The Camden Conference kicks off this year Feb 18-20, with the topic, “The Challenges of Asia.”  Too bad the planners had no crystal ball, otherwise the subject at hand might have been “Authoritarian Arab Regimes.”  Yet, perhaps the subjects are more closely related than our first impression – after all, China has limited social media networking and internet access since the ruckus in Egypt erupted.  In any event, Camden’s list of speakers promises an exciting educational vista, both for those who wish to attend in person at the Camden Opera House and for those who prefer hi-tech distance learning, via simulcast to various satellite venues, including our own Hutchinson Center in Belfast.

Santiago and I spent Christmas in Egypt, nonchalantly sailing north, down the Nile.  (This may sound confusing but it’s nothing compared to lower and upper Egypt.  Lower Egypt is the Delta area abutting the Mediterranean Sea whereas Upper Egypt is the southern end.)   A few days later, we visited the Great Pyramids at Giza and even climbed down a narrow passageway into the burial chamber — every step down was accompanied by a mental reminder that nothing has caved in over the past five thousand years.  On 29 December we bid farewell to the land of Nerfertiti (my favorite Queen – she happened to make absent a woman who bore a son for her husband  - the boy became King Tut but that is another story).  We left Egypt in the nick of time, which was all the time we needed.

Egypt in Quieter Times

Later,
Diana
The White House Inn

Like everyone else, I am racing around in preparation for Christmas.  Just this afternoon, I strolled into the Belfast Post Office to buy a bunch of Christmas angel stamps – the one with the angel playing the lyre (or some stringed instrument of yesteryear).  In my first case of bah humbug, the post office had not even one!  So, rather than buy some of those hideous Liberty Bells all awash in brown, I purchased a packet of Bart Simpson.  How is that for Christmas?

Yet my spirits were restored as I dined with the Belfast Garden Club at the annual Christmas luncheon held at the town favorite, Darby’s Restaurant.  We spoke of gingerbread cookies, the Nutcracker ballet and our web master who is having her first baby on Christmas Day.  Believe me, I was happy to forego our normal monthly meeting with talk of grass grubs, rose aphids and other enriching topics.

Later I drove past the wonderful Fishers’ Christmas Tree Farm on Route 3, three miles west of Belfast, where you can cut your own.  Alas, this year no tree for us and no big family reunion – the innkeepers are on our way to Egypt.  On Christmas Day,  we shall be barging down the Nile in the land of Nefertiti.  My friends are taking bets as to whether I shall hitch a ride on a camel.  Very tempting, but then, I think not.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to One and All

White House Inn Christmas Wreath from Heirloom Gardens

Diana
The White House Inn

Many an afternoon when I get that hankering for a “cap” (that would be cappuccino), I take a short drive over to Bell the Cat, a cute little coffee bar that resides in the same grand room as a book store and gift store — well, I could spend hours there.  (1 Belmont Ave, Belfast, ME, 207-338-2084; they also do great catering). Today I discovered the lineage of the name “Bell the Cat”.  Aesop wrote a fable called “Mice in a Meeting”.  Rather than give a summation, here is the real thing:

In the kitchen the mice all met in a meeting
With many a squeak and many a greeting
To try to decide on something that
Would save them all from the terrible cat.
For she was the killer of many a mouse
Both in the field and in the house.
Then on his hind legs a sleek fellow stood
And said he had a plan that was good.
So after a speech that ruffled his fuzz,
He told them at last just what his plan was.
“There’s nothing to it,” he said, “by heck,
We’ll just tie a bell around the cat’s neck,
And then we will know where she is in a twinkle
Whenever we hear the little bell tinkle.” …..

The mice continue with an amusing discussion about who exactly will bell the cat, and that turns out to be a problem.  You can guess the Aesopian moral here!  Anyway some years later Mr. Webster came up with a definition of bell the cat – to do a daring or risky deed.

later,
Diana

The White House Inn

The son and daughter-in-law came for a visit last month which meant I put on my cruise director hat. Why is it that you never explore your own back-yard until guests come for a visit? Well, Bangor is not exactly the back-yard (50 miles away) but I had heard of an odd thing called a “City Forest” with a boardwalk through a bog.  So the four of us piled in the car and off we went on a brilliant autumn day.

The Bangor City Forest is over 600 acres of trees, woodlands and bog.  Apparently this bog was created over 10,000 years ago when the glacier that covered Maine melted and receded into the Atlantic Ocean – and right through this bog is a mile-long boardwalk which means you can get up close to the bog without getting your Guccis wet (remember I’m a city girl).  For the more adventuresome explorer, the city forest offers nine miles of trails most of which are dubbed easy hiking.  (For those seeking thrills like the Eiger, better to go to Acadia and Cadillac Mountain.  Okay, I am stretching this analogy).

The bog is full of ferns, skunk cabbage, moss and hundreds of plant species; the acidic content of the bog stunts the growth of trees, most of which are no taller than 6 to 8 feet – which gives one an idea of how a giant would feel walking through a human forest.  After our nature tour, we piled back in the car and headed for Sam’s and, of course, Starbucks which were only two miles away!

Intrepid Explorers: Sandy 3, Diana, Sandy 4 and Trina

Diana
The White House Inn

I would wager that few people know their state’s etching on the flip side of the quarter.  About ten years ago, the United States Bureau of the Mint decided George needed a rest from the ubiquitous eagle.  So every state was asked to provide an alternative representing its own special grandeur, natural treasure or other uniqueness.  For sure, I had no clue about Maine’s submission, until today.  Drum roll…. it is Pemaquid Point that adorns General Washington on his back side.  Two girl friends, a gentleman friend and I ventured forth to this  point at the end of one of the many peninsulas jutting into the ocean – for reference it is 60 miles south of Belfast and near Booth Bay Harbor and Wiscasset.  (Maybe a map would be handy!)

Pemaquid Point is spectacularly beautiful with rugged, rocky shores, steep ledges, and pounding waves; it ideally represents the splendor of Maine’s shoreline.   I can see why Maine wished to be represented on the quarter by this place.  The point is equipped with one of the 60 plus light houses that dot the coastline; visitors can climb to the top for an even more splendid view.  A museum completes Lighthouse Park at Pemaquid Point.  I asked the attendant if we could get one of the quarters –  sure, for $5.00 wrapped prettily in a blue cellophane.  Well, our group decided to forgo that treat and just hope we come across one in general circulation.  BTW, the Mint issued these quarters in numbers proportionate to the state’s population, so getting one of the Maine quarters any time soon is not a foregone conclusion.

View from the lighthouse

Three babes: JoJo, Mary and Diana at Pemaquid

After our rugged day on the coast, the four of us repaired to Shaw’s Wharf in nearby New Harbor for a Maine meal of lobster, clams and sweet potato french fries.  And of course a cold one.

Later,
Diana

The White House Inn

Still three babes - at the bar!

Move over Aristotle, Augustine, Hobbes et al and make way for Ferdinand the Bull, the populist philosopher.  Stop and smell the flowers – brilliant and unassailable.

The other day I spotted a beautiful moth affixed to the a column on the front of our Inn.  Turns out it was a Luna Moth, one of the the biggest in North America, with a wing spread of four and a half inches.  Apparently, Lunesta, the sleeping potion, is named after this moth- with a life span of seven days, the connection of drug to moth is somewhat baffling.

Luna Moth with 7 days of glory

My neighbor has a mass of raspberry bushes in his yard; and for the last month I have been picking like a whirling dervish.  Fresh raspberries with a dollop of yogurt – yum.   Alas, this evening witnessed the last of the raspberries, until the berries rise like a phoenix in the fall.

The Last Raspberry

Maine and the Mid-coast are a cornucopia of beautiful creatures, delectable fruits, and stunning scenery. Ferdinand has it right — stop and smell the flowers.

Stop and Smell the Flowers

Diana and KC

Last week my sister Kathleen, aka KC, came for a visit.  I thought I would show her the usual – hiking trails, sailing, stunning outdoor scenery.  Wrong!  KC showed me that Maine is a shopping paradise for the antique aficionado.    Our drive from Belfast to Camden (normally 20 minutes) took four hours as we stopped in all the shops along Route 1  – Kendricks, The Painted Lady, The Blue Dolphin, and Sadie’s.  KC has never met a shop she didn’t like, exiting each store with some treasure she could not live without.

One particularly brilliant day, I insisted we at least drive to Acadia and take the wimp route to Mt Cadillac – that would be by car.  We also stopped for lunch at Jordan’s Pond cafe with its the famous popovers.  Alas, on the way home KC spied an antique shop but mercifully closing time kept us out!

No shopping here!

KC could write the wikipedia of antique stores but I did remember a few “facts”.  Don’t go into shops that offer both antiques and books, for one.  And antique shops, consignment stores and thrift stores are each unique.  I thought they all had “stuff” to sell and many even have the word “stuff” in the name – e.g. Old Stuff here in Belfast (119 High Street), which BTW sells old stuff and new, decorative lamp shades (which are very hard to find).  George Carlin’s “Stuff” skit is priceless.

KC left two days ago with her car loaded to the gills.  As for me, I went shopping on neimanmarcus.com

Later, Diana

The White House Inn

For those enthralled by my last post recounting older son’s visit, hold tight for this tale of my younger son’s trip home after completing yet another year of college.  (Taylor is affectionately known as a five-year-plan undergrad, meandering from Bard, to India, back to Bard, over to NYU, another return to Bard.)  On May 23 he drove into Belfast with his car crammed with dirty clothes and other detritus of dorm life; after two days of shifting through all that stuff and a small effort at organization, he announced, “Let the games begin!”.

On the road again....

Taylor could be a poster boy of what to do in and around Belfast.  Kayaking in the Passy River (actually the Passagassawakeag River, but who can say that?), and biking south through Northport and Bayview with a couple of new friends met while kayaking; Bay Wrap on Main Street sells a terrific booklet on biking trails in the area fashioned by Hartdale Maps.  One night we caught a just-released movie at our very own Colonial Theatre; we saw Robin Hood – please check Rotten Tomatoes as I am trying not to be a movie critic, but I won’t see that one again.  No movie night is complete without a huge shake or sundae or, to be totally the modern cosmopolitan, blood orange gelato at Scoops ice cream shop (35 Main Street).

Just the claw!

And no trip to Maine is complete without a lobster – so on the last day, brilliant with sunshine, over we went to Young’s Lobster Pound and my baby boy ate a three pound lobster!  Now, I am a city girl and I have always heard that large lobsters have tough meat – not so, at least from what I could tell from the two measly bites Taylor would let me have.  (Back to the city girl thing – we don’t eat lunch).

Mom and son

Taylor left the other day, back to Bard for a summer job.  He said with a big hug that coming home was like going on vacation.  Guess so.

later, Diana

The White House Inn

Mother’s Day came a week late for me this year.  My older son, Walker, flew up from Washington DC on May 14 to spend the weekend.  Walker is married, working and attending grad school —  he is also 32 years of age which gives me the heebie jeebies.  When he reached the 30 year milestone, I said, “You are now my younger brother.”

Where's Walker? Lost in the rocks at Acadia.

The next day, bright and early around 10 am, we headed to Acadia National Park.  We hiked the Great Head Trail, taking in glorious views of the Atlantic Ocean, and ascended Cadillac Mountain via the wimpy route (by car).  No matter what the age of one’s children, the “Why?” question never dies.  Why is the name Acadia, number one son asked.  I responded that I knew but I needed to tell him later. The answer: an Italian explorer on a 1524 voyage to the New World named present-day Nova Scotia and much of New England Archadia which is Latin, of course, and means something to do with beautiful trees.  Later in the 16th century, the “r” began to disappear, likely due to map copyist errors; and the change stuck.  The area became a US National Park in 1916; the name Acadia National Park was bestowed in 1929.  Now, that is another story.

Anticipating that lobster!

The much too-short visit ended at Young’s Lobster Pound overlooking Belfast Bay.  As Walker who insists on no egg yokes and little red meat tore that crustacean apart, I asked him if he knew lobster compared to other seafood contains prodigious amounts of cholesterol.  Moms still know a thing or two!

later, Diana

The White House Inn

It was a dark and rainy night….. well, dark and windy and the location was Camden, Maine.  I joined a group of intrepid ghost seekers lead by The Lady in the Red Cloak who makes her way to various Maine towns giving tours – the theme of the tours is haunted places, with a good dose of obscure history thrown in.    As we made our way through Camden’s back streets, I learned that of the 50 states, Maine holds the distinction of being the 13th when it comes to UFO sightings.

As we stood before the Camden Carriage House, The Lady explained that a tradition of sorts was to throw old shoes between the walls of houses in an effort to “kick the devil out”! .  At this particular house, several pairs of children’s shoes were found.  Next door, a ghost resides – this was the one who saw the UFO and recorded it in her journal – when she was alive of course.

The Lady in the Red Cloak said she does not generally talk about malevolent ghosts; so if you are looking for a “spirited” evening with no scary after effects, try one of these tours.

boo for now, Diana

The White House Inn