Because I can.
I’m seriously in love with this little critter.
I know most people see them as pests and hate them.
But other than a few holes here and there….
This one’s never done any harm.
And a cuter garbage disposal for leftover salad scraps you’re not apt to find.
Last year we had a momma woodchuck and 4 babies.
This year…. only one.
I’ve yet to determine if it’s momma or one of her kids.
I just pulled these pictures off my camera.
I’d like to say they were taken last winter.
But actually… it was a few weeks ago.
Rain, that turned to sleet, that froze to ice.
Every single surface was coated.
And while I’ve never managed to do it’s beauty justice….
It doesn’t stop me from trying.
Our resident chucker was a bit ticked off the other day.
He was out back in the sun, enjoying a few apples…
Happily posing for pictures….
And an hour later?
Bam!
One cold woodchuck.
We had a squall move in from out of nowhere.
And I’m sure he was rethinking the decision to come out of hibernation.
No, he wasn’t happy.
With the snow…. or me.
My SIL called a month or so ago and said she was redecorating a room in her house. Living in Texas makes her homesick, so she asked if I could make copies of some of my father’s Maine paintings and mail them to her.
My late father was the Vice President of a Wall Street brokerage firm who relaxed as a weekend artist. He loved nothing more than sharing his work…. so I happily agreed.
Sadly, my father died a year after he retired and only had a short period of time to paint when we moved from New Jersey to Maine. We were very close, but that particular year was hard for me. It was transitional…. and moving to a rural Island where the only way off was by boat was a huge culture shock for a 15 year old city girl. I was knee deep in silly teenage angst and didn’t spend nearly enough time with him.
Something I will always regret.
So when I started pulling paintings?
I was a wreck.
My father died 41 years ago….
But I cried like it was yesterday.
Grief.
Sometimes it never lets go…..
Ah, spring!
In Maine? We tend to do it differently.
Like last Thursday, when one of our woodchucks came out of hibernation and said wtf?
The deer weren’t too happy either.
And before we knew it, what was supposed to be a light flurry…..
Turned into a full blown storm.
Complete with heavy wet snow weighing down the trees..
And turning everything into a winter wonderland.
Spring.
It isn’t always green.
Continuing our stroll around the museum, we found abstract landscapes…
A necklace challenged woman…
And a large amount of love.
The husband still had that what the hell am I looking at puzzled look on his face… and read all the detailed descriptions in hopes of enlightenment.
And speaking of light….
While I’m generally not a fan of realism, the play of light and shadows in this piece were spectacular.
And now?
Behold….
I found a rock!
As well as a nude on a mushroom.
Bet you’ve never seen that before.
Upstairs we found the Maine gallery.
Which welcomed us with bloody fish guts.
I’d have preferred an apple martini, but whatever.
There were Maine scenes.
Including this melancholy piece of women waiting for their men to return from the sea.
There was an extremely long panoramic of Main Street, Rockland in the 1800’s.
Did you know it’s known as the Lobster Capitol of the World?
You do now.
There was a model ship, which after those amazing examples we’d seen in Virginia…. looked like a 4 year old had built it.
Btw… did you know it’s bad luck to say the word pig on a lobster boat? I’ve known fisherman who won’t even bring a ham sandwich on board…. though no one could ever tell me where that started.
What does this have to do with Maine? Other than the fact it’s made with seashells, I have no idea.
I’ve certainly never seen a lobsterman wear one.
I’ve also never seen one wear that.
For which I am quite thankful…..
Done with the museum, I picked a restaurant on the Camden waterfront.
It had a nice view.
And a tasty Maine sipper.
But the husband wasn’t satisfied with the small lunch menu, so we just had clam chowder….
And wondered when that eagle was going to swoop down and snag a piece of fish.
Though I suggested a few other places to eat, the husband opted for Chinese take out…
Which was disappointing, again. It seems no matter how many places we try, they’re always awful.
My shrimp lo mien? Tasted like soap.
The beef and broccoli? Like they used Alpo for sauce.
Blech!
This is a place I’ve always wanted to visit but never have… so on a rainy, blustery day a while back? We did.
The Farnsworth is famous in these parts for it’s extensive collection of Maine artists….
With the Wyeth’s being front and center.
I’ve always liked Andrew, and on the day we visited there was a special exhibit of his work from WW1.
Art is a strange thing, and totally subjective… so what moves me might leave you flat.
But hey, it’s my blog. My choice.
This simple painting of a helmet filled with pine cones for example.
You’ll have to pardon the reflections in a lot of these shots…. it’s nearly impossible to avoid with the bright gallery lights and glass.
While not known for his portraiture…
This series of photos showing Wyeth at work was quite interesting.
As was the case filled with drawings he did at the age of 8.
Huh…
I’m pretty sure my 8 year old artwork looked something like this:
The next gallery showcased Wyeth’s Maine pieces.
And trust me, they really capture the feel of our coast.
There was also a section of these…
Halloween!
Which looked much better without the reflection of the paintings from the other side of the room.
But you get the idea.
Nothing says Halloween in Maine like a skeletal ship’s captain.
Making our way through the museum we found a fiber artist….
Who had some unusual installations…
Proving that art comes in all shapes and sizes.
Down the stairs and into the main gallery…
A tribute to Maine’s agrarian culture…
And it’s crustaceans.
Yes, that is a marvelous pile of blown glass lobster claws.
It should be noted that while I grew up strolling happily around MOMA in New York, the husband has absolutely no tolerance for modern art.
And I have to admit….. watching him puzzle over what he’s looking at is half the fun of visiting museums together.
I keep telling him that it’s more important to experience art, to feel it… than to understand it.
But he just wrinkles his nose and says….
“Yes. But what the hell is it?”
There were a few Rockwell Kent pieces….
Whose work has sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
As well as this:
A table to draw a self portrait.
Which made me very glad we hadn’t run into this fellow.
To be continued….
I love to word.
I love to read them, write them, and learn them.
And I love weirdo words most of all.
When you travel you hear words unique to certain regions and words used in different contexts.
Words!
Ya gotta love them.
So when I saw this the other day?
I knew I had to share.
I admit I’ve been known to make use of dingleberry, dicombobulated and kerfuffle now and then…. although I’m not nearly old enough to drop whippersnapper into a conversation any time soon.
In Maine we tend to say things are wicked. As in “That margarita is wicked good” or “That beer is wicked cold”.
We also can lose control of our cars and end up in the puckerbrush.
Mainers say ayuh when we mean yes.
We call submarine sandwiches Italians.
If you’re cute? We’ll call you cunnin’.
If something is the best? We’ll say it’s finest kind.
If you live far away from town? That would be the willy wacks.
And if you live really far away from town? That’s bumblefuckEgypt.
So educate me.
What words do you use in your backyard?
Our local feed store is a delightfully quirky place.
Owned and operated by a wonderful man who shares our love of critters, I always look forward to shopping there.
Case in point….
When a turkey chick failed to sell last year because it had a deformity of it’s wing? He adopted it.
The bird is now large, spoiled silly and something of a feed store mascot.
When the temperature drops to near freezing?
She comes inside and stays by the wood stove…
Because even turkey birds get cold.
Please note there are two chickens under the table as well.
I love my town!!
Well now you can.
We had a lot of visitors this past winter.
These are pictures from back in January because I’m still playing catch up from the vacation posts.
Our buck kept his rack a lot longer than usual.
But it didn’t stop him from apple picking.
Or sticking his tongue out at the photographer.
Cheeky little bugger.
Father and son…
Or daughter, it’s hard to tell at this stage.
River's world..... 