Maine Takes on Manhattan: ice rink bliss

Jan 5 2016 ICE 2 001

I am content to lounge, sip hazelnut coffee and listen to the ice moan and groan as it gives birth to a ginormous tri-color skating rink.

Compare my rink on Little Sebago Lake—endless, uncrowded, and free—to Central Parks’ or Rockefeller Centers’. I think you’ll agree that mine is priceless. Maine. The way life is.

Ics skates 2016 002ice jan 2016

The rink is ready. So are my skates. The same skates I wore in Millinocket, Maine, in elementary school. Only the pom-poms have changed. Ok, so maybe the inner tongue lining is missing from one, and maybe the sole cushions are gone from both, but they are magic. They propel me frontward and backward and take me places I’m still lucky enough to go!


Seagull Blues: a day on the lake

Seagull with merganser

I love that the seagull thinks he is a merganser.
Or perhaps he feels “If I just hold back, they’ll let me tag along.
It beats being lonely.”
I love that the mergansers play with the idea.
Float with it.
Dunk with it.
They are different.
They are alike.
They are homeward bound.
Pond paddling.
Lake landing.
One body of water at a time.