Two doors from Emilie Loring in Blue Hill lived the Clays. Edith Clay belonged to the Blue Hill Garden Club and the League of Women Voters. She and her second husband, George, were Emilie’s Blue Hill neighbors for over thirty years. Edith’s first husband was Francis Candage, with whom she had two children. While yet … More As Fair a Little Village as You’ll Find on the Coast of Maine
Emilie Loring won blue ribbons at the Blue Hill Fair for three years running. They grew on either side of her Stone House front door. … More Blue-Ribbon Nasturtiums at the Blue Hill Fair
I wake up when morning’s first rays strike the foot of my bed. I raise my head and can already see blue sky, trees, and water. I rush to don shorts and sneakers and head for the beach. This is not as direct as you might imagine. A woodsy path carpeted with wintergreen leads to … More Open to Discovery in Blue Hill, Maine
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 … More Arrived in Blue Hill!
A consequence of knowing the history of a place is that, when you see it in the present day, each place, each structure, has two meanings–what it is today and what it was like before. This week in Blue Hill, Maine, I’ve delighted in the present. The weather has been lovely. Even the few rainstorms … More Then and Now in Emilie Loring’s Blue Hill
Summary: Bettina Bradlee had second thoughts after her hasty war marriage to Neil Carrington. He returned from service to find her recovering from a severe bout of flu and decidedly cool toward him. Bettina has gone to a Maine cabin to think things out, but Neil is there, too, investigating a lumber theft. We left … More Sunday Story: “White Magic” in the Maine Woods, Part II
Ready for more summer reading? Let’s step back one hundred one years for this novella by Emilie Loring. The road seemed to force its way through a growth of mammoth pine, spruce, and cedar which crowded close, as though jealous of the space it occupied. Some branches were snow laden, from others dripped long, glistening … More Sunday Story: “White Magic” in the Maine Woods, Part I