That business about everybody out here shooting at each other all the time has gotten so old and used up as a cliché that it’s hardly worth the ink to mention it.

There are regulations and established best practices with which we are expected to conform. It isn’t even usually a brawl.

I was privileged to participate in an Honor Flight Maine trip to DC in April.

Don’t hold anything anybody says in March against them, because it’s just March, and everybody’s like that.

I have discovered something that makes boring old March brighten up, and that is a mid-life love affair with maple trees. I should have started this years ago.

A radar map is an amazing thing. Just imagine how our ancestors would have reacted to such a tool. 

Nobody is making that much whipped cream. Whatever.

Matinicus Island is getting less boony all the time, for better or worse.

“What do you people do all day out there in the winter?”

On some of this island’s roads, before I got there in mind to count the kilowatts, there were no tracks at all.

We still have not perfected the Snowy Owl cocktail.

The water… always…wins.

The birds who loiter around the bakery are not Jonathan Livingston Seagull; they’re more like Baby-Face Nelson Seagull.

I heard this morning that the monarch butterfly has been placed on the endangered species list.

I am most assuredly not explaining all about everything on this island. I don’t even know most of what’s going on out here.

“I Need a New Butt” is finally here after having been back-ordered for extreme popularity.

We should consider adding yaks to our farms.

It’s getting to the point where mid-coast Maine might come to expect some thoroughly bewildered avian outta-stater to visit our shores each year.

Authenticity comes with a price.

The Snowy Owl cocktail is still a work in progress.