Well, you can be here, though my photos . . . right?
Today was another beautiful one on the Maine coast. We visited Deer Island and the town of Stonington. I think Stonington just may be the lobster capitol of the world.
George on the beach this morning. He’s in his element. Did you know he was actually born near here? George was born in July of 2007 in Ellsworth, Maine.
Our cottage. It’s really beautiful inside. Very simple with pine floors and old kilim rugs everywhere. Leather furniture in the living room, and a big king size bed with two twins upstairs in the single bedroom. The only thing that’s missing is a view of the sea.
I’m reading The Lobster Chronicles on the little front deck.
The weather continues to amaze me. I looked up from my reading spot this afternoon and saw this beautiful sky.
Later in the afternoon, after a drive all around this island, we went to Stonington to get some lobsters for dinner. What an absolutely picturesque little town this is. In the background, the big island is Isle au Haut. It means High Island and the locals pronounce it Aisle –a –hoe.
We went to 3 different lobster places before finding this one. All the others had packed them up for the day and sent them to market.
This is a co-op operation, as most of them are here in the village. One of the other lobster places gave me directions to this one. I had to traverse this very narrow gangplank that you see here to get to the floating dock where the lobsters are being distributed. The boy in the grey t-shirt had just pulled in with a crate of hardshells and he pushed them down the gangplank just ahead of me, yelling, “crate o’ hardshells comin’ down!”
I was just in time because they’d just run out.
I asked for “two one-and- a- half pounders, please” and told them I wanted to get a picture, as well. They asked where I was from and told me to enjoy my lahbsta dinna. That’s how it sounded to me, with that thick Maine accent.
After I ascended the plank and was on my way to pay, I turned and saw this lovely site in the Stonington Harbor.
Be still, my heart.
Back home, my husband brings the lobster pot to a rolling boil and plunges both of them in and holds down the top in case they try to get out.
For a second, I was sad because we were killing them, and it was hard to listen to, but it only lasted a couple of seconds and then they were silent (thank God).
My dinner tonight was absolutely, positively fantastic. Lobsters fresh out of the water, a garden salad, and crusty garlic bread.
I will tell you, though, that although this Maryland girl is quite adept at picking blue crabs, she is absolutely clueless when it comes to lobster. My husband told me it was difficult to watch but I figured it out (eventually).
Tomorrow, we go for a hike in Acadia National Park. Went on a small one today to an old quarry. I think my husband is trying to build me up for the Big One. Say prayers for me, k?
Until the next time I’m able to post, my friends . . .