Being in the Moment

End of the Day, Town Landing, Falmouth, Maine

Spring in our house always feels jam-packed.  The to-do lists are long, the days fly by, and suddenly, after winter's long semi-hibernation, I wish I only needed about two hours of sleep a night.  There just aren't enough hours in a day for us to do the work that pays the bills plus do the million and one house projects that somehow feel most urgent in spring plus keep up with the classes I'm taking, plus get my own writing projects done, plus see friends and family plus workout daily plus cook meals plus--and most pressing and exciting for me--work in the garden.

Just Before Dusk, Congress Square, Portland, Maine

I'm grateful for my iPhone camera, because it reminds me in the midst of all of these tasks and commitments (so many of which I love) to pause and breathe and just take note of what's around me.  My word for the year is "see," and I live in a part of the world where so much of what there is to see is beautiful.  But I see what's not beautiful, too, and I believe that's just as important.    

Early Morning on Moulton Street, Portland, Maine

So many of us feel rushed and stressed these days more than ever.  I think that as much as we love them, our technologies--our phones and laptops and various other gadgets and devices--play a big part in this stress and in this feeling of never being able to truly shut down, rest, retreat.  It's up to us to take charge and use this incredible technology for our own benefit--to determine how we use it rather than letting it gradually take over.  So, I love to use my phone to take photos of simple, quiet moments.  I share some, but many more I just keep for myself to enjoy.  I also make sure that when I go for walks or out to eat I don't always bring my phone with me.  Sometimes it's best to just be in the moment, no need to record it.  I don't need a photo of every pretty latte I drink or every gorgeous rose I see.  That makes the photos I do take all the more precious to me.

I'd love to know what you do to slow down and relax.  What helps you rest and recharge?

The Sun and the Moon and the Sea

There are days that stretch far beyond the limits of time.  

Clouds race endlessly across the blue, tides rise and fall,

and still the day continues, each moment of it holding fast to the part of one's mind where what matters most finds a home.

We share a day like this, my love and I.  The sun sets, the moon rises, and still we carry on. 

And what wonders we see.  Mythical birds one last night

before they leave their summer home

to fly back to the sea, where they have always flown.

Nothing about the day fades.  Each moment stays.

The sun has set again and again since then,

and yet this one persists.

We are rich with it.

Swept into silence by the wind, we watch the powder-white disc of the moon curve over the trees.

We could be infants or creatures from another world, how new this all suddenly seems,

and yet as ancient as the cry of a herring gull, the path of a snail through sodden sand.

And we wake early to find the sun again, impatient for the light,

even as the day before etches itself into our minds

lasting as long as we need it,

as long as we seek it,

as long as forever turns out to be.

Happy 20 years, Mr. Magpie.  

Note to you, my friends: I shot all of these photos over the weekend of the Super Moon this month.  The first ones are up off St. George Peninsula at Eastern Egg Rock, where Project Puffin has worked arduously for 40 years to restore the puffin population of coastal Maine.  If you ever have the chance to take a boat tour out to see the puffins, grab it!  They truly are wondrous little birds.  The sunrise pictures are on St. George Peninsula at Tenants Harbor.  The last couple of moonrise shots I took at the public landing in Falmouth Foreside.  

I am grateful every day that I live in such a beautiful part of the world.  

P.S. The other birds in the photos are an osprey, gulls (and other sea birds) flying over Eastern Egg Rock, and a great blue heron out fishing for his early morning breakfast. 

The Essence of Living Locally

Stone wall, Peaks Island, Maine 

Just touching base today to wish a warm and happy Thanksgiving to American readers of The Magpie's Fancy!  

I also wanted to let you know that I have two stories in the newest issue of t.e.l.l. New England Magazine.  I'm thrilled to have my writing and photographs in t.e.l.l.  It is a beautiful publication that celebrates the local people, places, and traditions of New England.  The editors are creating a unique place for writers and photographers from the region to showcase their work, and I'm honored to be a part of it.  I was also pleased as punch to discover that my friend Laurie Wheeler has two photos in this issue as well.  

Click here to see the magazine.  You can adjust it to fit your screen size, and you can zoom in for easier reading.  My pieces, "Peaks Island Homecoming" and "Conjuring Autumn," are on pages 20 and 116, respectively.  I wrote the text and took the photos for the first story.  Jenn Bakos took the wonderful pumpkin pictures that accompany the second one.  You'll find gorgeous articles and photos throughout the magazine, plus some tempting autumnal recipes.  

Stone tower on the Back Shore, Peaks Island, Maine

I can't think of a better time than Thanksgiving to celebrate all things local.  As the big box stores seek to destroy the last vestiges of what is special about the holiday this year by opening their doors on Thanksgiving day itself, I am happy to ignore them.  I'll shop at local stores on Small Business Saturday, and I'll stop for a coffee at a favorite local cafe.  I know that I am fortunate to live in a city brimming with incredible shops and restaurants, but even here the chain stores are starting to encroach upon the local shopping district, and we now have not one but two Starbucks in our beautiful Old Port.

We have a choice.  We don't have to shop and eat and do all our daily business at chains.  In Portland we have more outstanding local coffee shops than I can count on two hands . . . and hundreds of restaurants . . . and many, many incredible bakeries . . . and dozens of specialty boutiques . . . and that Maine Adventure known as Reny's Department Store.  We can completely and utterly ignore the chains this Christmas . . . if we want to.  

I want to.  I love living locally.  I love thinking locally.  I love that other folks do, too.  And I love that my city doesn't look or feel or smell quite like any other city I've ever been to.  I love that the shopkeepers in all my favorite stores know me by name, and vice versa.  I can't say the same for the mall just over the city line.  If you've seen one mall, you've seen them all.  

Chickens in Autumn, Peaks Island, Maine

I am sending much joy to you and yours as the holiday season kicks into high gear.  May you be surrounded by those you love, and as the torrential rains pour down here in New England, may you all stay warm and dry.

xo Gigi

How to Start the Day

This is our breakfast spot.  On days when we have a little time in the morning, we pick up bagels slathered in pimento cheese  here  or whatever looks most amazing here and head to Cape Elizabeth to watch the day begin at Portland Head Light.

It's never the same twice.  I've munched happily here on calm days, during fierce storms, and every kind of day in between.

This is one of the most painted and photographed lighthouses in the world, so I have nothing new to show or tell about it.  Like so many others, I take pictures every single time I am here.  I'm drawn to the beauty of the light itself, but also to the ancient, cragged rocks, and to the sound of the waves.  Always the waves.  See?  Nothing new here.  Just crazy love.

This isn't even the first time I've posted about the lighthouse, and I have a funny feeling that it won't be the last time.  For more sunrise shots like the one below, take a peek here.  For other pretty ones, look here.  

And for those of you who are wondering, no one died in the Annie C. Maguire shipwreck of Christmas Eve, 1886. 

Bluer than the Deep Blue Sea: Coming Home from Across the Pond

We spent the last days of summer in London and on the Sussex shore.  It was Mr. and Mrs. Magpie and Mrs. Magpie's Mum on a weeklong adventure that left us with our suitcases and brains stuffed to overflowing with treasures.  Sine we've been back, I've been a bit blue.  

I always love London, and I'll have photos and links to share, as always, but for today, just a few pared down shots of Brighton.  I'd never been to Brighton before, but I had heard so much about it that I felt I knew what to expect: tatty seaside town, pier, greasy fish and chips, tacky shops.  Brighton does have those things, of course, but it has so much more, and I developed a little crush on the place.

I have loads of Brighton photos to post, places to mention, and adventures to share.  They'll be coming soon.  Well, just as soon as I can pull myself up out of these blues.  

I slip into a sort of melancholy whenever I return from England.  To call it homesickness is too grand a word, since I have never stayed there for more than a stretch of a few weeks, but I do miss it terribly every single time I come back.  What's to miss?  Well, in the case of Brighton, there's this:  

"But, Gigi," you may say, "you live near the sea in the States!"  

Ah, yes, I do, and I love it.  I also love the seaside in Brighton.  It's quite different.  For one, the beach is made of large, knobbly pebbles, not sand, and the water there tends towards pale greeny blues that we don't often see in Maine.  And then there's the chalk cliffs.  Here we have granite ones.  Both are awe inspiring, but they make for completely different sorts of experiences.    

What I think impressed me most in Brighton was the architecture, from the Georgian and Victorian townhouses to the quirky shops of North Laine.

And then there is King George IV's Royal Pavilion.  I think that deserves a post all its own, don't you?   

We've been back since the beginning of the month, and life has been full and eventful and rich, but I can't shake these blues, so I think I shall wallow in their depth a bit longer and wade back to shore only when I'm good and ready.  

In the meantime, I promise that I really will have some wonderful links and photos to share.  Misery, after all, loves company, so you can long for some lazy days by the beautiful sea with me.   

The Whirl

Summer has spun ever faster this year, but suddenly we are nearing the moment when the merry-go-round man flips the switch, slowing us down, easing us--whether we want it or not--into that last turn towards Fall. 

August in Maine is always spectacular, and this one especially so, which we needed after a winter of record-breaking snows, a spring of bitter rains, and a July that was either light-the-fire cold or run-to-Walmart-for-a-window-AC hot.  The last two weeks have been blissful, sunshiny warm.  The coneflowers and brown-eyed Susans have thrived, the dahlias have exploded like fireworks, and the roses have bloomed, bloomed, and bloomed some more.

I am working on a garden post to show you how much the new beds have grown.  Summer in Maine is short.  Gardening's a challenge, especially since we are under snow so much of the year, but those months of bloom that we do get are all the more special for it.  And for me, September just might be the best of them all, so I will have much to show you.  

In the meantime, I wanted to share a few links to special places in our area.  If you live here or are planning a trip to Maine soon, here's a very short list of summer/early fall love:

Dining Fancies

The Well at Jordan's Farm (dine by candlelight in a field of flowers)

Kettle Cove Creamery (dessert after the The Well perhaps :)--take it to the beach to watch sunset)

Five Islands Lobster Company (Real Maine food in a stunning location)

Adventure Fancies

Casco Bay Lines Sunrise Cruise (leaves at 5 a.m.--absolutely beautiful tour of the bay)

Portland Trails (walk or bike for miles on beautiful trails)

Coastal Maine Botanical Garden (an award-winning garden right on the coast--loads of walking trails)

I'll have more links soon!

For now, I hope all of you in this hemisphere are soaking up every last bit of summer beauty you can.  

xo Gigi  

A Bit More Mist . . . and a Few Thoughts About Solitude and Togetherness

Do you mind a few more photos of fog?  These are shots I took at Willard Beach in South Portland.  It's a lovely neighborhood beach in any weather, but I do love a good rolling fog for a walk. 

I also wanted to say thank you for all the wonderful comments and emails about my last post.  They made my week.  

I can't help it; in my head I've named this shot "The Happy Couple."

I've been writing a great deal lately, and helping clients work on their writing projects, which is a process that brings rewards of its own.  Often when people ask me for advice about how to become a writer, I am hard pressed to give them any one answer.  Of course, reading heaps of books is up near the top of my list, and writing every day--or as close to every day as possible.  But I think maybe the most essential trait a writer can cultivate is a love of solitude.  Social butterflies are not suited to the task.

When you do seek companionship, it is helpful to find others who love solitude, too.  Then you can be alone together.  They need to be people who don't fret when you wander off for hours to stare at leaves and shells and rocks and twigs.  They need to feel very secure in their own ability to be alone when you lock yourself away for hours to write. They need to not wait for you to come out of hiding.  Instead, they must have their own quiet obsessions that occupy long stretches of time.  In this way, when you do come back together, it will be out of a mutual joy in the work and play you are both pursuing.  There will be much to share, much that sustains both. 

And there will be no petty jealousy.  Each will support the other in his or her pursuits.  I'm not saying this is an easy path to choose, but it is certainly a more joyous and productive one when we can share it with like-minded spirits.  This all seems like an obvious thing to say, but I know what it's like when a writer (or an artist of any kind) tries to share her life with someone who does not understand the need for solitude.  This leads to a silent pen, which leads to loneliness, something utterly different from solitude.  The latter nourishes, the former leeches one dry. 

Are you someone, writer or not, who needs solitude?  If so, how do you find it?  I think it is increasingly rare in our relentlessly "connected" world.  One trick I have is that I don't watch television . . . at all . . . ever.  I'd love to hear some of your strategies for finding solitude.

Wishing you a week of beauty and lots of creative energy, my friends!