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I don’t know if you remember, but last year I posted about a giant rubber duck that appeared out of nowhere in the harbor of a Maine town. No one knew where it came from or who deployed it… but everyone loved it and reported sightings with gleeful enthusiasm.
Now?
It’s back…. and yeah. Bigger and better than ever. 
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Last year it said “Joy”, this year it’s “ Greater Joy”.
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A random floating giant rubber duck is a beautiful thing.
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Our last stop in Stonington wasn’t planned, and we just happened to drive by… but it was a lovely end to the day.
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Random public access to beaches is common in Maine. They’re not marked, they’re not named, they just are.
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And sometimes they have a fabulous rock that looks like a sleeping walrus.
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Ah, Maine…
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This float had been pulled up for the season.
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And if you know anything about the coast of Maine, you know sand is at a premium.
Mostly it’s rocks, which my ever intrepid husband continues to climb…
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Not always gracefully.
😉
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Heading out of the harbor proper, we found some scenically beautiful spots.
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For gorgeous coastline, it’s hard to top Maine.
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We drove at will, no destination in mind. And sometimes cutting down side streets resulted in dead ends.
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Like a marina we didn’t know was there.
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Other times there were loop roads….
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With extremely peaceful seating.
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And if you want peace and quiet? Take a tip from that guy.
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He certainly had the right idea.
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Walking around the village, there were ample rocks.
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This is the Maine coast after all.
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We walked the harbor… taking in the sights, sounds and random clumps of rope.
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It’s a place frozen in time and all the better for it.
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A few old buildings have been spruced up for overnight accommodations, but there are no chain hotels and not a Denny’s in sight.
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It’s first and foremost a fishing town, and unlike many of its southern brethren has managed to hold back the inevitable tide of “progress”.
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If you’re ever in the area….
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It’s definitely worth a look.
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We have a group of sparrows that live to tease Lord Dudley Mountcatten .
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They perch on the deck railing and patio furniture… driving him absolutely insane when he’s on the back of the couch.
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So when we go outside for walkies? His Lordship is primed to hunt.
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Not that he ever comes close mind you. Those birds are too smart and too fast.
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But we chase them from bush to bush around the house and hope springs eternal.
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They know he can’t catch them, and seem to take great pleasure in the game.
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That sparrow is smiling. I know it.
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You can’t really tell from the picture, but trust me.. he was airborne here.
By the time we make a full trip around the house? They’re back on the railing…. and laughing.
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Lord Dudley on the other hand…
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🤣
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On a beautiful fall day in Maine, we drove up the coast to Stonington.
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A picturesque village… quaint and quite pretty.
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With the feeling you’ve stepped back in time.
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Stonington is a fishing town and known for being the largest lobster port in the state, if not the world.
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Last year they hauled in $43.26 million dollars worth of the glorious crustacean.
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And though I can’t eat it anymore… cue the random sobbing noises… I was still hungry after the two and a half trip.
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Enter the Harbor Cafe, one of only two restaurants in town.
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It sits right across the street from the harbor and at first glance seemed like a good choice.
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There were cocktails and my Pimms cup was delightful.
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The clam chowder was thinner than I like, but had a wonderful flavor as well as being loaded with clams.
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$23 seemed a bit steep for my crab roll but it was delicious, not the overly dressed crap that passes for crabmeat elsewhere. Husband was less than thrilled with his fried haddock as it was extremely thin and arrived in a plastic basket. Want to piss off my spouse? Charge him a high price and serve him a meal without a plate. The mashed potatoes that accompanied the fish were truly inedible. Real, but so over whipped as to be nearly liquid with an overpowering taste of margarine. Epic fail for what turned out to be a $102 bill with tip.
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But back to Stonington. Tourism has tried but thankfully failed to change the flavor of the town.
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And so we explored….
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It’s Maine.
It’s autumn.
No commentary necessary, just enjoy.
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❤️
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Since we weren’t in a huge hurry to get home, we took the longer scenic route back and that meant driving through the Northeast Kingdom.
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It’s a rural and mountainous region of Vermont, similar to areas in northern Maine with its low population density and differing political views.
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Unspoiled and undisturbed.
Beautiful? You betcha!
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This region takes their designation seriously so you’ll find “Kingdom” gas stations and “Kingdom” diners scattered throughout the area.
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There’s even a covered bridge staircase.
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While the majority of Vermont is an environmentally friendly, liberal, churn your own butter, Birkenstock type of place… the Kingdom is a bit wilder and leans much farther right. It’s often said there are two Maines, southern and northern.. I find that’s true of Vermont as well.
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And if you’re wondering how far north we were?
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I could see Canada from my window.
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And though we didn’t cross the border, Verizon let us know we might as well have.
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After dealing with constant pain in my right knee for the past two years, I finally cried uncle and made an appointment with an orthopedist. Thankfully it was a different orthopedist than the one who told me “It will either heal or it won’t” two years ago when the injury first occurred. She diagnosed a deep root radial meniscal tear ( the worst kind, the kind that doesn’t heal) as well as damage to my MCL and told me I’d probably need surgery. Wanting to avoid that…. I tried everything else. Ice, heat, massage, exercise, even acupuncture. Nothing worked and instead of getting better, it actually got worse. Groaning every time I got up and coming down stairs one at a time like an old woman was getting, well… old.
The new orthopedist did tests, and told me what I already knew… nothing had healed, and to add insult to injury, I also have holes in my cartilage now. Yay me. The options were slim – have surgery to remove the meniscus which would alleviate the pain but hasten the road to total knee replacement.. to which I said no thank you… or start with a cortisone shot and try physical therapy. I chose door number two.
After an ultra sound guided cortisone shot I was a seriously happy camper. On day one I had 40% less pain. By day three I could take stairs normally and felt 70% less pain upon standing. Why had I waited two years!! It was a miracle.
But then…
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Then I had to enter the torture chamber.
The week after my shot, I met the man I would pay to hurt me. And that’s exactly what he did. After an initial consultation he put me on the table and gave me the most painful deep tissue massage imaginable. He informed me my hamstring had contracted over the past two years and it had to be pressed and stretched back into service. I limped out of the building with my hammy screaming, barely able to drive home. It’s a good thing they only scheduled me for once a week because it took that long for the pain to subside.
Week #2 he prodded and pressed and took me into the huge gym attached to the building. Physical therapy my ass, I felt like I’d been thrown into NFL training camp. A plethora of squats, band work and what seemed like 300 knee bends later he made me pull and push 90 pounds of some weird weighted contraption down and back the entire length of the gym. When I was done I must have looked pathetic because he let me sit down with a pressurized ice cuff.
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(If those things didn’t cost $3,500 I swear I’d have one at home.) And again, I limped out of the building, sore for a solid week.
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Did I mention the therapy room has an entire wall of windows so everyone in the waiting room can watch your torture sessions? Fun idea.
Not.
Session number three began with him asking how much better I was feeling and me answering not much. He did some manipulations, said my patella was aggravated and proceeded to smooth out the inflammation with some stinky gel and what looked like a miniature squeegee. Whatever, it didn’t hurt and I didn’t have to go back to the gym so that’s a win in my book.
I did however go home with a sexy new accessory.
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Is that hot or what?
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Dudley does well on his harness/leash and knows his limitations, which in actuality is 30 feet. His chest to my wrist. His Lordship chooses the direction and we walk, stroll, sit and occasionally sprint. What we don’t do is climb trees.
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Until the other day when he sat at the base of the Bradford pear watching a bird one minute….
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And jumped onto the bark the next. Problem is, his lordship does not have any tree climbing experience and literally just hung there.
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He scooched a little farther up, with me trying hard not to laugh …
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And finally made it up on a lower branch. Which is when he looked at me as if to say, what the Hell do I do now?
One aborted climb later..
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It was over before it really begun.
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I give him an A for effort, but a D for technique.
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River's world..... 