UNDER THE MAINE SUN

PREPARING FOR PHASE ONE

Steve told me to start looking at bathroom and lighting fixtures, and I had already selected the windows.  Tile for the bathroom floor was also on the list.  I chose standard items for the bathroom, going with Kohler.  I found a great bathroom source in Northport Bath.  There I saw the claw foot tub that would later be installed in Phase IV.  While the plumber would order the Kohler fixtures, I needed to order other items such as the vanity and mirror.  These I found at Northport in white beadboard.

The laundry, as it was originally, would remain part of that bathroom but the appliances would be replaced.  I discovered Kelsey's in Rockland.  My dream was to have the Maytag Neptune drying closet.  That meant sacrificing size for the washer in order to fit the space.  I chose a Whirlpool frontloader that was adequate for my needs.  Steve gave me the measurements that would be my guide.

During this time I called my friend, Nancy Boyd and we met for dinner.  During the course of our conversation, I mentioned Sarah's situation and the mundane job she had obtained.  Nancy recalled that one of her customers at the shop was the manager of a little art movie theatre in Camden called the Bayview Cinema and she was often looking for help.  That would be right up Sarah's alley.

THE MOVE TO MAINE

The task for the weekend was a job interview for a nursing management position at the Knox Center, a long term care facility under the auspices of Pen Bay Healthcare.  It had snowed during the night and left several inches on the ground.  I was undaunted -- I had 4-wheel drive.

I drove cautiously along the back road to Route 1 at Lincolnville Beach.  Cresting the rise and suddenly having before me the view of Penobscot Bay, sparkling in the sunlight, made me catch my breath.  Islesboro was straight across and the ferry was just arriving at the slip.  It would be a piece of cake now, driving down the coast along Route 1 to Rockland.

My 180 degree turn came when I was almost to Camden.  Fortunately, the driver that was approaching from the opposite direction was experienced and managed not to run into me as my car turned backwards and slid over the ice.  My back was now to him and I braced myself for the crash, the sickening crunch of metal on metal. It didn't come.  I found myself instead, unscathed in the ditch. The other driver was apparently used to this, and seeing New Jersey plates just figured "from away."  He was already nowhere to be seen.

COST OF THE RAT WARS

Laura and I were sitting around talking last evening and she brought up the subject of what the Rat Wars had cost her in fines and other expenses.  It was over $1000.

I threw in the cost to me.  During the period of her incarceration I had a book publication date and had scheduled commitments connected with that.  I had to be away twice during that time and had counted on Laura to care for my cats.  It was close to time for me to leave on the first trip when I learned she was in jail.  One friend who might have done it was going through a nasty divorce and her court date was in the middle of all this.  I couldn't ask her.  Another neighbor who had fed the cats for me in the past, had moved away.  I didn't feel I could ask Richard.  I didn't know him well enough and besides, he was a dog man, not into cats.

I was stuck.  I was short on cash but long on credit.  I had no alternative but to take the group to Pussy's Port O'Call while I was away.  Now I have to say here that Richard and Peggy Wilson who own the cattery are exceptional people and they and their staff of cat lovers take excellent care of the pets entrusted to them.  The accommodations are excellent -- bright and clean with ocean or forest views.  Every cat there is given individual attention and the staff remembers all the names.

LOOKING FOR LAND

Suffice it to say that after living alone with my cats for several years in my big house, I'm ready to downsize.  I have to sell the big house first, however, not being heavily financially endowed.  With the present market, I've decided to wait awhile longer for that.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to offset the urge to build the next place by looking for land to put it on.  I've decided it must be waterfront.  I turned to the first line of inquiry -- the internet.  There I found four properties in the county where I now live and work.  They were in pairs and were all in a price range that I could manage.  All showed nice bodies of water and I was imagining sitting on my eventual front porch in a wicker or Adirondack chair and mesmerizing myself with the view.

Of course, the whole process of the plan depends on the cost of building a small house but with character, and I planned to speak with Steve, my contractor, about that factor.  I was due to see him soon anyway about a repair to yet another section of my old roof and would show him the adorable little house I had found in the Bungalow Plans book.  I would also want him to see the proposed land to determine if the house would blend with it.

NORMAN THE MOOSE

It's two years now since Norman took his famous walk through my driveway.  I keep hoping for him to reappear.

I was sitting in my kitchen that morning in my robe and slippers (I can be quite lazy if I don't have to go anywhere), eating a bowl of cereal and watching "The Sons of Katie Elder," with John Wayne.  It was a bright spring morning.  Suddenly, I heard someone calling my name accompanied by frantic pounding on my door.  I didn't see anyone at the screen door in the kitchen so ran to the one in the back hall.  No one.  But now it was coming from the screen door and I ran back. 

"Moose!  There's a moose!  Moose! Hurry!  This is what you moved to Maine to see!" It was one of my neighbors that I barely knew, jumping up and down and pointing.  There, just then ambling behind my Toyota Forerunner parked in the driveway, was a young moose.  I watched entranced as he emerged from behind the car and continued down the wilderness path that goes back to three hundred acres of state land.

TURTLES

When my daughter Sarah and I moved into our Belmont house, we were told to expect egg-laying snapping turtles in our yard every June.  They came.

The house is on the Duck Trap River near its origin at Tilden Pond.  The giant, prehistoric-looking reptiles quietly appear out of the river, alone or several, each morning and evening.  They find a pleasing spot in the sun, dig a shallow hole and upend themselves over it.  Thus they remain, motionless, until the eggs are deposited.  They cover them over with a layer of sand or dirt, then amble away, back to the river.

The first summer there was little drama except for the thrill of watching them each day.  The second summer began differently.  We looked out the back door first thing one morning and two beady eyes stared back. A wrinkled, leathery, hard-shelled creature sat, unmoving, on the patio not ten feet from the door.

I opened the door with caution and edged closer to inspect the visitor.  She watched me with equal wariness. I retreated back inside after a good view of her flipper-like thick legs and dragon tail. She turned and shuffled behind the firepit.  There she rested for a few minutes, then went on her way out to the driveway and to the marsh beyond.

PLANNING THE RENOVATION, AND CATS

Aaron seemed to be the man for the job and we arranged that he would put the appropriate hole through the kitchen wall, and finish the front of the shed with garage doors. By the end of summer both tasks had been accomplished. I came for a week in October, and so did my furniture. The greenhouses were now gone and only odds and ends of Ernie's belongings remained. A meeting was set with the architectural designer and his assistant, and Aaron agreed to attend.

As the designer rolled out plan after plan, I kept looking at Aaron, trying to read his expression. He looked a little shell-shocked. The plans were lovely -- almost what I had envisioned -- and more. The designer assured me that it could all be done within the budget I had stipulated. He would take care of overseeing everything. He wanted Aaron to gather cost figures before our next meeting later in the fall.

After the designer and his assistant left, Aaron sat me back down at the table and leaned in for serious discussion. "Remember that those guys are from Camden. Those bit dormers are for Camden. You don't need big dormers. Your guests will hardly notice them with this beautiful setting. They'll look up briefly and say, 'yeah, great dormers.' Then they'll go on ooing and ahing over the back yard and the river. The one smaller dormer for the bathroom is all you need. Those big dormers would be at least $15,000. Also, gathering cost figures should be his job.

MOVING TO MAINE

Most people as they get older, start thinking about warmer climates and year-round sun.  I decided to move to Maine.  I envisioned my future life.  I would attend cultural events, buy a kayak, go on schooner cruises, and see puffins and whales.  Maybe a moose.  And eat lobster.

I was always fascinated by old houses -- a carry over from my mother's obsession.  I would admire them as I drove by, read magazines and watch TV shows about renovation.  Finally, the opportunity came to buy an old cape on a wooded six acres on a small river in Maine and I grabbed it.  The realtor seemed quite surprised when I stated that I wanted to submit a bid.  I think she thought I was just another tire-kicker.

Maine Sun - Chapter One - Divorced - The Back Story of How I Came to Move to Maine in the First Place

After we lost our baby boy, Alexander, we went our separate ways emotionally, although it took eight years to reach the point of divorce while all the little hurts and grievances piled up.  It became like a snowball rolling downhill to its ultimate end, smashed against a wall.  One day it was still the idea of divorce, a goal to be attained maybe. The next it was a reality.  The reality was very different from the idea.

I don't know what we could have done to prevent it.  We went to counseling to no avail.  Our minds and hearts were simply closed off to each other, both talking, neither hearing.

BATS

Living in an old house one often comes up against the problem of bats.   Or rather, it might be that the bats have a problem with us.  When I first learned that they were living in the walls and attic of my old 1832 house, I innocently thought that one result of renovating the entire house would be their moving out.

Over the ensuing years I have learned to live with them -- I don't bother them and they don't bother me.  I did learn from my contractor Steve that I have small brown bats and they migrate in the winter, returning in May to raise their young.  It is the females that usually reside in houses, the males preferring hollow trees and similar locations.  I did have him plug up any entrances that we found on October after they left, but they found new ways in the next year.  I also made him put up six bat houses in tall trees around my property, but I've never seen any evidence of bats having taken up residence there.