A lobster claw lamp in Bayside, Maine

100% Maine

Ethan and I were walking to the car in the pouring rain. Booms echoed somewhere out in the dark, sharper and more rhythmic than thunder.

“What’s that noise?” I asked.

“Gun shots.”

“Really? Someone’s just out there shooting in the middle of a storm?” He laughed.

“This is Maine, baby.”

It’s not often we get to experience lives other than the one we’ve become used to. To walk a road we’ve never traveled. Every little thing here delights or surprises, like the fact that on our front porch right now there is: A small outboard motor that doesn’t work; a mirror salvaged from the side of the road (yes, it had a “free” sign on it); and a piece of driftwood I am fashioning into a piece of art (a Maine Blue Fish to be exact and picture to follow when I’m done). In my Los Angeles neighborhood, all this would be labelled junk.  

Trash or treasure is, of course, in the eye of the beholder. The old reach-in freezer our cousin Gail gave us looked a little rough, but once  we hauled it out of her basement and cleaned the mold, spiders, and grime off, it was near to perfect. It is now in our basement, ready and waiting for the 1/2 a cow Ethan is buying from a friend of a friend, grass-fed Maine beef that will hopefully be better than what we usually buy at Costco (there is no Costco anywhere around here). And, it occurs to me that perfection is a mirage anyway, although at this moment, a red robin is picking at worms on our sloping front lawn, the dogwoods are blooming, and Blue is sleeping at my feet. The only imperfection is the American flag outside my screen porch, which has tangled itself around the pole. But that’s an easy enough fix. 

We’ve not gone fully local yet. I’ve not gotten chains for my bog boots, seen a moose, or tried a McLobster Roll. But Ethan bought some burnt orange Carhart pants and his workouts with our friend Gary include jogging down Route 3 with a log on his shoulder and dead lifting cinder blocks. Winter will be the real test, when the sun and the summer folks we used to be go away for a while. Call me crazy, but I can’t wait. 

Suzanne Rico on The Lobster in Maine

Out on The Lobster