I arrived in Blue Hill as the sun was setting. I hurried to buy basics at the Trade Winds grocery store and a take-away bowl of haddock chowder from Marlintini’s. Thus supplied, I drove out the East Blue Hill Road, wishing I could stop at each of my favorite places but racing the clock. The slender driveway that leads through woods to this cottage shrinks to nothingness once darkness falls.
I smiled at familiar features–tall spruce and pines, fern-covered boulders, Stone House as it flashed by, and at last, my rental cottage with the bay behind it, shading quickly to inky black. And that sound–the constant lap, lap, rush that will accompany all of my activities in the coming weeks.
I’m here. Back in Blue Hill.
I awoke with the sun, grabbed a light jacket, and clambered down to the beach.
The air was sweet with the breath of blossoms, spicy with the tang of kelp and the scent of balsam, spruce, pine and arborvitae. From a tree-top drifted the throaty call of a plover.Give Me One Summer
Low tide laid bare masses of slippery kelp, midway between the high boulders and low pebbles. A school of mackerel splashed in unison a ways out, a sparkling mass on the calm water. A single bird sang out. I didn’t recognize it and vowed to bring my “Merlin” app next time to identify it.
These first days promise to be a tad on the chilly side, a tad on the drippy side. No matter. I’m itching to poke around new photos I gained at the Lorings’ homes on the drive to Maine.
This plate is part of a set of dishes that were used at Emilie Loring’s Stone House and later given to granddaughter Linda as a wedding present. I saw them when I stopped at Linda’s on my way to Blue Hill.
Their potter’s mark dates them between 1896 and 1906. They are so Emilie! Green and white–check; colorful flowers–check; classic, simple design–check. I don’t know if she bought them or if someone else brought them later, but they fit my mental image, and I enjoyed Linda’s blueberry muffins served on them with great pleasure.
One of my tasks on this trip is to finalize the photos that will appear in Happy Landings. I had passed over one shot from granddaughter Eve that I thought was a light-blasted photo of Stone House’s interior, but wait! Not so fast!
Are those shoes I see under the table on the right? I applied several sets of software to the image, and guess who shows up, typing away on her typewriter?
A closer look at the fireplace proves that this is not Stone House, but Emilie’s writing/guest cottage across the road, known as “The Ledges.” I wrote a post about it some time ago, because its rabbit shutters appear in Gay Courage. (See the post here) How much more can I find in the photos I scanned at Linda’s and Eve’s?
The tide is coming in, and I haven’t been down to the beach yet this morning. The weatherman promises rain, and the breeze is picking up, so I’ll scurry quickly and return with more from Blue Hill soon.