Lost on a Loop Trail: Intestinal putrefaction
Sometimes I look to the past for inspiration. Like here on Page 84 from the July 26, 1925, New York Times. The ad fills up more than three-quarters of the page and includes four photographs.
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Never Not Amazed: Possibility aglow
Nine high school juniors leaned toward the screen to hear a guest speaker share that he was born blue, spent weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit, and had his first experience with homelessness when his mom took him from the hospital. His introduction to life was full of struggle.
Thinking in Public: Fashion peeves
Like most of us, I can be caught out among other humans sporting a less-than-elegant appearance, but most of the time I'm at least presentable. I'm aware, though, that my desire to be squared away when out and about puts me into a shrinking minority of out-and-abouters.
Ask the Anchor: How did Harpswell get its name?
Question from Bonnie Bailey: Is Harpswell the only town with that name? Are there any other Harpswells in the United States? Where did the name come from?
Island Law: Winter is coming
The fine for placing snow or slush on a public way is $205. The fine for operating a snow-removal vehicle with inadequate auxiliary lights is $154.
Cooking at 43° North: A chill in the air
I have to admit that November isn't exactly my favorite month. It's a time of frosty breezes and solitude. When I was young, the harvest had been completed and all the farm machinery had been put away by November. With the intense work over, the fields that had been vibrant green and full of promise in spring had turned stark and brown.
Harpswell’s Private Chef: Delayed gratification
By November, everything in Maine slows down except the people. The air turns sharp, the markets thin out and daylight shrinks to a few usable hours. But our pace doesn't match the season. We still expect everything instantly: answers, deliveries, notifications, results.
Fiction: Coastal Light
When John finally got to the end of the dirt road, his father was standing next to a patch of purple fireweed drinking a beer. John waited in the car until the dust had settled, then got out and walked over to his father, the two of them facing each other.
The Harpswell Anchor holds
If I had a nickel for every time someone told me "journalism is dying," I'd probably have more money in my bank account than I'll make as a journalist.
Harpswell’s Private Chef: Fall baking
October in Harpswell brings a noticeable shift in pace. Fishing boats return to shore earlier in the day. The coastal landscape transitions into muted golds, reds and browns. Kitchens become spaces for more thoughtful preparation as the weather cools. It's a great time to focus on recipes that are a bit more involved, recipes that highlight local ingredients and reward the time you spend on them — like maple pecan sticky buns.
