Tag Archives: photos

Random tidbits.

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We’ve had some much needed, glorious rain lately and though another leak has sprung in the continuing nightmare that is our roof…. don’t ask, I’m too disgusted to talk about it ….. our once brown lawn is green again.

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With just a hint of leaves starting to turn in the background.

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I’m wondering how vibrant the autumn show will be this year due to the long summer drought. Fingers are crossed.

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So true I had to share.

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Asparamancer?

It’s official, I’ve heard everything now.

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Damariscotta Lake

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We ducked into Damariscotta Lake State Park recently for a quick picnic lunch. It was on the way to the motorcycle repair shop and we were hungry.

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Take out Italians always taste better by a body of water.

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Being after Labor Day we had the place pretty much to ourselves which was sweet.

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Bye bye tourists.

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I know we need your money, but it really is much nicer without you.

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The lure of the open road.

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We picked up the husband’s motorcycle from the shop last week.

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And a mere $1,100 later….

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He was back on the road.

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And though I was ready to say goodbye to the bikes…

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I knew he was enjoying the feel of the wind in ( what’s left of ) his hair.

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There really is nothing like it.

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And I’m thinking the bikes will probably be with us a bit longer.

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Neighbors, past and present.

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A local resident posted these photos, (which were actually postcards from 1933) of our neighbor’s house on our town’s FB page recently.

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It’s a beautiful old home which was once a rose garden farm.

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That must have been something to see. Can you imagine living next door to acres of roses? The scent would be heavenly.

Less fragrant but no less impressive? Our current neighbor’s vegetable farm across the street.

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There’s a long tradition of growing in my little part of the world.

👍

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Squirrelly

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Our bird bath has been a Godsend to wild creatures this dry, drought ridden summer. Birds bathe and numerous animals drink… like this thirsty little fellow.

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Now that the random apple tree has matured we’re seeing a lot more squirrels.

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The bath is simply a jump away.

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And perfect on hot days.

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As is splooting in the shade.

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🙂

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Selfies ruin everything.

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I admit to taking a selfie now and then, usually when we go somewhere wonderful… but mainly because I have a husband who never takes pictures. Ever. It’s a harmless if slightly narcissistic endeavor, and my mother is dead… so if not me, who?

Then there’s the Instagram crowd. The influencers. The vapid youth of today who get paid ridiculous sums for photos that go viral. They’ll go to any lengths to get a breathtaking selfie and call me cold hearted, but I rarely feel bad when I read they fall into the Grand Canyon or off a speeding train.

Which is probably why I cringed when I read this article.

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I have been to Le Gorges du Verdon and it was fabulous. Mainly because there was no one else there.

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The husband, a friend and I drove through the French Alps for a solid 10 hours and saw only one other person. A sheep herder with his flock. It was beyond marvelous.

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That’s me sitting on the wall filing my nails waiting for the husband to climb back up from below.

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The gorge was wild and wonderful. Unspoiled nature ruled.

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As did the goats.

We visited in the early 90’s. The fact that’s it now jam packed with insipid, shallow Instagram tourists breaks my heart. And I bet the goats don’t like it either.

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More antiquing in the Mid Coast.

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Too many antique stores, too little time. Not to mention money.

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Mantiques? That sounded like trouble…. and as soon as we walked through the door of the large converted barn I feared my checkbook might not survive.

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1939 Rockola Art Deco juke box with unusual pop up speaker? Fabulous! The husband drooled on behalf of the man cave, but I broke his heart and refused to fork over $9,995.00.

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You know it’s not your every day thrift store when you see things like this.

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Embalming pump? That’s a coffee table piece sure to spark scintillating conversations.

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Any ideas what that is…?

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Apparently pumps of all sorts are popular.

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I got a huge kick out of the price tag description on this item.

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Lock the kids in the sweat box. That’ll keep ‘em quiet.

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If a naked blonde doesn’t encourage Junior to save his pennies, nothing will.

Three full floors of amazing items later we almost made it out the door without purchasing anything and then…

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The husband fell in love.

A long conversation with the owner followed. Photos of the Barn Mahal were shared, placement of the item was discussed. Meanwhile, I sought the price tag…

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And while slightly less painful than the first jukebox, it was still a tad more than I planned on spending that day.

Husband eyes were flashing that “I have to own it!” look and yours truly had to do some quick thinking.

A jukebox.

From 1946?

It only played 78’s!

Perry Como, Doris Day, Mitch Miller, Bing Crosby? Not man cave music. Nope. Not even close.

Phew! That was close.

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