December

Like much of the northeastern US, we had a snowy Thanksgiving.  I woke early and peeked out the back window to discover several large branches of the great old white pine scattered across the yard, and dozens of juncos, sparrows, finches, and squirrels hustling about, gathering up the black-oil sunflower seeds that were now easy to spot against the crisp, white snow beneath the feeders. 

All weekend I said thank you's in my mind, humming Peanuts Christmas music to myself and feeling grateful for the roof over my head and the calm center our little house provides when the cold winds--both real and metaphorical--rage outside.  Family and friends gathered.  There were dinners and leftovers and parties, plus late-night movies and early morning pumpkin pie.  

And this morning I flipped the calendar to a new page.  Ah, the chimney cleaners come tomorrow, just in time for all the fires we will light against the growing cold and dark.  Like the birds and squirrels with their seeds, I've been gathering supplies, taking stock.  The shelves are full, and we are as ready as anyone can be, I suppose, for what the winter will bring.  I've snipped fresh greens from the fallen branches to fill the window boxes and line the mantle.  Soon we'll cut down our wild beast of a tree from the local farm where we've gone each year since we moved back to Maine, and as we guide it through the kitchen door, with a great blustery rush the whole house will fill with the scent of a frozen forest.  And so winter will begin. 

The Edge of Autumn

Good morning, chickadees.  I was out working in the garden earlier, deadheading the Abraham Darby roses, weeding the raised beds, gathering ground cherries to make salsa, and harvesting scarlet runner beans for next year's seeds--and I thought of you.  As I worked, the sun warmed my skin without burning.  I looked up to see the bees hopping from the fennel to the bee balm to the anise hyssop.

The last daisies are opening and the phlox is nearly all gone by.  Even so, the dahlias are just beginning to hit their stride, the asters are on the verge of blooming, and the chocolate eupatorium has yet to even start.  We've a ways to go, and even though I know the frosts will come in another month, I can't help but love this very moment in the garden best.  Here, teetering on the edge, I savor every bit of September's sweetness as the tomatoes blush and the whole garden gives one last glorious push before the fall.

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. 

Autumn Artichokes and Pistachios

I promise I have one more post about the England trip, but I couldn't let another day pass without sharing a quick and easy baked stuffed artichoke dish I made the other night.  I know artichokes can seem daunting, and they do take a little work, but they are so worth the effort.  And when I saw these beauties at the store, I needed to scoop them up.  They were incredibly fresh and the size of large grapefruits (or small melons!)--perfect for stuffing.

Lemon and Pistachio Stuffed Artichokes

~Makes two very large servings (I ate half of mine and finished the rest for lunch the next day)

~All measurements are approximate.  I eyeball everything when I cook!  This recipe is very forgiving, and you can easily make substitutions as you go.

• two extra-large artichokes
• 2/3 cup pistachios, shelled and roughly chopped
• approximately 1 cup crushed crackers or bread crumbs (I used lavash every seed crackers)
• 1/3 cup freshly grated parmigiano reggiano (plus extra for sprinkling on top)
• zest and juice of one lemon
• 2 mince garlic cloves
• large handful chopped fresh parsley
• salt and pepper, to taste
• olive oil (I use it as needed to moisten the filling and then to drizzle on top after the artichokes come out of the oven)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

To prepare the artichokes, cut off the stems with a serrated knife, making the bottoms flat so they will sit upright in the baking dish.  Then cut off the top 1/3 of the each artichoke.  You'll still have some tough outside leaves.  Pull these off.  Take a sharp serrated knife and trim the outside of each artichoke until you have no tough, fibrous parts left.  If you are new to cooking artichokes, there are loads of online photo tutorials for trimming them.  In fact, you can visit Saveur for a good one.

Once I've removed all the tough outside leaves, I take a knife or pointed grapefruit spoon and scoop out the hairy choke inside.  When you spread the leaves apart a little, you'll see it at the center.  Scoop it out, making sure you remove all the fibrous hairs.  They don't feel good in one's mouth!

Now rub the whole denuded and rather sad-looking artichoke (I promise it will become beautiful again) with a half a lemon.  The lemon juice helps to keep it from discoloring.

Okay, all the hard stuff is out of the way.  I promise.  From now on it's easy peasy lemon squeezy.  Toss all the stuffing ingredients together in a bowl, adding the olive oil last, just to moisten the whole lot.  It will look, smell, and taste gorgeous.

Hold an artichoke in one hand and scoop stuffing into it.  I use my clean bare hands, making sure I get stuffing in between the layers of leaves--every crevice--leaving no lovely ruffly space unfilled.  When you're finished, you'll have these rather sexy rosettes overflowing with goodness.

Place them in a flat-bottomed casserole dish, pour in about an inch of boiling water around them, being careful not to pour the water over the stuffing (this will give them a steam bath in the oven).  

Rub some olive oil on one side of a large piece of foil.  Cover the dish completely with the olive oil facing in towards the artichokes.  Now tie a piece of cooking twine around the edge of the dish to hold the foil tightly in place during cooking.

Bake for about 45 minutes.

When the artichokes come out they will be tender and luscious.  I like to take off the foil cover and pop them under the broiler for a couple of minutes to crisp up the tops.  Then I sprinkle a little more cheese and a small glug of olive oil.

I placed our artichokes at the center of a bowl of pasta that I'd tossed with some simple aglio olio I'd made while the artichokes were cooking (heat oil in a pan, toss in minced garlic, red pepper flakes, fresh parsley, salt and pepper, then cook for about five minutes--that's it).

The stuffing tumbled out into the pasta as we ate, using a combination of fingers and forks and knives to work our way through the layers of the artichoke, making the entire meal a treasure hunt.  And the combination of lemon, pistachio, and cheese in the stuffing creates a very special flavor--a little sweet, very nutty, but balanced by the acidity of the citrus and the salt of the cheese.  I think you will love it, too.

I truly think this is the best time of year for cooking and sharing meals.  Happy October, my friends!  

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