught of reminders begins.  At first the reminders are somewhat friendly, like “Hey, we’re glad you’ll be using McGuffin.  Learn how!”  But quickly they become increasingly insistent.  “The McGuffin will help you collaborate seamlessly.  You can be trained on it through this free webinar!”  “Follow this link to take your McGuffin training!”  “Don’t forget your McGuffin training!”  “Hey, buddy boy — nice little remote working arrangement you’ve got here.  Be a shame if something happened to it because you didn’t take the McGuffin training.”  (OK, that last one is a bit of an exaggeration.) 

And if you do take the training, the emails don’t stop.  “Please rate the McGuffin training.”  “We’ve made great new  improvements to McGuffin.  Click here to find out about them.”  “We noticed you haven’t been making full use of McGuffin.  We’re monitoring what you’re doing, in case you have any doubt about that.”  (OK, that last one is a bit of exaggeration, too.)

The constant nagging quickly reminds you that you are up against a soulless computer program that will never tire or falter in its relentless quest to get you to click on the links and complete the stupid training.  You can’t ignore it.  It will keep bugging you to do its bidding and filling up your inbox with totally unwanted reminders.  It’s like an annoying, whining kid constantly tugging at your pant leg and asking you to buy it an ice cream cone.  Its need for immediate attention and responsiveness on your part becomes unbearable.   

There’s probably some new application out there that could stop the never-ending flow of reminder statements.  But if I sign up for it, the whole process will start over again.