The Light is Still There

Tonight was the lunar eclipse of the Super Moon. 

I was determined to see if I could capture a picture of it with my camera. We had a tripod, and I used a zoom lens. Thus far, I had not been successful taking night pictures. But, it was the Super Moon, I thought maybe it's enlarged brilliance would make it easier to capture something in the dark. 

We watched from our driveway as the full, white moon began to darken with the Earth's shadow. There seemed to be a lot of ambient light, so we threw the equipment in the car and drove to the field of our small, local airport. 

That's when things seemed to turn a bit magical.

As we drove down our street, people were standing on their porches, some in their pjs and some had set up lawn chairs in the street, all heads turned to and illuminated by the moon's light. 

We got to the field and set the tripod up, using a headlamps. I set the timer for a time-lapse exposure. This was the first time I had used it. 

The stars were bright, the night clear of clouds. It got cold as the eclipse shadow grew across the face of the moon. But, just before it was completely in shadow, the darker parts began to take on an orange glow. That glow of the sun's rays slipping around the edges of our atmosphere was all the proof we needed, that there is always a light, somewhere.

As the Earth aligned in the direct path between sun and moon, in that night field, on the edge of this continent, we took comfort in knowing that nothing could completely extinguish the light of our great star. 

As I said, magical.

The Rudest Canadian

Tonight we drink our Goose Island IPAs in honor of the goose on Hog Island who tried to steal our lunch, today. It all started wonderfully, on a pristine day on Eggemoggin Reach. We pushed off of the boat landing in Brooklin, ME. 

That's Hog Island, up ahead. We beached there for lunch. After pulling the kayaks up onto the beach, we began to explore a bit. 

As we rounded the south side of the island, we noticed a goose wandering the rocks. This was odd. We figured it must have been injured. It's my understanding that geese will wait until another flock comes along, then join them on their migration. We turned our attention back to our picnic spot. 

We heard him before we saw him. "Honk! Honk!"  

"HONK, HONK, HONK!"

Uh-oh. He knew we had food. 

"HONK! HONK!"

Mr. Maineiac said, "Geese can be nasty. They nip. We need to get out of here."

So we planned a great escape. The mister grabbed the lunch cooler and went to the left. I ran to my kayak, hopped in, and pushed off. Mr. Maineiac got the Canadian to follow and then quickly changed course and ran to his kayak. We paddled madly southeast. As we tried to make a fast get-away, we realized that we were not alone. 

"HONK! HONK!" The Canadian had followed us into the water! 

We also made a mistake and had headed into the direction of a strong wind. The water was choppy and we were getting pushed into the rocky walls of the neighboring island. We had no choice but to turn around and head right back into the Canadian. It felt vaguely like an Albert HItchcock movie. Honking filled the air.

We decided to split around him. Mr. went left and I went right. Hate to say it, but I was relieved when the Canadian followed him. (He did have the cooler, after all!) Since we were no longer fighting the wind, we were able to cover a lot more distance in less time. The honking began to fade as the distance between us and the Canadian grew. We decided to head toward an island about five minutes away. As we paddled, I looked back and saw that the Canadian had gone ashore on a nearby island. (That one at 11 o'clock in the picture, below.) Yay! 

We settled into a rhythm and were soon beaching for lunch. 

We found a nice spot on some granite boulders and had a laugh about the Canadian. As we started eating our sandwiches, we heard it, "Honk, Honk." It was muted, but it was there.

I am not kidding. We searched the water, and sure enough there he was, heading toward us. He was just a dot, but the dot was getting bigger with each honk. 

Just as we were considering packing everything up,again, a group of kayakers came by as they made their way to the boat landing in Brooklin. The Canadian turned and began following them! It was a hoot. Initially, we could hear them exclaiming about how cool it was that he was coming right toward them. Then, he began to swim among them and held them up for quite a while as they tried to figure out how to loose him. Luckily for us, he followed them all the way into shore. They are just specks on this photo.

We sat back and enjoyed our lunch. There was no question, though, that we had just met the RUDEST Canadian, ever : )

Stonington, Deer Isle, Maine

Thirty-two years ago, I left my childhood home on the edge of the Great Plains and drove, solo, to Maine. You see, as long as I could remember wanting to live somewhere other than where I grew up, I had wanted to live in New England. My parents had honeymooned there. They were Easterners (I was born in NJ), and I saw how my mom pined for the trees and familiarity of the East. We often vacationed there in a rental cabin on the Jersey shore. My love for the ocean came early. Family pictures at the beach during those vacations are often missing me. I was in the water. 

That love never left. I grew up knowing that I wanted to live near the Atlantic (something about the depth of blue in the water in the late afternoon, when the sun was behind us--it's the opposite on the West coast). The colonial architecture and history of New England, as well as the pictures of autumn leaves, enticed me. So, with a potential teaching job on the horizon, I packed my Chevy Cavalier over a weekend and off I went. 

Lots of living has happened since then. Some dreams filled, some not, and some have changed. However, one thing that I do manage to do is get to the ocean. Kayaking has brought me even closer and led me to this exquisite place on Maine's northeastern coast--Deer Isle/Stonington. No more words. As you look at these pictures, be sure to imagine smelling salt air and rosa rugosa. This place is saturated with those aromas.

It is possible to melt into this.