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Music Where The Lead Instrument Usually Holds Down The Background.

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Music where the instrument played is out front and center stage when usually more of a support, backup application.

It is neat to see a musician, an individual take it to a level there is nothing to compare to in music, in life. That passion is infectious and you can get addicted to the musical works in a very healthy way.

Maine Sunset Lake Photo

Finding A Way To Make A Living, Stay In Maine Full Time. It’s Worth It.

Maybe not being the norm, what is expected adds to the music artistry being edgy, raw yet refined.

But so new or innovative and not mainstream that it stands out like one copy. Not mass produced or “everybody’s doing it”. No sea of sameness.

Blazing your own trail and not looking down to see if anyone else has been on it prior to you. Not needing to glance down for the reference points to follow a pathway in life is pure confidence. Living by your own rules, standards, heck even whims. Isn’t that the essence of enjoying life? Sampling it, contributing to it for others to enjoy and not just being a spectator?

Mark King of Level 42 is one of those musician lost in what he does. That can make a bass the lead guitar.

Listen, watch him pluck, slap the bass center stage.

The hand made bass neck lit up with LEDs, chewing gum and taped up thumb, Mark King entertains. Check him out.

Or hear, see maybe you already have discovered, enjoy Victor Wooten, another incredible bass player.

Not singing like Mark King in the earlier video. But jamming with the Dave Mathews Band that is loaded with visionaries squeezing more, nothing quite like it out there in solos on stage. Lost in the music. Hypnotizing the audience.

Or changing it up and setting the bass guitar in the slanted floor cradle.

Reaching for the bow and focusing on two cellos, a pair of brothers making them perform in ways you have never seen, heard before.

Music, the kind that is made out in nature. Where the musicians are unknowns. Crickets, robins, lake loons, bull frogs and water lapping on shore rocks. A fire crackles, sputters, creating flickering shadows. As the glow combined with the heat spills light you can feel down to your bones around a log cabin in the Northern Maine woods.

Maine Is Outdoor Simple Living.

Maine, Somehow Water Is Always In The Background. Part Of The Outdoor Fun.

It is the song you sing inside, that stays with you. Like a hearty home cooked filled with lots of love meal that sticks to your ribs.

The company, the setting, the day in Maine you just experienced or that brand new one laying ahead.

The hand crafted, garden grown slow food meal all add to the take away deep inside. When you make, take the time to live, enjoy your life. Include others in it.

What songs linger with you, long after the practice, the solo under water while getting started for the day ahead in the shower performance?

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Pick Up A Rock, Lob It Into The Conversation.

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Ever find yourself in a group that the main topic is other people that rub them the wrong way?

One by one, systematically this person, that individual is hoisted up for all to review, critique. When you are silent or squirming, not so comfortable you might even be asked for your contribution to the conversation.

Maine Is Outdoors, Using Only Natural Ingredients.

Maine Living, All Natural. Rock Solid Simple. Not Used To Judge, Stone.

What do you think about so and so? Pick up a rock, lob it in. Zing them. Three things happen when at a holiday gathering, after church lunch, in a social setting and the topic of what do you think about so and so comes up for a question.

I don’t hate anyone. I am not a good person to ask for judgement of another. I feel I have lots to work on and pretty happy, content, humble.

The second feeling that hits deep down in the bones is what would this posse bsaying about me if not here?

Not wild about being the topic of conversation on a slow news day. Or to help roast another that I don’t really know or if I did, who am I to apply the lashes? Move them into the cross hairs. To critique, find fault, ridicule.

Maine Kitchen Cookstove

Antique Wood Kitchen Cook Stoves. Not For Sale, We Use Them For Heating, Eating, Baking. Sitting Around To Talk With Coffee, Tea.

Maybe it is being busy. Lots to do with family, in the community, work. Heck blogging. Plenty to do so not wasting daylight character bashing another. Sometimes the person rotated into the same diss I heard last link up is close to home. Married to a cousin…. (hands up, fingers making cross) Time out. Whoa.

In small Maine towns, not many of us here so we need all the helping hands possible. Tread lightly and cut others slack, hoping for the same in return. Many hands. The entire team and this is what we have so make it work, be highly creative in a small Maine town applies. To keep it alive, vibrant.

The third reason just not in the habit of dissing others is taught to look for the good.

To admire effort, trying to do good works even if coming up a little short of the target. The heart was in the right place, it is the thought that counts. Parents reward and recognized sincere effort. Encouragement went a long way to keep you moving, productive and from standing still, feeling sorry for yourself.

Happiness In Small Maine Towns, Working Public Suppers.

Community Service Volunteering, One Of Maine’s Algorithm For Simply Living Joy.

Insecurity within oneself could be the reason the habit happens. Finding fault in others to make you feel like you measure up higher on a scale someone out there secretly records.

Inside you know you did a good job, not having the fancy, the favor of all those around you. There is a higher power you answer to, pray with and that loves you. C. S. Lewis weighs in on why people judge.

A lady I know told me it is hard to go on a car ride with two others that are on board for out of town meetings.

One starts in one by one attacking a person and moves on down the line to another she does not particularly like. And goes into the reasons why they are so irritating, she can not stand them.

The other passenger in the car is good natured but gets pulled into the black widow venom. And the ride is one unpleasant experience for someone who does not know the folks being attacked. Or sometimes she does and has a neutral reaction. Or sports a positive, different one to offer.

She says if she defends, the conversation stalls. The chatter lulls. And the ride is suddenly longer and very quiet. Except for the tunes she cranks up or the sound of the roadway from the tire hum taking over. And all the thoughts in the car go silent, get mulled over in private, not collectively shared.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Finding The Source Of Unhappiness, Turning The Corner In Maine.

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You read, hear, see lots of signs of depression, unhappiness.

And wonder where did all the angry people come from? Why folks are angry, are frustrated is fueled from lots of sources deep inside. My Mom used to call it “stinking thinking”. Not being grateful, counting your blessings.

Maine Small Town Living, Simpler Approach.

Simpler Small Town Living In Maine.

The approach that you are better off than you deserve, others have it a lot worse than you.

Sure chemical imbalance, something missing in the inside chemistry can trigger the highs and lows. But your outlook, what you were taught has a hand in the “how’s it going?”.

Anger turned inward causes depression. Having the wrong, skewed set of expectations that are not realistic or forgetting the struggle, hard work to pull off change spells disaster too.

In my Maine real estate job, I find a person, couple upside down with a mortgage loan that is unhappy. Worried about losing the place. And beyond the housing stress to get payments caught up or the place sold, you quickly find other areas of the owner’s life is out of whack.

Not happy about their job, all the mountain of debt, the relationship too is a struggle and hanging on by a thread.

It’s all making everyone bone tired. Discouraged, depressed, not such a happy camper. Sometimes the anger that fuels, is the mortar of the short temper, unhappiness comes from knowing the individual or couple had a role. Made mistakes, but not always cranked up about taking ownership of their contribution. In the fine kettle of fish they find themselves swimming around in.

Maine Is Rural, Lots Of Farms.

Maine Is Having Land, Using It For Farming, Hobbies. Or Just Enjoying Wide Open Space.

Grass is always green kicks in and just looking for relief. But self medication, retail therapy, affairs don’t fix the problem.

Adjustment in life to correct the off the road should be done carefully, in small measures. Kinda of like apply power to a skid on a slick Maine winter road of ice. The ribbon thread of up, down, twisting sideways dips and no thank you ma’ms.

When you live in Maine, the approach to living is less expensive, lower key and time always spent outdoors.

Being on a Maine lake or something waterfront is the setting to figure out, hear yourself think. To consider where you are now, where you have been, where you want to end up. Hard work, determination, patience but right thinking… not the stinking kind needed in large supply.

Having lots of space around you and acres not inches is the setting that helps the general mood. On everything that happens in life that spills from that location. Too tight, too small, up close and way way too personal does not make you easy going. Able to let things roll off without a fuss, a frown, a string series of four letter words anger.

Maine Small Farm Land Photo

Growing Up In Maine, The Fun Home Made, Outdoors.

Lack of fear, missing crime is what Maine provides a healthy dose of for day to day simple living.

Being productive, worthwhile and having a purpose. Skills developed because it is up to you, no one else empowers a person too. Shows the grit, what the person is made of to persevere, dig in, hang on and move beyond the rock and a hard place.

Coming to Maine debt free works best. Knowing what you got paid there and just skinned by with is not the same pay in the envelope here. Scaling back on the spending if still needing to work here in Maine. But you gain so so much more than you give up. Maine, outdoors, fresh air, clean water, wildlife. Ready for some for quality of simple Maine living?

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

The Best Time To Come To Maine?

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The best time to wander into Maine if you are one of the unlucky ones forced to be on rations of vitamin “V”.

Vacationland when the dose is only a week a year, a long holiday weekend stint fix is just a tease. Does not begin to knock down the addiction and only serves to feed it really.

So the best time to come to Maine? When you need the change of scenery most. Space is the big attraction. Which causes all the other life blocks to fall into place. For a feeling of peace. Surrounded by all her natural splendor awe. But the real beauty of Maine beams, originates from the friendly small town centered hardworking people.

Slow Color Change In Maine Fall Weather

Cooler Nights, Warm Days Start Up The Maine Fall Color Machine.

So instead of ordering off the menu, trying to figure out how you think you should spend your limited time here on the Vacationland planet, just reach out, ask them.

Close the four color glossy tourist flyers. Stash, slide, put ‘em away. And don’t just do what you did last year, the one before that. No no. Shake it up. Throw yourself a curve.

Ask the locals what’s good here?

What’s the special of the day or what would, do they do if they have time off? Were all caught up with their daily chores and obligations. They head out to where? Tell me about those special haunts, places off the beaten tourist industry pathway. But vow, pledge, raise your right hand. To keep it a secret.

Not let the cat out of the bag to maintain a level of trust too. So on the return, more adventures await you because you are inside the circle of trust. Don’t get hung up on how you dress, the color scheme or if everything matches or not either. The locals don’t…

Maine Lake Sunset Photo

Fresh Air, Clean Water, Wildlife Not People. That’s Part Of Maine’s Secret Beauty.

Just put on the correct application for the journey you embark on. Clothes that fit the particular day, season activity.

To many the ends of the tourist seasons are the sweet spot.

To find their happy place. The locals are a little more relaxed, the turn the corner is close. To roll in the new backdrop, slide the current one the other way to dove tail underneath. Preserved for the next rotation three seasons away.

Sitting On A Maine Porch. Maine Is That.

All Year Long, Maine Is Outdoor Living.

What to do for fun, recharging a weary overworked mind and body.

To collect some magic moments in Maine for those “ah ha” light bulb illuminating times in your life. Maine’s magic is often getting lost, freed up and letting go. When hypnotized, put under her spell.

Tractor beamed into the drop dead gorgeous 360 degrees that wraps around you. As she tugs at all of your heart strings at once. And you stop fighting it, admitting to yourself you are in lub dub love.

Why don’t you take a hike. Ahhh, just go jump in a lake, get lost in Maine. Or do one of the slew of other outdoor, low or no cost activities you decide are just what the Doctor ordered.

Get away, beeline to Maine. She is your best friend, a healthy addiction, make her your habit for life.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

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Fresh, Real Time, In The Moment Living In Maine.

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You know the feeling of being on the road, thinking snackage.

Crossing Maine, even at 75 miles per hour on the Interstate 95 system takes time to cover ground. Hungry, stopped at a gas station to fuel up the whatever you drive has to happen. The wheel you twist, turn. Iron you push up and down the highway. No restaurant options in many parts of our rural state.

Mt Katahdin Baxter Park

White Capped, Snowy Much Of The Year, Mt Katahdin At Baxter Park

And thinking just stay on task. Get back on the road but still gee, I’m hungry.

Partly out of boredom. Not really starving.

Or half crazed thinking about eating a horse. But also because the clock says it’s here. The three sided triangle hanging on the porch of the Maine farm house kitchen is mentally ringing louder and louder.

Answer the call. The magic slot of the three or more opportunities in a day to strap, slide on the feedbag has arrived as if you were home. Not moving, becoming velocitized.

Something solid to go with all that coffee, energy, juice, soft drinks or just good old bottled something wet water you swill down.

You scan the C store glass wall to wall with door handles. Just barely off the Interstate exchange in pretty much the middle of nowhere. Podunk, Maine USA. MMMmmmmmm, saran wrapped or rigid plastic see through container pre-made sandwiches. Not like Mom, Grammy made. The morgue like lighting eerily cast on the dining selection makes your stomach queasy, uneasy. How many days ago were they assembled?

Maine Farm Machinery

Yesteryear, One Row Horse Drawn Maine Farm Machinery.

Don’t do it says one of the voices in your head. The one fatigued from traveling and just wanting to get home. But a snack, to eat on the run. Revolutions of the noggin on your neck shows no apples, bananas, or anything fresh. Dried out pizza slices on a carousel, hots dogs rolling for days on warming station stainless steel cylinders under the sneeze guard. Life is like that too in other ways.

What you snack, graze on and put into your system.

Not just open wide and down the gullet. But what is fed into your senses. Is it a current, fresh, real, raw and in the moment experience? Just plucked off the vine and succulent? Or pretty much like high quality vending machine food? Looks like food, tastes like cardboard, straw, nothing. Without a lot of dipping sauce.

Ordered up because not so handstand happy about it. But all there is for dining options, fast food, on the run. Maybe living in gentile poverty clears the table to prepare for the feast of life in other ways.

Maine Potato House Workers

One Potato, Two Potato… Three Maine Potatoes Heading To Market, Winter Storage.

Maine is all about slow food. Take your time.

Quality experiences with home grown, all natural and take your time preparing it. Savoring it, enjoying it fully. Eating with an easy does it mindset. Slow down. The simpler living approach to life means being, staying in the moment. Being grateful for what you have and not lamenting what you don’t. Making the most with what is around you and not living life with an “if” attached. That involves something missing, but not needed anyway.

Maine is not “I’ll be happy if, when” this or that takes place.

That is in the future. Robs today and may not pan out like you wished for or hoped. Delayed, put off is not smelling today’s roses. Or just plain in season Maine wild flowers. The lupines, brown eyed susans, forget me nots. All arranged outdoors sans vase, four walls by Mother Nature. For a limited time that cycles in four seasons. But requires focusing on today. Or miss the Maine slide show.

Lop off that “if”. Just shorten it to “I’ll be happy.”. “I am happy”. Or without words, thoughts, just smile and radiate an inner joy. That telegraphs to man and animals around you this cat is content, at peace, in Maine. Get here quickly. Don’t you hear her calling your name? Don’t stand her up, keep her waiting.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker


The Pink Ribbon, Best Maine Christmas Ever.

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The boy was from a Maine family of three kids, his mother passed away from cancer at thirty one years of age.

His Dad was a cook in the army. But you would not know it from the menu selection served up, brought back stateside. The TV dinners, frozen pot pies and never ending supply of morning cereals of shredded wheat, corn flakes, puffed rice kept them fed.

Early Maine Snow Sledding.

No Thumb Warmers, Heated Radiators Under Your Feet. Tinker For Two, Ride For One Hour. Helped Teach You Survival Mechanics.

The oldest and only son decided he would be a self taught cook.

Reached, tied on the apron at meal time. And appreciated his Dad of thirty two taking on the solo responsibility of raising he and his two sisters. A year later the father married a much younger gal, a waitress he connected with at coffee.

In her early twenties, the marriage did not last long.

The son figures because his Dad was still married to a ghost, his deceased Mom. That he never truly got over to move on and begin again to be in love. Make a life to share with another, beyond just his young family.

Working for the public works department in 1964, the pay was not going to make you land on the Forbes top one hundred wealthiest. He was rich, grateful in other ways. And over the childhood moving five times. From rent to rent. Getting the kids raised the best the Dad could in a small Northern Maine community. Where the village all pitches in too. This son’s little league team was O’donnell’s Express and his uniform was more man than child sized.

The son with the cook’s apron on figuring better cuisine started and ended with his stepping up to the plate.

Lamenting his pot roast did not begin to compare with his Mom’s meal time entry. But there was no contest with his baked beans. Which over the years became his signature meal time offering when the dinner bell sounded. Cooked to perfection. To die for meal offering that his stomach roll over the cinched up belt proves hit it’s mark with deadly accuracy.

Maine Small Farm Land Photo

Growing Up In Maine, The Fun Home Made, Outdoors.

Soaking the pretty white and splashed with maroon colors Jacob’s Cattle variety. For the bean pot last night as the beat goes on. Memories linger. The years pile up and the seasons change with a sense of urgency. But you gotta eat right?

One Christmas, the corner decorated tree was very sparse in the present department.

The three kids went to sample the sugar plums, get prepared for the roof landing of the red velvet, white fur clad sleigh and flying deer pilot. Not expecting much due to the missing cargo usually already arranged under the colored lights, tinseled trees of past by this late date on the holiday calendar.

The next morning the mood was vastly different. Happy, smiling kids bounding down the old farm house 2nd floor stairway on the Hogan Road spying a tree. Loaded with pretty papered wrapped gifts. Flowing like lava out from under the tree, flooding into the room. Leaving little floor space for the opening family ritual to begin. Starting with the oldest first or was it the other way around? Who’s turn in rotation again?

A pink ribbon guided the way, created a path. From the living room, through the dining room, across the Maine farm house kitchen.

Out into the attached, unfinished back woodshed. The place where periodic discipline was administered. Or just threatened, hinted at would do the trick. Because of success reining in an out of control child with an attitude, nose out of joint early on. Not waiting. For perspective, to bring them back into line to keep the family home happy, calm, quiet.

Maine Outdoors Simple Living.

Look For The Sunshine. Unplug, Recharge In Maine.

Parked in the center of the shed was a brand new 1964 Ski Doo or called then Bombardier snow sled. Ten horse power under the bright yellow cowling, perched above the narrow ski stance.

Ready for the recoil to receive a yank. Strong tug from a youngster barely able to pull hard enough to start the snow sled. The machine high school skinny, not barnyard wide for a reason. Because groomed, marked Maine snow sled trails and bridges over, spanning water hazards were not yet invented. Not in vogue.

It was necessary to being a skinny profile in snowmobile width. To squeeze, needle through forest trees. To get anywhere beyond the just the pretty predictable, round and round back yard.

Learning to lean into corners, sledding on one knee standing up. To move and groove, shift weight and guide, throw the light weight sled through new fresh white powder. To keep from becoming bogged down, bogie wheels buried and causing a winter field exhaustive work out. Digging out of a deeper hole the harder you tried to throttle your way away from the stall in the outdoor fun. Settling into quick sand. The new fluffy powder snow as you lose steam heading up a hill incline.

The sled described this morning at coffee at a corner store pit stop, fuel up I can see clearly.

Even though a Snow Jet blue snowmobile experienced driver, my Aunt Ruth had a boyfriend, Freeman Taylor had one that was souped up, modified to churn out twenty two horsepower. Which was pretty unstable at the higher speeds than any stock machine produced. For the narrow stock ski stance unlike snow sleds of today. Where they are sit, point, steer, hang on. Go very fast on the ice rockets on well groomed, marked ITS trails.

No doubt this Christmas snow machine from Willy Lynds was not many if any serial number digits away.

From the one on Freeman Taylor’s yellow winter big boy toy. The fellow with the loud memorable, infectious laugh. The habit of a steady, slow drip of Schaeffer warm beer flowing into his system. Who did his best to keep all the neighborhood kid’s snow machines of all sizes, colors, kinds and ailments moving up and down the local trails.

The best Christmas ever, the Dad went all out. And scratching his head, looking back on what his father, the sole breadwinner did not bring home weekly for wages, the son wonders how he did it. Made the Christmas to remember for he and his two younger sisters as a single parent, a Mister Mom.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

You Have A Long Weekend In Maine, What To Do For Fun?

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Maine is Vacationland, the folks at the department of motor vehicles, licensing remind each and everyone one of us with that one word declaration.

Along the bottom of the Maine license plates. So when you are lucky enough to be here in Maine for a weekend, one of the longer, extended ones, what to do?

Maine Baxter Park Photo

Maine, One Blue And Green Dream. Wake Up, Get To Vacationland.

Well for starters, you don’t need a lot of money if you think off road. In the woods, on a Maine lake, river and it’s camping.

Tenting under the stars. Wearing a back pack during the day. Nightly cooking on an open fire. Simple outdoors fun in Maine is low cost. If you stay clear, veer far away from the expensive tourist traps along the coastline.

You are not here for a long time, but a good time. Don’t want to spend it in line. Elbow gnashing or shoulder to shoulder with others all just hankering a little Maine too right? Maine is not in your face, a lot about being by yourself. Getting away to spend some time with me, myself and I. Figure things out, mentally sort and organize your thoughts. The direction your life is headed that is good. The areas where dialing in, a tad of adjustment is needed.

Hiking is what Maine was made to do. Exploring, walking, talking, gawking. And the food outdoors, the work up an appetite, hunger makes the dining taste improve a hundred fold.

Biking in Maine, sometimes it involves ferry rides to an island.

Rock Solid Maine Is Special.

Simple, Stunning, Real, All Natural. Maine.

The best part of being in Maine is the outdoor space, natural setting.

But start venturing closer to the tight knit communities. To meet, greet, sit with the locals at a church bean supper.

To chew the fat at a state fair, talking about an interest the other side of the conversation is already put in motion.

Comparing notes, what he would have done different. What by accident turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Vacations in Maine are highly educations, two way communicating easy to strike up.

Mainers share, care and are a talkative bunch.

Unless you start the dialogue drop in statement, remind of “back in Jersey”. That cools the mood, causes a little more space to happen. In the inching away, still smiling but just not as warm and fuzzy.

Maine Cows Dot The Pasture Country Side.

Moo Yourself. Don’t Happen To Have An Apple, Carrot, A Little Grain?

Bring your walking shoes, hiking boots, camping gear. Travel light, explore far and wide. But you won’t need a lot of money once you find yourself inside the boundary dotted lines of Maine.

Happy Labor Day faithful readers, followers of the Me in Maine blog posts. Gulf Hagas is on the radar for this hunt and peck, beginner wordsmith.

One only one of the many neat, memorable, healthy options when time is short. For the what to do for fun when on vacation in Maine.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Maine Clothing, No Not Color Blind Or An Anarchist.

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What you wear, clothe your body in Maine is a lot like the Frank Lloyd Wright reminder that “form follows function”.

Which actually Louis Sullivan was the brain child of that particular notion. That Frank took from his mentor. And ran with it. Getting all the press.

Maine, What Do The Natives Wear?

What To Wear When Driving A 90 Tine Blueberry Rake In Maine.

The Maine wardrobe.

If you are working in a Northern Maine potato field, the spud house to process the golden nuggets. For the from the harvest farm land, out the door to fresh markets.

Or to store them away for continual winter withdrawals. For dark bin by bin siphoning, then clothing is anything goes.

That is as long as Maine clothing is not stringy, straps, loose. That can get caught in machinery. Sucking the guy or gal wearing the threads into the conveyor belt.

The Oz like wizardry of many noisy, whirling, twirling high RPM spinning cogs. That someone in a hurry sometimes forgets to replace the OSHA approved safety guards. To create an accident waiting to happen situation.

If outside, working on a Maine winter snow storm (AKA “dusting”) removal in a Maine winter. If that is the mission, something warm, layered but that breaths, wicks works best.

So the material trumps the color. Because it does the job. And cold or clammy sweating, getting chills is avoided. Not what Mainer’s put up with, struggleto add to their toil. When chasing the dollar working outside in the Maine weather elements.

Maine Blueberry Rakers, Pickers.

Following Strings, Lanes In Maine Blueberry Fields, Raking Up A Storm.

When the mercury sits low in the tube. Wind howls, drifts. Clearing a slow, low pitch Maine home porch or camp roof. That is more like the turtle than the hare in shedding snowflakes.

Or hunkered down, with water repellant fishing gear at the helm of a diesel boat in a north east gale ocean wind.

Hauling in, hoisting up dark green clawed Maine lobsters.

Maine Is Wearing Good Warm Clothes. Or Nothing At All.

Maine Blueberries, From Downeast Maine. Pick, Rake, Harvest. Clothing Optional.

During the winter months, from the ocean’s floor with locations all marked by colorful floating surface buoys. That salt water keeps from freezing in. Static frozen in still frame.

So color is less a concern in Maine for clothing. No one out to impress. No one seeking to cause any tag left on for shock value price envy.

We don’t name drop in Maine.

That game does not work here in the Pine Tree state. Because Mainers don’t play, care about name brands. We like paid for, frequent good as new, second time around Goodwill type stores. Where wool blend clothing that sets you back a couple bucks a copy works just fine.

It’s all about cool, warm, comfortable and no or low cost when talking, describing Maine clothing. Hand me downs.

The blazer with no bullet or moth holes.

That has the leather elbow patches and exotic far away name, expert tailor stitching. That the original now deceased, passed away Maine owner just left hanging in the closet unworn. Or with very few miles logged. Because his wife like it, he… well, not so much.

Maybe it was the buttoned collar and tie cutting off air to the windpipe, not the blazer. Or the fact that dressing up was just not his forte. Made him feel like a brook trout out of water. Or the center of attention, was seeking mirror mirror on the wall notice. Putting on heirs. Just not the way he, most true Mainers are wired.

Maine Is Second Hand Clothing, Low Or No Cost Options.

Dressed For Fun, The Outdoor Application. Not Being A Clotheshorse. Or Out To Impress. Just Warm, Cool, Comfortable.

As temperatures increase and you find yourself wielding a 45 tine blueberry rake on the barrens in Downeast Maine, less clothing is more like it.

Cool is where it is at. Especially for the NASCAR nimble, skilled, quick imported laborers from Honduras. Who drive 80 to 90 tine Maine blueberry rakes.

The new to the game, less polished players wield the lower number models with small scoops. Taking longer time spent filling boxes. Like small size potato baskets fill cedar or plywood field barrels. Added production time, lower ticket results at sundown of a frosty beginning, hot as Hades tail end of the day field laboring to help an area farmer.

Clothing that works in Maine. Why do you think LL Bean is a Maine company and so successful? The guarantee money back or else helps. The fact it works first, looks rugged and appealing making a fashion statement second. Flashy is not the end all with clothing in Maine.

Save that for the polo match, Kentucky Derby, Hollywood film premier.

Maine Snow Skiing, Swish Swish.

Looking Like Bank Robbers, But Layered For Maine Down Hill Skiing.

Neither is the color the cat’s meow for clothing. Unless you are a flagger in summer on a busy Maine highway.

Where visibility at the new 75 miles per hour on I-95 roadwork means dress brightly. Stay eyes peeled, nimble running that steam roller, paving machinery.

Where Maine traffic fines are double in the construction zones. For those who ignore the pedal to the metal reflex.

To zing behind the wheel of paid for hung onto, life long friend like vehicles. With names like boats in a Maine harbor.

Maybe not with all the fenders the same matched color the factory sprayed on, clear coated. To get across Maine, north to south, east to west quickly. And hopefully not make a flagger, other construction worker a casualty, hood ornament.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Volunteers, Not Regulars, You See Them Around Maine.

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Maine is outdoors, four seasons, all natural.

And as you travel the side roads, or hike up trails, you see “volunteers”.

Climbing Mt Katahdin, Blue Berries Happen.

Maine Blueberries… Show Up Single File Here And There As Volunteers.

baxterpark10 Not the two legged kind. That pitch in and many almost have personal ministries run behind the scenes. I know of three ladies that all they do year round is knit.

Really neat hand made mittens, warm hats for winter use. And they deliver the year long fruit of their labors. To local schools and ask the teachers to make sure they get to where they belong.

On the hands, heads of kids that come to school with neither. Neat habit to pearl one and knit two when making wool hand and head coverings of all colors. To match the multitude of personalities of the new owners these born to knit ladies never get to meet.

No, the volunteers today Me In Maine blog post fans are the ones that spring up, grow in the oddest places.

Or are like kids that lose both parents, have no brothers, sisters, grand parents or aunts, uncles. On their own. To raise themselves.

Beyond the tree line of easier growing conditions. The kind you see climbing Mt Katahdin. In a nook and cranny of rock, not so hospitable growing conditions. Blueberries happen. Scrub pines, firs too. But all very hardy, resilient, determined. Weathering the harsh growing, weather surroundings and standing out because they are armies of one. Lone wolf plants, trees for hikers to enjoy. But that live here through wind chills of winter, rains of the spring, all that can come at you for weather in Maine.

Maine Corn, Potatoes... It Happens.

See What Is Out Of Place, Does Not Really Belong ?

In Maine potato lingo, “volunteers” are spuds that grow up next year in a neglected field. That were not planted new, visited by the equipment that always annually shows up in spring with new seed.

But that just show up. Seemingly on their own, raised by themselves. In a rag tag collection of other regenerated seed, left overs from something hanging around from last fall’s harvest. That froze, sunburned, was not field gleaned. Eaten by man or beast. That made it to plant itself after a blanket of frost, white fluffy ground covering.

There is a life lesson sermon in that pick yourself up by the bootstraps for another blog post.

Today coming in from the lake getaway, preparing to fuel up on black fresh hot coffee at Cameron’s Market (that Bangor Metro says has the best pizza in all of Northern Maine), something caught the corner of the eye. I thought of the kid’s educational game “One Of These Things”. That is not like the others. See the sea of green? Spot it Bert, Ernie, Prairie Dawn in the audience?

Maine Farm Field, Potatoes, Corn Too!

Raised In A Maine Potato Field, Orphaned But Adopted By Hills, Rows Of Spuds.

The corn stalk that BOINNNG.

Sprung up taller and towering over the Maine potato plants that are inching closer and nearer to a fall spud harvest.

Did Lilley Farms in Smyrna Maine who run a spread of black and white milkers plant the fodder corn seedling? As a fellow grower playful joke, diversion?

Or looking closely, hey wait a minute. Looks organic, like Nature’s Circle…Dick, Sue, Meg, Lowell and the neighborhood farm gang have a hand in this. Or was the single corn seed air lifted by a pair of feather wings?

Drilled in the fertile, tilled soil by a bird? Who air dropped the kernel on the way by overhead? When bomb bay rear doors opened, surrounded by some natural fertilizer to give it a start occurred?

Brought in from a neighboring field where the black bird stopped for a snack. That went from stem to stern. Through his system naturally. In a place where all you could see in any direction was corn planted. No potatoes trespassed. Just long ears, darkening white to brown silk. Spilling, sprewing out the tops corners of each green covering of yellow rows protected inside.

The single corn stalk.

That a raccoon or black bear already sampled it’s production. In a late night snack. The corn that somehow drifted into this New Limerick potato field of Buzzy and Andrea Nightingale. All fertilized by what the potato plants dine on for a 3 number cocktail side dressing. Or bringing covered dish, it’s own wrapped container of nutrients. To assure success out of the gate last spring?

Or was subject matter, topic selection for this blog post pretty meager today? It happens. You decide and thank you for following our Maine blog post collection faithful reader.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker

Local Maine Talent, Hand Made, Pretty Much One Of A Kind.

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Be honest, when you stop and think about it is there really anything you actually need when birthday, an anniversary comes around?

When you have logged a few trips around the annual race track of life and have passed the accumulation stage? So when it is time for gift giving, so the receiver knows lots of thought went into this purchase, Maine home made, hand made items score huge.

The Unique State Of Maine Hand Drawn, Creatively Depicted.

The Unique State Of Maine Hand Drawn, Creatively Depicted.

Because they were not mass produced.

Plucked off the shelf of a big box, Wally World from rows and rows of a sea of samness. And the chances of duplicate gifts being opened by the receiver are scant. Pretty darn slim. Maine Made is one site with lots of variety when hunting down the just perfect gift for someone special.

Or what the heck.

Don’t wait to receive something that excites you. Hope someone gets the elbow nudge and springs for something that catches your fancy. If you spy with your little eye something in a quaint Maine shop, in an online “boutique”, buy it.

Life is all about small pleasures. And who better than you to know what pulls at heart strings… yours.

Have a youngest son who’s girlfriend Cindy is an artist.

Just got a job in the Raymond Maine area as an art teacher. And here is a shameless plug for Cynthia Taylor, an up and coming side artist that has launched a side cottage industry like business.

Home Made Maine Map.

How To Get To Houlton Maine. Follow The Threads.

Offering online items with an extra helping of Maine theme.

That continue to grow in type, selection now that she lives in the Pine Tree State. The items that make excellent Maine gifts.

Local art hand made and not found at retail chains.

Don’t we all want something not like what everyone else has that is pretty unique?

Like music. I liked Billy Joel even more before the rest of the World discovered him after Cold Spring Harbor.

Played at the right speed, not the chipmunk sounding sped up master that slipped out into record stores, radio stations near you.

Back in the day. When black vinyl, big and little platters of it were spun for entertainment. In the “playing what you’re saying”.

Stacks of wax used to entertain.

Some going gold, selling a million copies or more. Kids saving up and buying an 33 and a third album, a 45 rpm single. To add to the meager, handful of artist collection. With neat cover art, the lyric sheets tucked inside.

Before today’s 3500 digital not analog songs on an ipod to select from, hokey pokey to on the go.

Galette Recipe, Hand Made, Written Down.

Home Made, Special, Here’s One Recipe.

New, up and coming, creative artists in Maine, there are plenty to reach out and connect with thanks to the Internet.

The leg up it gives aspiring artisans in Maine where the wide open space, all this fresh air and clean water, rolling wooded land is the perfect backdrop. To let loose and fashion something special, memorable, lasting.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, Real Estate Broker