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Junior chuck is still here and momma still tolerates his presence even though she has a new batch of children.
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This is surprising and has never happened before.
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She usually kicks the kids to the curb as soon as they can fend for themselves.
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But Junior persists. Though like every adult child who lives in the basement, I’m sure he gets on her nerves now and then.
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Walking through the tree tunnel….
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Brings you to a little beach entrance…
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And a beautiful home at the end of the trail.
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The path simply stopped. It dead ended and other than strolling across someone’s lawn, our only option was to turn around.
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With a last look at a perfectly placed hammock…
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We headed back the way we came and as always… noticed different things.
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The husband was mesmerized by this gravity defying stone and had to investigate.
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No adhesive, no bolts.
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Just the perfect combination of natural depressions and angles.
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Back on the path…
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I took time to love me some rocks.
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The striations, the colors.
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The wind blown ruined hairdo…
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It was all good.
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I do love my rocks.
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Quirky windswept trees have so much character.
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But watching where we were stepping became important in places. I don’t think this trail has been repaired for decades.
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If you ever visit Maine you have to do one of the cliff walks. It’s a truly fabulous way to experience our coast up close and personal.
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Rugged, rocky and glorious.
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You won’t find many straight sandy beaches here and that’s just fine with me.
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Windswept and craggy is more my style. Look at that house! Pure perfection.
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If you don’t mind a little wind.
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The cliff walk is well named as you’re basically walking along the edge of a cliff.
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Some sections are wider than others but the views are all the same.
Beautiful.
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Was I in rock heaven?
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You betcha!
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I know it’s hard to tell but this is a photo of a bald eagle fishing the ocean.
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Such majestic creatures.
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Around this next bend was a beach.
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And nice we ducked through the trees…
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To be continued…
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After the pretty but oh so short Fisherman’s Walk path, we knew there had to be more to see so we continued onto the beach.
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Reaching the curve….
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We found another path.
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Knowing it wasn’t a continuation of our first walk but eager to explore new ground… we kept going.
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Past some fragrant wild beach roses.
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And up some large stone steps.
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Through some root bound trees.
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Where we caught glimpses of the ocean. Some of the walking was treacherous, but I’d figured out that we were on another of my bucket list trails – the York Cliff Walk – so we sucked it up and hiked.
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Nice.
Tell us when we’re already committed.
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To be continued…
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It’s Japanese Iris season at Casa River and I couldn’t be happier.
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While I’ve never been a fan of the fleshy full size irises that always hump their monstrous rhizome roots out of the ground… I adore their smaller less arrogant cousins.
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Daintier, more delicate and frankly less look at me darling, aren’t I gawgous!… they’re a lovely pop of perennial purple.
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Number two rhododendron is now in full bloom though not nearly as full as it’s neighbor. Why this should be is a question that stumps gardeners everywhere. Same soil, same sun exposure yet one is always bigger and better. Personally I think Mother Nature just likes to keep us guessing.
And if you’re wondering what the woodchucks have been chewing this week ?
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The toothy little buggers are eating marigolds!.
Marigolds!
The plant so disgusting no one will eat them. I don’t even like the silly things but have been putting them in my pots on the barn porch simply for the woodchuck gag factor. I thought they’d be safe.
I was wrong.
Very wrong.
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Still working my way down the There are so many wonderful places to see in Maine I fear I won’t live long enough bucket list… we headed south to York.
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Fisherman’s Walk is beautiful… but let me tell you it’s not easy to find. Punching the address in GPS brought us to someone’s private driveway. Backing up, we turned around multiple times, then turned around some more…. searching in vain for signage. How bad was it? The husband was so frustrated he stopped and asked a stranger.
Trust me, that’s bad!
The local man pointed us down a hill but said we couldn’t park there. Of course not, that would have been too easy. Turning around again, we found parking, but it was permitted for residents only. By this time my husband had lost all enthusiasm for the experience, but I do not admit defeat easily. Circling around again scored us a free spot… and vindication for me. Though we still had to hike back up a hill and down another hill to find what we’d come to see.
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A scenic coastal walking path.
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Make that a poop free scenic coastal walking path. My very favorite kind.
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Lobster boats were plentiful.
And look…
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Now that we were actually on the path?
A sign for the path.
Never let it be said the state of Maine doesn’t have a sense of humor.
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I didn’t know what to expect, so the chances of being disappointed were slim.
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But it was a gloriously cool sunny day, so off we went.
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Past private piers…
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And hilltop homes.
And then? Nothing.
It ended.
We had driven an hour and a half for a 3 minute walk and I was getting some serious stink eye from my spouse.
Refusing to believe it, I kept walking. Past a high fence. Across a road. By a marina. Across another road. Past some tennis courts. Through a parking lot. Until I found…
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A beach.
To be continued…..
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My husband has a bad habit of leaving the little barn/shed doors open in the summer. He thinks he’s airing it out and cooling it off but in actuality all he’s doing is this:
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Giving momma and baby chucks another area to explore.
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And chew.
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They seem to enjoy it.
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Though if they start chewing tractor wires my husband may have to rethink this habit.
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This isn’t a large historic site by any means.
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But here’s a peak at the inside of the building.
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The store.
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Our guide, in the kitchen.
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And no, that isn’t poop. It’s rolled tobacco.
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Since our guide was rather long winded we ran out of time before we were able to explore upstairs …
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And they were literally locking the gates while we were still roaming around.
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Stockades.
I’m thinking of installing a set in our backyard… to be employed when the husband gets the urge to attend a rummage sale.
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The fort.
The end.
Anticlimactic, I know. But I didn’t want to spend the night there so we had to beat feet and leave.
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Next up on my things to do in Maine before the husband goes back to work bucket list was Old Fort Western. It’s one of those landmarks we drive by often but never take the time to explore.
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Old Fort Western in Augusta is the oldest surviving wooden fort in the United States. It started life as a trading post, then a manned station during the French and Indian war, and then a store supplying early settlers.
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In 1775 Benedict Arnold started his expedition to capture Quebec from this fort. Arnold’s party, which included future Vice President Aaron Burr, stayed at the fort before marching north.
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For a time it was a private home and now, a historic site.
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The day we visited there were a few reenactment soldiers in period dress on loan from Plymouth Plantation in Massachusetts.
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You know my husband enjoyed this part.
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Though they wouldn’t let him fire it for safety reasons.
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I love history and totally geeked out during the guided tour.
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Strategically placed on the highest navigable point on the Kennebec River…
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It guarded the colonists well and was never attacked.
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Though I can’t imagine life here was easy.
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To be continued….
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When there’s a summer thunderstorm on the horizon? We head for the barn porch.
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And if it’s cocktail hour?
We add an adult beverage.
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This particular storm was disappointing as all the good rumbling stayed to the north…
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But the gentle rain brought our old friends the ducks to the backyard and they’re always fun to watch.
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I don’t know how long mallard ducks live but we’ve had this visiting pair for close to 4 years now.
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When there’s rain and puddles? They plop right down and make themselves at home.
❤️
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River's world..... 