Actually I didn't realized until just this moment how suggestive this picture is - but those of you who know how fuzzled I can be before I have coffee in the morning will forgive me for taking this shot and then thinking about it.
I was out for breakfast, met a friend (dancer/costumer BG) and had a nice chat about artistic politics in Portland.
Artemesia started off as a printer's that served tea, became a stationer's that served bagels and has now become a bistro that serves brunch. The creamers are distinctive and the coffee is quite strong.
It's a very enjoyable place that I don't get to all that much. A long walk to escort BG back so she could get to a dance rehearsal and I managed to visit my German friend - or specifically his family. A lot of kids and a cup of yogurt.
After that I should have sat down and written music but the day was just too seductively warm and bright out.
This took me on a long, interesting peregrination all over western Cumberland County.
The first stop was the Fore River Sanctuary of the Audobon Society. It's behind a corner of car dealerships and run along the site of a canal that was hand-dug by enterprising Mainers back at the turn of the 19th Century.
They basically connected the timber area around Naples and Bridgeton with the seaport of Portland. Now it's all overgrown but you can still see signs of it in the land around exit 48 and on the far side of Westbrook.
The most striking feature, on this side of the railroad, anyway, is the waterfalls and wetlands. Over the years this kind of urban jungle has been trailed and bridged; if you have the time or enough dry socks you can see some lovely sights, all surrounded by houses and car dealerships.
I took time to stop at the waterfalls.
It was a very bright, oddly warm day. I love Winter, I love the quality of being able to see the bones of the land around me. There is no leafy distractions, no flowers or birds to confuse me.
The world is very apparent, very present to me.
It's not that I don't like trees and leaves and flowers and birds - it's just that to me each season is just long enough.
Which makes the odd warmth of this Winter very disturbing to me. Many of my friends are telling me how much they love "Spring" and I'm suspicious enough of any good fortune to think that Spring needs to be earned a little bit. We need - or maybe "deserve" is a better word - to struggle a little bit.
Not too hard, but enough to appreciate it. I know that everyone has their own level of positive struggle, I know that I'm only speaking for myself. (Thank goodness).
Still, I'd like to have a little bit more snow and am slightly nervous for the world that said snow is not present.
I suppose this is why the front-yard scene in Westbrook, a snowless sleigh tableaux overlooking the Presumpscot River, caught my eye.
On the way to look at a burying ground - I love old New England burying grounds - it popped into view and shocked me. I had to stop and get a picture so I can look at it in August and think how rich my life has become.
My friend E., along with her Mom were trying to sell a condo held by E's dad, who passed away a year or so ago. It was the work of a moment to drop by, on the other side of the Presumpscot. Her newborn nephew was also in residence, his cries filling the space his grandfather used to call home. I get along well with kids and we had a nice time, chatting and catching up.
By this time the light was starting to turn noticeably warmer so I headed on further West to North Windham, and Babb's Bridge, a still used, still sound specimen of the classic New England covered bridge.
I'm not exactly sure when the Bridge was built. There is a school of thought - or more "activity" - come to think of it, E is a good example of it - a school of thought that moves to follow thoughts with actions that bring out more knowledge, that connects in an active, manipulative way with the world around it.
I know now that I can act that way too, that sometimes my curiosity take me over and drives me to all sorts of strange pastimes.
But most of the time I am content to just sit and look, to be there and experience it. I suppose this is where a lot of my artistic POV comes from and if people find me pleasant at all I'm sure that's the reason.
For whatever reason I love to see things, to stand there and let my eyes take them in. It seems a waste, I know to just feel all this stuff and let it fade to dust when I die. Maybe, with no immediate heirs and not a great likelihood of siring any, that is why I try to use what I feel to create music.
The day ended at Gilsland Farm in Falmouth, the other sanctuary run by the Audabon Society. Sadly the pic does not seem to want to load so I'll link to my Facebook gallery - you can see the pics here.
All told it was a rich and eventful day - small bites of great richness, events of no great moment but very great meaning. I'm glad I had it.
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