The Little Red Cottage where we stayed for most of our trip to Maine. This grand adventure was one of our most memorable trips ever. These fotos were lost for years after the 2010 house fire and recently recovered. A good many remain missing and probably lost forever. Life goes on anyway. I started composing this foto-essay for my family in August 2024, 15 years after those wonderful, halcyon summer days of August 2009. We all loved this little cabin. You can see the blue waters of the lake thru openings in the trees.

Crawford Pond, the huge lake the Little Red Cottage overlooks. The cabin sits back in the woods up on a ridge overlooking the water’s edge. Both cottage and pond weren’t too far from the little town of Union in Downeast Maine. In Maine and in much of New England and indeed the Northeast in general lakes are called ponds. Most other places including where I grew up in the South and later while living in the Northwest small lakes were called ponds and the big ones just lakes. We swam and paddled in beautiful, fun Crawford Pond daily. From Monday 17 August 2009.

Water’s Edge. Canoe of dreams. People didn’t worry about theft despite stories of rare, rogue hermits back in the woods who pilfered around for supplies.

Kate takes the leap!

Happy sisters! Morgan (now Dylan) & Talia grinning away at Acadia National Park, From Wednesday 19 August 2009.

These two former lovebirds, however, when together during those years were the reason this Familymoon Adventure happened. Kristina Katayama Bass & William Dudley Bass at Acadia National Park, Maine, on Wednesday the 19th of August 2009.

Our trip to Maine was also made possible by Kristina’s close friend Andrea of Connecticut, whose family owned land up in Maine on and around Crawford Pond including the Little Red Cottage. Andrea invited us to join her and her sons there for a rent-free week. We helped out with groceries, chores, shared car expenses, and honored the water restrictions, of course. Andrea’s was a most generous wedding gift, and our blended family of 5 most appreciated it. Here’s Andrea, in green fleece on picture left, with Kristina, on picture right in the white shirt, on the 20-mile roundtrip boat ride to Monhegan Island out in the Atlantic.

Newly handfasted, Kristina & William about to jump the broom during their Wedding. Talia holds the top of the broom handle on picture left while Kate & Morgan hold still the bristles in the head of the broom.

Woo HOO!

Our Familymoon to Maine was really about honoring these three sisters, what they bring into our lives and into our community, and what we do for them. Left to right: Talia (age 7), Kate (age 10), & Morgan (age 15). Saturday 11 July 2009.

BAM! Morgan, in a hurry to go find the restroom, runs into the, to her, invisible glass door. Her knee cracks the glass into a spider’s web of cracks. We are amazed! And she is too stunned and baffled to feel much pain. She claims she never even saw there was a door, just an open walk-thru. The shopkeeper, however, is FREAKING OUT! He was a citizen new to America, a person of color, and is overtly afraid we are going to sue him for damages, so he tells us not to worry about anything. He keeps checking to see if our daughter is OK. It’s clear to him America is, unfortunately, a highly litigious country. His insurance is supposed to cover this freak accident anyway. Right? Morgan claims she’s fine, just a little bit sore. So we tell him not to worry, just where are the restrooms, please? We had stopped to refuel the car with gasoline at his little gas station advertising itself as a donut, ice cream, & soda shop. We were all just as startled as Morgan and the shopkeeper were. Brought back memories of me crashing thru a glass door as a little boy racing thru the farmhouse back in Virginia and broken glass was scattered everywhere yet without any injuries. Morgan’s knee didn’t seem to bother her much on this trip, but it would trouble her from time to time later on in life. Saturday the 15th of August 2009. We arrived late that evening after leaving Seattle on Friday the 14th. One thing for sure: the shopkeeper should congratulate himself on how clean his glass panes are!

This astonished us all. We were grateful no one was seriously injured.

Andrea’s Little Red Cottage beckons from the woods near the lake. A large yard spreads uphill to merge into fields and more woods. Monday 17 August 2009.

We immediately fell in love with this cute red cabin. We fell in love with the whole area.

Kate exits the cozy little kitchen.

The kitchen is tight, rustic, and we must conserve water. Despite the lake next to us, much of Maine is in a drought. The local families fret their wells may run dry. It has happened before. Here, however, we must empty the trash and clean up as we go. Andrea especially loved her steamed milk espresso machine, and showed us how to use to make hot chocolates as well. The machine’s not in this picture, tho, LOL! Nevertheless, one of our blended family’s mottos is, “We clean up as we go.”

There’s no AC here, and it’s hot and humid here on the East Coast. These ceiling fans, however, kept the cottage nice and cool. There’s no heating system, either, and the water’s turned off Fall thru Winter into late Spring. The Little Red Cottage is one of the stereotypical old-timey Summer Cabins of the Northern states.

Andrea’s two sons got along incredibly well with our 3 girls. They were courteous, welcoming, and fun, especially considering the somewhat cramped sleeping situations. Squabbles were few. One of the boys looks as if he’s trying to snap a foto of Talia’s stuffed fish toy while Kate is amused.

Every window’s a portal into tranquil views of nature at peace.

It was a different story on the outside of these windows, too. Huge – to us from the Pacific Northwest – spiders, big plump orb-weaver spiders guarded those windows. We kept them shut!

Wouldn’t you?

Pretty flowers were a welcome distraction from the giant spiders.

The North Woods of Maine and the brushy, grassy edges ringing the fields and lawns are infested with ticks. Even me, raised on a farm in Virginia and used to getting lots of ticks on me all the time, got the most ticks on me ever in the State of Maine. Twas taking a dump back in the bushes on the side of a hill along the Appalachian Trail. Had about 300 on me. Scoured them out with handfuls of wet sand and grit as I thrashed naked in a freezing cold creek. Left my skin bloody, raw, and clean. Those 300 Ticks were way back in 1991. Zounds! Maine!

Loved gazing up into the tops of those big North Woods trees.

There hides an outhouse on the edge of those woods atop the low hill behind the cabin. See it? There on the left?

The privy for when the one flush toilet in a cottage full of 8 people & random guests isn’t available.

Kate & Morgan goofin’ on one of the sofas. Monday the 17th of August 2009.

Those kids played so many hands of poker. The boys taught Kate & Talia how to play, and they quickly became really good. Morgan sometimes played, but like me, wasn’t too fond of cards and preferred to curl up with a good book to read instead. Once some of the adults happened to walk by just as Talia removed her socks and, surprised, made sure the kids were NOT playing strip poker. Talia didn’t quite know what it was at her age, and the older kids were surprised and grossed out.Also don’t recall which adult misconstrued matters, LOL! All of us, however, felt protective of all of the children.

Tater Tot Poker Face tongue!

“Back to the game, Dad.”

Well, don’t know what’s going on here, and, hey, each one of those kids knows a lot about poker than I ever did!

Munchkin! The real hero of the Little Red Cottage! Munchkin is so tiny, and he has only one eye left. He lost the other one when he punctured it bouncing around sniffing down into freshly mowed wild grass stalks. One of the severed stalks of grass stabbed his eyeball. Can’t imagine the agony! He was a lovable little dog, very friendly, and already along in years. We all adored him. Thing is, I never cared for tiny little lap dogs before I met Munchkin. Used to dismiss them as silly foo-foo dogs for an eccentric mix of spoiled, rich people and trailer park mamas. Not Munchkin. He slayed bullshit! And he hopped up into your lap like a cat showing you who’s boss, too. And he’s tinier than a cat! And he was so affectionate. Yeah, we all loved that little bitty doggie, and he opened my heart to appreciate other powerful, little foo-foos, too.

Munchkin outside the cabin.

Edge of the yard and the woods beyond…

Love these little clusters of dense vegetation thriving in the rocky Maine soil.

Someone had to mow out these little meadow-like cul-de-sacs in the forest. Monday 17 August 2009.

The Lake dominates. Life centers around, in, and on the Lake more than in the woods onshore or the Little Red Cottage. Everyone referred to it as Crawford Pond when describing it to others, but amongst ourselves we simply called it, The Lake. Monday 17 August 2009.

Memories

Do you see the giant stone turtle head rock?

One of Andrea’s family’s canoes.

Sticky Balls!

Tiger lilies still closed early in the northern mornings as summer’s going going going but not yet gone…

Ragged purple blossoms

Clusters in the shade

We’re at the Jumping Rock with the big rope swing. Andrea was at first hesitant to take us out there as there were risks and hazards, and outdoor adventure always has risks. Andrea’s on picture left in blue. Her sons are in the center with Kate working on untying the rope swing, out of site. Atop the boulder sits Kristina, Morgan, & Talia. The fotografer is me. Monday 17 August 2009.

Kristina, Morgan, & Talia. Morgan, being the oldest child by a few years and a teenager, often felt left out of the socializing. She wasn’t as gung ho as Kate & the boys. We didn’t let Talia jump at this time.

Kate prepares to jump out on the rope as the boys look on.

W H O A !!!

Wheee! There she goes!

Triumph and glee

Whew!

One of the boys shows off his rope acrobatics.

Kate & friends, Crawford Pond

Studied masculine focus.

Serious competition

is fun!

Talia, Morgan, & Kristina are each making 3 very different faces. Kristina often mesmerizes the kids with great stories from her many travels abroad, adventures,  and misadventures. Right now, however, she just wants to eat cheese.

Kate is so chill and so confident atop the launch tower.

Kate the Olympian!

Back to it!

He’s such a gentleman, returning the rope to Kate. Our 5 kids got along well together. Andrea’s sons continued to be welcoming and helpful. They played together so well, and when they did quarrel, they worked it out amongst themselves for the most part. The only one who seemed sort of the odd person out was Morgan, who didn’t have anyone close to her age and was more interested in teenager stuff. Talia was, of course, the youngest, and sometimes she felt overpowered by the others. The two boys were also protective of her as sort of a temporary or short-term “little sister.” It did help they were all new and exciting people from opposite sides of the country. Also helped as being summertime dispelled any of the cabin fever associated with feeling snowed in during the winter. While we adults do the best we’re able to do with all the many life’s challenges we navigate, sometimes one has to step back and let each young person find themselves.

Kate. Suspended in motion for a moment in time. Graceful. Her innate recklessness tempered by careful movements done quickly with intention, instinct, and confidence. She’s in her prime element here during this time in her life.

Surrender & Control.

Her expression is timeless. Says it all across the years.

Morgan & Talia chatting with Andrea as she shoves off in her lake kayak.

Kristina, what in the world are you doing? Gargling? Chanting? Enjoying the blissful warmth of the Summer Sun? Regardless of any one thing or another, the Unstoppable Kristina, Goddess of Manifestation (hey, lookit, this trip!) is in Rapture here atop a big rock on the edge of Crawford Pond.

“Oh, William, William, William.” She enchants me with that look of hers. We’ve already been thru a lot together.

Paddling and swimming back across the lake towards the Little Red Cottage.

The worn down and vegetated geography of Maine’s topography, shredded and gouged out by glaciers during the last Ice Age, intrigues with its latticework of lakes & ponds, rivers and streams, islands, peninsulas, bogs, rocky forests, and natural causeways.

Andrea is wonderful with the kids. She’s on guard, engaged, present, and laughs easily.

Crawford Pond and the lay of the land.

Kristina taking time out to enjoy a little much needed solitude (I’m not too far off in a kayak as she swims off towards the others).

Large, orb weaver spiders rule under the eves of the cottage.

While not completely certain, I’m pretty sure these spiders are Larinioides sclopetarius, the Bridge Orb Weaver Spider or the Gray-Cross Spider. They originated in Europe and have spread across much of the Northern Hemisphere.

While solitary animals, they build their nests close to each other. They also prefer to build on structures such as bridges and homes and prefer being close to water. More insects that way.

Andrea checks out the orb-weavers. While she values them keeping down the mosquitoes and other flies, she doesn’t want them getting too close to people’s clothes or to the doorway. No one really wants to face plant into chubby little spider and her sticky wicky web.

Yay, another teenager! Morgan hangs with Andrea’s niece up visiting from Florida…or is she one of the neighbor’s daughters? I don’t recall, but I do remember the two of them hitting it off in the alpenglow of sunset.

Talia & the Kids

It’s On Golden Pond time.

Talia pulls a jolly Tater Tot face while Morgan deals with too much water up her nose.

Golden Crawford Pond

Moored canoe catches the edge of Maine alpenglow.

Lining up the boats below the Little Red Cottage.

The deck out into the pond from the shoreline just below the Little Red House. As I’ve sadly forgotten the names of Andrea’s sons, I wonder if any of the names carved here are their names.

Close neighbors or family members of Andrea and her sons’s? Don’t remember, but they brought over food to share for our picnic outside at the Little Red Cottage.

Sundown on Crawford Pond with the kids grouped up out in the lake with their floaties. 

Halcyon Days and Timeless Nights of a long ago Summer

“Let’s go hiking!” Kristina & I bustle off to Camden Hills State Park, and, eventually the Town & Harbor of Camden, Maine.

Fifteen year old Morgan was the only one of the kids to join us on our exploration. Andrea and the others stayed behind. Kate & Talia wanted to play poker with the boys & then go jump back in the lake.

Might attempt to scale that low mountain looming over the trees over there. We are in Camden Hills State Park, a local wilderness of forested hills around the town and harbor of Camden. Enough time has passed we’re unable to remember the names of the trails and local landmarks we explored. The maps & journals we had were lost in the subsequent 2010 house fire. So, did we hike up to Mt. Battie (780 ft. high)? Or did we make it atop the Maiden Cliffs at 800 feet? Or did we get to the summit of Mt. Megunticook (1,385 ft.)? Considering the amount of time we spent hiking, we clearly didn’t reach all three high points, nor do we recall seeing the giant white cross we read of later. Yes, I’m a bit of a geography nerd and a names of places geek, but none of us recall those names, and, yes, it’s OK. We had a great time anyway!

The trail beckons us deeper into Camden Hills, so off we go.

Morgan & Kristina, stepdaughter & stepmother. The day is hot and humid as they gaze down thru the trees at lakes below.

Love the mix of rocky hills, mixed forests, and scattered lakes & ponds here in Maine…& so close to the ocean, too!

Gazing out across Campden Hills. Not certain, but I think this is Megunticook Lake.

Kristina & Morgan

William & Kristina. Sometimes they make strange faces…!

William’s 50 years along in this time & place, and Kristina’s 41.

Everchanging body language and out of synch smiles as Morgan shoots these fotos along a trail in Camden Hills State Park.

It’s a beautiful day, these ol’ lovebirds move thru their own easy but sometimes challenging mating rituals, and truth is they’re both tired. They’ve been going going going while also in love with being in Maine.

Shared moments in time and space upon a hot, humid New England day. Pictures by Morgan.

The man all alone in nature, briefly.

Kristina gets behind the camera now as father & daughter step down onto the ledges.

Father & Daughter, 50 & 15 years along. Foto by Kristina.

The Big Picture

Everchanging faces…

Faces everchanging…

Faces tell stories…What are their stories here?

Upon the cliffs above Camden Town.

Kristina contemplates being hot & sweaty as she gazes across the gloriously expansive beauty of Camden Hills.

Prehistoric hot rocks.

My 15 year old daughter observing their eccentric Dad & Stepmom with, um, amusement.

William Dudley in his element. Being a Bass.

Uh-Oh, what, what is this fool doing now?

Soaking up life, love, and UV radiation like an ol’ crazy parent!

It’s the wind. Aye, the wind blew off his cap, right off his silly head, right off into the grass where gazillions of ticks abide.

Kristina gets in on the action, too. Had to crop this picture quite a bit as sweaty, hot Kristina takes a wind bath in the breeze. No bloody wee tickies on her!

How bout dem rocks!?!

Kristina in Harbor Park standing before Camden Harbor.

Gaze of a Scorpio at her Taurus.

Camden Harbor, Maine.

Although more of a river man, especially whitewater, I love boats of all kinds and the sensation of moving thru water in various states of motion and stillness. As the Water Rat declared to the Mole in Kenneth Grahame’s 1908 classic, The Wind in the Willows, “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolute nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”

Kristina points to where she thinks we were at earlier that day, Mt. Battie. At first we’re certain. Fifteen years later, not so sure. And, it’s OK. We had a grand time exploring what some have called a “mini-Acadia” and this town a “mini-Bar Harbor.”

Town of Camden below the Hills. The large building in the center is the Campden Public Library in Harbor Park.

Sea kayakers coming in from the bay. We don’t know them. Their tired fun and colorful gear upon the harbor waters caught our attention. In some ways, a snapshot in time of Earth Humans enjoying life in one part of early 21st Century America.

Summer colors of Camden Town.

Crab pots & petunias.

Although on opposite sides of the continent, much of Maine reminds us so much of Washington. Here Camden Harbor narrows before opening into Penobscot Bay.

Morgan (now Dylan) snaps a picture of this married couple having a little dockside squabble.

Do we look romantic yet? Or just frumpy, chubby, and fulla roosters chasing chickens?

Sunglasses on & clothes all twisty & bunchy, LOL!

Sunglasses off! With sweaty clothes still all bunchy & twisty! See, I had one of those so-called “Dad bod” long before Dad bodies became a meme-thang.

William & Kristina, August 2009. Foto by Morgan.

Camden Harbor.

The Northerners who fought for the Union during the Civil War got it right: what the Southern states engaged in was rebellion, a great rebellion that nearly shattered the United States into weak fragments. As a Southerner who relocated to the Northwest, I grew up with the American Civil War being labeled the War of Northern Aggression, an erroneous label as the Southern states clearly started this war. Southern secessionists also called our most uncivil war the War Between the States caused by Federal infringement on States Rights. Thing is, the only states right in question was the right of humans to own other humans as chattel slaves based upon obsolete, unscientific Euro-American White notions of race. Those who fought for or otherwise supported the Southern Confederacy were traitors to the United States of America and its constitutional democratic republic. Often forgotten are the facts many Southerners at the time opposed secession, many opposed slavery, and some even fought for the Union. Some in the North fought for the Confederacy as well. Those in the Border States fought each other as neighbors shot neighbors and set their homes and farms afire. The U.S. Civil War also rippled over into Native American tribes and into Black Americans themselves. It was a ferocious and bloody civil war, and these Northern troops fought on the right side of History. This statue stands in Harbor Park near the Camden Public Library.

Yes, these citizens of Maine fought on the right side of History.

The flowers of late Summer around the memorial to the men of Camden who died in the American Civil War.

A hornet’s nest of petals.

Made me smile, too, as I grew up on a working diary farm in rural Virginia. We’re also above the steep, narrow, late-summer, low-water cascades of the Megunticook River where it drops into Camden Harbor.

Looking out past Camden Harbor to Penobscot Bay in the Gulf of Maine, all part of the North Atlantic Ocean.

Camden Public Library and its gazebo, Harbor Park, Camden, Maine.

Morgan & I continue to take turns shooting fotos of flowers, leaves, & old buildings in Harbor Park.

Japanese beetles (Popillia japonica), an invasive species of scarabs originally from Japan, attacking roses in the park.

Ferocious skeletonization of rose shrubbery by these otherwise beautiful Japanese scarabs.

Life in Camden revolves around water, even if one lives up in the Hills.

William poses with a statue of the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950) in the park.

Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote her first poem of note while in Camden High School, winning an award there at age 15. She won numerous awards, especially after moving to New York, including the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923 and the Frost Medal for American Poetry in 1943.

She went from a rustic seaport in Maine to the wild life of a Bohemian bisexual in Greenwich Village to a quiet life of trauma, addiction, and passionate marriage in rural, small-town upstate New York.

Another local mystery…

The Golden Rooster…cannot lay any golden eggs.

Meanwhile the married couple of the familymoon are all pooped out here in Harbor Park.

More scenes from around Harbor Park in Camden Town.

Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) in Maine. The plant is native across Eastern & Central North America and ranges from Eastern Canada down into Guatemala. The plant is mildly toxic with sharp calcium oxide crystals in the sap. Doesn’t really bother me, tho I know people who are sensitive to it. Virginia Creeper is, however, nothing on the scale of far more toxic Poison Oak, Poison Ivy, and Poison Sumac. In Autumn the plant turns vivid shades of red, scarlet, & purple.

Views within and around Harbor Park.

Time to say goodbye to the Camden area including its town, its harbor, parks, streams, the bay, its welcoming people, and the mountainous old hills around the town. Back to the Little Red Cottage on Crawford Pond we go!

See Talia’s cute little face down in the lower left corner? We’ve stopped at the famous Penobscot Narrows Suspension Bridge and Observatory.

Taller than New York’s Statue of Liberty and designed to ride out severe storms both summer and winter, this is the highest public bridge observatory on Earth at this point in time. Elevators take people about 420 feet up. It’s our first stop on our journey to Acadia National Park, and while we wanted to go up into it, realized doing so would take too much time away from our primary destination. Another trip to Maine someday, perhaps.

Talia checking out her hand. Maybe there’s a long ago owie to grimace over. Or she’s fixated on a toy Medieval soldier in red hidden in her palm. A note on the color pink: At this time, pink was Talia’s favorite color. It was also her Mom’s least favorite color. The rest of us had fun with these contradictions.

The mighty Penobscot River pushes on thru late summer days to the ocean.

Penobscot Blue…

We’re all captivated by what appears to be a human-operated jetplane transecting the Sun as if our star is about to bifurcate. What a strange, intriguing site early this Wednesday morning in the skies above the Penobscot Narrows.

Something seems off, however, as the jet airplane doesn’t quite look like an airplane. So I begin to zoom in.

So what is this? The image is now severely cropped. Doesn’t look recognizable. Nor does it behave at all with any of the 5 Observables unique to Non-Human Intelligence UFOs/UAPs. It behaves like a jetplane more than anything else, but it looks like a broken up rocket. Hmnn. Weird, yes? Don’t recall the sound either. Directly north of us, however, is Bangor International Airport with neighboring Bangor Air National Guard Base. In-flight refueling with large tanker craft occurs out of Bangor ANG as well.

Further cropping makes whatever it is look like a roaring, broken wreck with rocket engines blasting at full throttle. Perhaps the jetplane is turned on an old angle to us down on the ground. Or maybe refueling is taking place. I bet it’s human aircraft out of Bangor. Sure looks strange, tho.

Mesmerized by clouds.

The high cables of the Penobscot Narrows Bridge remind me of a gigantic harp.

Time to wrap up here at the Penobscot Narrows and drive on further north and northeast to Acadia National Park.

In about 40 minutes we were on the edge of Mount Desert Island and numerous smaller islands and peninsulas. The largest portions of Acadia National Park lay within Mt. Desert Island.

Kate & Talia at a trailhead in Acadia National Park. The family behind them is up from New Jersey.

With rugged seashores, rocky cliffs, and wild ocean all around me, I find myself fascinated with flowers. Numerous species of goldenrods abound. These are a few sprouting on the side of the road in Maine near the trailhead.

Talia is enamored with this little red toy soldier, a Medieval knight wielding flail and shield in combat in some forgotten war fought centuries ago. That’s me. Don’t recall what Talia’s thoughts were or where she found the toy. Did it come from the Little Red Cottage? Belonged to Andrea’s sons? Gifted to her by one of the kids from New Jersey running around the parking lot at the trail head? Or was it left behind upon this rock and Talia chose to receive this fas a gift rom the Universe and claim it?

Kathryn & Talia. Kate’s arms & legs are covered with inflamed mosquito bites, and Talia holds the red and golden toy knight in her hands. She has bug-bitten legs and arms, too.

This.

Fighting solo with flail & shield in the palm of a 7 year old girl with an inquisitive imagination.

Goldenrod and staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina) at the trail head.

Fascinated by the sky, water, and vegetation of coastal Maine.

Old worn down mountains on Mt. Desert Isle. The Acadian Mountains here are part of the greater Appalachian range stretching from Northern Alabama up into the Canadian Maritimes. Acadia is where these old, rugged, prehistoric peaks run down into the Atlantic Ocean.

Staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina) is widespread here.

We headed on down into Seal Harbor.

Seal Harbor. The thin sliver of seashore left of center is Seal Harbor Beach. There are a number of inns, hotels, and museums in the town of Seal Harbor. Don’t know the name of the buildings perched above those rocky cliffs. The main Seal Harbor lays on the other side of the little peninsula before us.

Exploring the seashore around Seal Harbor.

Daddy William with Kate & Talia upon the cliffs around the various little inlets of Seal Harbor, Maine.

Morgan probably shot these images. She took many fotos here. Sometimes Kate, Talia, & Kristin did, too, but not as much as me or Morgan.

These little, fortress-like coves, some with shallow caves and narrow chutes, intrigued us with their danger, mystery, and ruggedness.

Morgan & I hang back a bit and take pictures as we follow Talia, Kate, & Kristina down to water’s edge.

Morgan at 15, Seal Harbor, Acadia National Park, Maine.

We discover a cave! And the lovely aroma of rotting seaweed!

Love this place! We were in awe how similar the Maine coast was to our Washington’s…and yet so different.

A rocky tidal pool pit isolated among the cliffs. The odd-shaped brown stone in the water reminded us of a little whale.

Reminds us a little bit of a “holiday castle.”

The view from the outside of the sea cave others were in.

Inside the sea cave. Looking small is my then-wife and two of our daughters. Dylan decides not to go in as her golden sandals are getting trashed upon slimy beds of seaweed, jagged stone, and pools of salty ocean water. We’re all so impressed with this cave.

Morgan wears her golden sandals where none have likely trodden such footwear before.

Hmnnn…

Intrigued by tidal currents below the entrance to the cave.

Time to get outa here. Talia, however, is diligently focused upon some fascinating oddity up there in the cave.

Come on, guys! Deep down I’m proud of Talia’s calm, focused inquisitiveness. Each child has their own set of superpowers.

Now I’m the last one out as I shoot fotos of Kristina helping “TaTa” out as Kate & Morgan await. It’s slippery & stinky!

As everyone wanted to go swimming, I drove everyone further up the coastline of Mt. Desert Island passed a number of scenic sites and hiking trails to Acadia National Park’s famous Sand Beach. It’s small, often crowded, protected, and boasts a list of quirky geological and hydrological wonders. The historian and futurist in me wonders what ever happened to all of these individuals here, all unique human beings, all strangers, all here to explore and have fun. The melancholy part of my psyche understands some of these people aren’t even around any longer as I write these words some 15 years later, tho I’ll wager most of them probably still are. Hope they all enjoyed healthy, productive lives of more joy than sorrow. What do you reflect upon during quiet moments in the middle of joyous pandemonium? 

Hole digging in the soft, wet sand is quite popular with the little bitties. The high water table makes it safe to dig as one can’t make it too deep. So many fellow Earth Humans! Some even perch up high on the cliffs.

Usually am pretty shy taking fotos of strangers in public places, but feel somewhat liberated by the crowds. I’ve great respect for privacy, tho, to be clear, no respect whatsoever for secrecy. Such is life. Here I enjoy people watching as an ambivert with a camera.

Talia doesn’t waste a minute. After jumping into her swimsuit, she launches into an excavation.

Being a digging mammal is hard work!

Kate, Kristina, & Morgan stride out into the deep blue sea, Woo HOO!

YeOW it’s COLD, you guys! Well, it is the NORTH Atlantic off the coast of New England. Talia doesn’t even bother. She’s a Digger Girl!

Kate grins at life despite all her mosquito bites.

Others feel the refreshing chill as Kristina & Morgan chat further out in the water on upper picture right.

First held my breath as I watched people scramble up and down those cliffs, and no one fell. Not today. In fact the young woman in the center is going down in proper mountaineer fashion, knees bent and leaning slightly forward at the waste, practicing what we mountaineers call, “Keep yer nose over yer toes. Nose over toes.” Whether she just naturally figured it out or already learned it from climbing or skiing remains unknown, and that’s OK.

Talia and two other girls work together to dig this hole. She’s proud. Talia also told us later that those fellow little Digger Girls did not speak English or Spanish. She didn’t know what they spoke, and she didn’t ask. Nor did it matter. Sometimes body language and the camaraderie of teamwork breaks thru such sociocultural barriers.

This big stone block reminds me somewhat of the Great Pyramids of Giza. Look at all the fractures from the battering of the elements.

We went down the coast a short distance to another section of Acadia National Park to explore where the mountains come down into the sea to break apart. Don’t recall except close to Sand Beach. Perhaps twas Great Head or Otter Point. The roads ran in one-way loops circling off to reconnect with other local roadways.

Those guys! Strangers together.

Those guys again, enjoying being out on the edges of rock, water, & sky.

The coast of Acadia National Park and Maine in general is dotted with little islands, islets, and reefs. All those colored floats bobbing out there are tethered to the lobster pots they mark. 

Those guys again. Being their own little Kings of the Hill out at the point.

Scenes along the point and around the heads.

Clouds & Sky & the Sun & lots of syfy Lens Flare

These trolley bused many tourists around the Park to help reduce traffic congestion. Reminds me a little bit of the old trolley trains back in Seattle.

Studying the different layers of botanical life on our walk back up to the car.

The ground is alive. Earth’s biosphere extends deep into the soil and far down in the crust, too.

Here we pause to check out the views from higher up, and I jump into, “Hey, let me shoot a few pictures of y’all, y’all!” L2R: Kate, Kristina, Morgan, & Talia.

Sea kayakers cruise by the cliffs below.

Morgan & Talia, two sisters who grew up together & yet 8 years apart in age.

All of my kids went thru sticking-out-tongues phases, LOL

And all sisterly smiles sometimes, too!

Morgan must’ve snapped this foto of Talia & Kate as I’m “cut off” in the edge of the picture.

Talia

Five-hand pentagram stars from our blended family of five.

All five of us making our family pentagram star here.

Talia & Kristina

Kate

Kate & Talia

DaDa posing for the camera, LOL

Whoa, Godzilla!

Blinded by sunshine…

As the camera came back to me, Kate & Morgan engage is sisterly fun.

Funny Faces!

After leaving the seashore cliffs, we stopped along the shores of an old mountain lake.

Forests of Acadia in mid-afternoon.

We drove up to one of the scenic mountain tops within the park overlooking water, islands, towns, and sky.

Don’t recall the name of this mountain. Studying a map 15 years after the journey leaves me wondering which one of many peaks we explored the summit of. It’s not Cadillac Mountain, tho. I do wonder whatever happened to all of the individual people here, and what lives they lived. The joy of so much life also evokes a strange sort of melancholic awe.

William & Kristina. Sometimes love is like life; it finds a way, even if the way love looks changes day to day regardless of desires and expectations.

We continue to explore the top of the world from here.

Our family marveled at the surround views. We  found the mix of islands and mountains and seashore cliffs and lakes similar to the State of Washington and the Province of British Columbia, especially in the Gulf and San Juan Islands in the Salish Sea.

Noticed Kate’s hair in the mid-afternoon sunshine.

Kate, age 10 and a half.

We began to head back to Andrea’s car. Been going since early, early in the morning. We were hungry and tired of snacks. Looked forward to delicious meals down in the resort seaside town of Bar Harbor.

Down in Bar Harbor, Maine, a beautiful little city surrounded by Acadia National Park.

Have been fascinated by sailing ships ever since a boy, and haven’t spent enough time on them. Amazing what humans did with sailing vessels for centuries.

Kate & Talia walk under and around the statue of the whale.

I think we ended up eating at this restaurant on the docks.

More scenes around Bar Harbor dockside…

Alpenglow Kate

What surprises me is someone took this foto. Wasn’t me as I’m the one sitting across from the picture-taker. We had luscious lobster & crab seafood dinner, except for Talia as she is severely allergic to shellfish as well as all invertebrates as far as we know. Twas a yummilicious mess! And no one took any pictures of any of those meals. Must’ve been a bit too hungry, eh?

Kate making crustacean faces!

Talia, our Li’l Dancing Butterfly, playing around as if performing in The Little Mermaid.

INSERT BLACK CHAIN KEY – FILL DON’T SPILL, or it’s Robbie the Robot incognito in Maine.

Wandering around the docks of Bar Harbor, and also preparing to head back to Andrea’s Little Red Cottage.

Time to say goodbye to Bar Harbor and hit the road. One of my kids took this foto as I’m the driver. Tired, sleepy, perhaps even a little hallucinatory?

Our drive back was a blur of lights in the darkness. We stopped briefly at the Penobscot Narrows to stretch our legs and play with the camera.

The Penobscot Narrows Bridge and Observatory is an impressive sight even for tired eyes at night. This innovative engineering marvel stretches across one of Maine’s mightiest rivers for 646+ meters or 2,120 feet. It’s tallest point is 136 meters or 447 feet high, and it opened near the end of December 2006, about 2 and a half years before our visit to Maine.

Living the Edge!

Usually love seeing the flag of our Union, the USA. People who know me are often surprised by my patriotism, especially as I advocate human interdependence and a united democratic world republic. Yes, I do love my country. It is because of this I am not a nationalist and am all too aware of America’s history of invasion, conquest, slavery, genocide, corporacratic predatory capitalism, environmental destruction, the ongoing coverup of UFOs & NHIs, and an out-of-site-out-of-mind prison system rank with rampant abuse. My love of country engenders my love of our Planet Earth and of our Solarian Star System. My love of country empowers me to harshly criticize unethical and criminal actions done by those in power and by those out of power who don’t care. We must balance our individual liberties with our social responsibilities in a never-ending dance, and as long as we can dance and debate without violence, we’ll be OK. We’ll be better than OK.

Off we go across this big bridge.

Inside looking out.

Out on the other side.

We 5 familymooners split up and piled into two cars with Andrea, her 2 sons, and her sister. We left Crawford Pond, and rolled into Port Clyde sometime between 6:00 and 6:30 in the morning. Another long day of travel and adventure begins!

Ferry reservations for the 1.5 to 2 hour crossing are required. Walk-ons only. We’re already aboard and motoring out around the bend. Looks like a mansion hidden up in the trees and thus protected from the storms.

What’s it like to live here on the coast of Downeast Maine?

Passenger Ferry’s coming around to sail on out of the harbor and out to sea.

Kate’s calmly excited! The woman in pink later smiled in amusement at my middle child’s antics.

Monhegan Island lays about 12 miles or about 19 and a half kilometers out in the Atlantic from Port Clyde, its closest port. The islands and the islets around it are within Lincoln County. No visitor cars allowed. The U.S. Federal Government designated Monhegan as a National Natural Landmark (NNL) in 1966. NNLs are part of and are managed by the U.S. National Park Service.

A casual scene in America in August 2009. What do you notice? Few people are staring at smartfones. They’re there, but smartfones haven’t yet dominated the human technosphere. Here our fellow humans are mostly engaged in conversations with one another and gazing out across the sea at all the incredible scenery.

Smartfones and their resulting technoeuphoria were, however, already on the way. Here Andrea is on her flipfone (remember flipfones?), and Kristina’s staring at her smartfone. I don’t recall what brand & model it was. Texting was beginning to take off, and cellfones had real buttons to tap and push.

“Hey, William…” my wife at this time is telling me something as I take her picture. I listened to her, but don’t recall what we spoke about.

Smiles!

These two friends have come a long ways in a short time since first meeting amid giant redwoods and sequoias in Northern California.

Sailing closer and closer to Monhegan Island…

…and still so far away.

Speaking and Listening

We approach Monhegan Island and the rocks and small islands around the harbor of Monhegan Town. They had names such as Manana Island, Smutty Nose, and the Inner and Outer Duck Rocks. The U.S. Coast Guard had a station on Manana across the small harbor from the main town. They’re all part of Maine’s Lincoln County, too.

Our ferry pulled in closer and closer…

Manana Island.

Soon we dock at Monhegan.

We all fell in love with Monhegan immediately; the harbor, the town, and its island. The combination of natural beauty, remoteness, and isolation enchanted us. Monhegan’s New England island culture charmed us as well, especially with its blend of arts and crafts, construction, the tourist industry, and anchored by fishermen and lobstermen. Numerous artists from a variety of disciplines came here to get away and focus on their creative projects. Outsiders are not allowed to bring motor vehicles onto the island, altho a small number of the locals who live there may have a car or a truck or a dirt bike. Would imagine the trucks of construction and repair crews as well as emergency vehicles are exempt.

We rambled around the town, and deep down we were … hungry! LOL

Kids found the tree! Apparently it’s a locally famous tree.

Andrea’s sister and aunt to the boys enjoying using the camera on her cellfone.

After lunch we march off to hike out of town thru the forest towards the eastern seashore cliffs. It’s a short hike.

Bit of a drop off here.

White Head? or Black Head? Don’t recall even after perusing a map. We’re looking north, tho. We can see people clambering about atop the head way over there, too.

Kristina & Andrea

Hamming it up for the cameras and being silly, LOL

The trail along the cliffs led up with this little scramble up a broken chimney of sorts, and the kids loved it! Andrea’s sister’s already up top with another daytripper.

We were still pretty close to the edge of the cliffs, too.

Mesmerized by the vastness of the ocean and the sky of our planet as I stood on a little island in the sea.

The kids wanted my attention back from the edge of the cliff. Katie wanted to pose for me as she likes to climb.

Katie Cakes at play.

Gazing out across the Atlantic Ocean to the East.

Thirsty.

Edge of the Forest where the Little People are rumored to live.

...somewhere…back in there…

Edges

Morgan took this foto & some of the others, too, as the rest of us scrambled down as we zigzagged up & down over ledges & rocks.

My oldest child takes a picture of the rest of us Familymooners scrambling down.

We’re way down in the far lower lefthand side of the foto. We’re on a small, rugged island and at the same time feel dwarfed by the vastness of ocean, sky, and the space beyond.

What’s going on over at the turquoise-colored umbrella?

Evocative of old ruins from some fantasy, sword & sorcery, blood & sandals movie.

The umbrella in the crevice…what’s down in there?

One of the heads jutting out into the sea.

La bumbershoot!

And there they sit…an artist sketching & painting the edge of the world in the shade of an umbrella upon a gloriously sunny afternoon on an island in Maine.

In the middle, plants find ways to grow amidst rock.

Galls, tumor-like growth on trees where life collides. They have several causes, including fungi, bacteria, insects, & kinetic trauma. These factors stimulate cellular overgrowth similar to cancer. Over time, the galls can greatly weaken the affected trees.

The sea dominates even back from the water.

My family & new friends & curious strangers all mix together on the edge at the edge of the island.

The patterns of these rocks tantalize us. Reminded me of ancient ruins from some forgotten empire’s long lost city. These are all natural geological formations eroded by water and weather and sun. Easy to see how in some cases such can be wondered if actual ruins. And in a few rare cases maybe they are. Just not here. Beautiful, tho.

Patterns of Imagination

Watching the tides pull out..

Kristina, Talia, & one of Andrea’s sons watch the tides ebb and flow below…

Lined up watching the tides roll on out…

And roll back in over the rocks with a roar.

The water explodes below their feet. L2R: Kristina holds Talia as Katie sits between Andrea’s sons. Morgan & I stand back with Andrea & her sister and shoot fotos.

Two sisters in Maine from elsewhere.

Gnarly old Sentinel against the storms.

Morgan heads back thru the brush into the forest.

The edge of Monhegan Town on the other side of the island. We have to pass thru what’s called the Cathedral Woods to get there.

The amazing Kristina

Each time we enter the woods, we end up above another sea cliff. Then our little gang pushes on around another rocky cliff towards the forest.

One proud daddy, romantic fool, & silly adventurer.

In love & glad to pull off this familymoon together. And, gosh, poofy-poof hat hair! Still pretty luscious for being halfway to one hundred years!

We were all surprised and delighted to discover these little miniature forest craft abodes. Turns out they’re what’s called Fairy Houses, and they are found all along the hiking trail here thru the Cathedral Woods. That’s Kristina’s right foot, by the way.

Local folk artists and craftspeople had started this tradition back in the day. As the Cathedral Woods are within private land, there are signs up about not disturbing the local nature. The Fairy Houses themselves have generated a bit of controversy. Some say it’s bad for the environment as it’s gotten out of control. Signs are posted asking visitors not to build anymore as they remove too much bark from the trees, pull up too many stones, and rip up too much moss to make them. The environmental impact is harsher where life is more fragile. Sometimes thoughtless people will tear the crafted little houses apart. Many hikers, however, find them irresistible. We did, too, but didn’t construct or destroy any.

There were so many Fairy Houses built along this trail, often in clever little natural places such as the corners between the roots of a tree or between stones and so forth. It takes time & patience to gather up and carefully place all of those tiny little twigs, cones, sticks, leaves, moss, and stones.

A heavy conversation?

Talia’s enamored and enchanted by these little Fairy Houses and wanted for us to stop so she could make some, too. We had to push on, tho.

Some of these were simple affairs…

Some reminded us of temples rather than houses.

Kristina in front of one with an unusual elevated blockhouse design.

Others were a bit more … puzzling.

Or more hidden in the greenery.

What’s over in there?

A stick insect-type fairy camouflaging itself as twigs and branches?

Outer Space, Inner Space

Passing out of the Cathedral Woods and back into Monhegan Town.

We try to imagine ourselves living here on a beautiful coastal island yet so far off the mainland. What would we do for a living?

We’re all enchanted by the garden flowers and the ambiance of Monhegan.

Reentering the town felt strange, like we wanted to respect the locals’ privacy and were also so darn curious and enthralled with so much here.

Well, this stone creature sculpture stopped us in our tracks…

Flowers of August

..and no flowers in August.

Views across fields and marshes from the dirt road back into Monhegan Town.

Talia on the road back into town.

Andrea & I walking back, too. Since I’m in the picture, someone else is taking these pictures, whom I don’t recall.

We found the walk in mesmerizing. On the lower left side a man in a green shirt paints a scene from everyday nature. Monhegan Island is a popular artist retreat with a strong community of creatives. Hope it still is.

Loved these lush, overgrown gardens.

Open windows, fresh sea air, and the smell of freshly mowed grass and wild herbs…

When cuteness becomes art…LOL!

Along the local waterfront…

Backdoors to lifetimes of stories…

Bridges to Terabithia are everywhere from the mind to the land to the soul…

Rambling thru town. August 2009 C.E. It’s a time in place & history human beings often walked around without big weapons strapped to their persons for fear of bandits and warlords ambushing travelers including pilgrims, merchants, & refugees along country roads and forest paths. Many American citizens kept guns and knives at home, but few carried them around for personal self-defense as people once did in earlier times and in other places. And now, a decade and a half later, we seem to be writing a different story in our now deeply divided nation-state.

The road beckons …

… and so does the sky.

Artifacts

Looking around the town from the church yard…

Fellow tourists exploring the town. The locals are all working. Or, hmn, maybe they’re locals and I’m wrong…?

One of Andrea’s boys waits for us to gather up and go!

He points the way…or rather at what others are doing. Dad/William (me) on foto left.

Passing by where people live, work, play, & visit.

Sad to leave, a 12 mile journey back across the water to Port Clyde awaits, but also wanting to get on back “home” to the Little Red Cottage.

Yep, time to go.

Our ferry boat eases on out of the harbor thru a ring of little islands and sea rocks.

Boat begins to pick up speed as we head on out further into the ocean.

Looking back … What ran down out of those pipes into the sea?

The coast seems so far away…

We slowly say good bye in different ways…

Seals cluster upon the rocks among the birds.

Seals & Birds

Oil on the water. Spilled and leaked fuel. So much of it dispersed across the surface of the sea. Can’t help but feel sad and alarmed. What’s the next step here?

Eventually we arrive at Port Clyde and dock. Next to our boat, water and air and gravity helped twist floating vegetation into interesting patterns reminding me of those pinwheels and kites of childhood.

The energetic excitement of the first few days has turned with the shortening days to a mellow sadness, sad we Familymooners will soon leave to go home when we already feel at home here at Crawford Pond. So we enjoy the day and the time we have left in the here-now of present moments. Here my wife and her good friend paddle one last time together out on the lake. We’re forever grateful to Andrea and her sons for sharing their Little Red Cottage and a week out of their busy lives with us Washingtonians.

Love gazing out across the lake. Late morning on Crawford Pond. We noticed clouds are moving in and learned a hurricane may be on the way.

It may be late August in the year 2009, and we still have about a month of Summer left before the first day of Autumn.

Kristina and Andrea head in to the little boat landing below the cottage.

Talking business… coaching… marketing… systems and organizations… 

Talking relationships… everything’s related… presence

Looking up from the boat landing at the Little Red Cottage. All of us in our own separate way bid our farewells to this beloved place here. And goodbye to Munchkin the little one-eyed dog! Later in the evening we shared a brief, private good-bye ritual. Hoped to return, altho at the time realized it may be years before we could return. And then time passed, and our relationships changed yet again. Love this place.

BOOM! We stumble upon remnants of the Berlin Wall from the Cold War. Germans from both sides of the Wall tore it down in 1989 as the Soviet Empire fell apart. The end of the Cold War heralded a promise of world peace, more integrated economies, and greater global unity. Many thought these new times represented an end to history, a coming transformation of the United Nations as humanity moved closer to the so-called Star Trek model of a peaceful, united Planet Earth where environmental and economic problems had been addressed. Ah! Unfortunately these dreams faded with never-ending wars across the Middle East and Central/South Asia and parts of Africa that kept drawing other countries into their vortexes while rippling out waves of terrorism and instability.

Life goes on for the living, and so it does. We move on to explore more of Olde Portland. Morgan’s on foto right, her torso out of the image, still wearing those golden sandals. She’s worn those sandals everywhere from piles of slimy seaweed to sandy beaches to dusty trails to posh seafood restaurants Down East.

Ice cream is a big deal for us, LOL, especially local businesses.

Beals Famous Old Fashioned Super Premium Ice Cream was started by entrepreneur Roy Beal in Gorham, Maine, and was then bought by the Malia family in 1988. It’s since opened more stores, and we loved what we ate in Portland.

Another day in America. It’s Saturday the 22nd of August 2009 C.E.

We continue to explore the streets and alleyways and little shops and cafes of Portland, Maine.

We keep coming back to ice cream.

Yes, we want ice cream!

And eat different colors all day!

We’d heard reports of faraway hurricanes crashing their way up the coast.

Hurricanes aren’t just a violent pinwheel of clouds around an eye. They spin off bands of thunderstorms and tornadoes, cast up surging walls of water, cast down barrages of rain, trees, landslides, and floods far from the main cyclone itself. Cannot imagine one lasting for centuries like Jupiter’s Great Red Spot.

What is it about urban alleys and the juxtaposition of old and new buildings?

We could feel the storm out there somewhere…

We couldn’t see any storm, however, not yet, so we were more focused on enjoying the time we had left in Maine.

Cafe still life in motion

Building’s about to fall over on top of us…but doesn’t, Lol.

Humans doing people thangs.

Street life in Portland one day in late August. Kristina’s in the hat lower left corner of the foto.

We “Ride the Duck!” & launch into the harbor aboard an amphibious bus called a duck boat. We feel so bizarre we laugh at ourselves. Why? Because there are duck boat tours in our hometown of Seattle, too! And none of us, not a single one of us 5 Familymooners would ever allow ourselves to get caught dead or alive bouncing up and down amidst a quacking mob in a “Ride the Duck!” tour in our hometown. Even so, it was about an hour long, full of history as well as silliness, and we had a good time.

At the same time we felt sad about leaving Maine. We had such an awesome time! Yet we also were ready to get on home, especially with a hurricane on the way.

Kristina & Talia “Ride the Duck!”

Kathryn

Morgan (who goes by Dylan these days)

The duck trundles around the harbor & bay around the waterfront of Portland, Maine.

After an hour of cruising across the water, we glide on back to land.

After the duck ride, we stopped by a cemetery. I think one of my daughters made some comment like, “Why are we here? There’s a whole lotta old dead people out there!”

For me graveyards and cemeteries are more than just nostalgic remembrance of dead family and friends. They are time capsules rich in human history, capturing slices of time and place. They remind us of our very impermanence in people’s efforts to be remembered forever. Here the grass and weeds grow wild, tombstones totter, and carved letters blur smooth. As humans have fewer and fewer and even zero children these days, many lines have all died out without any remaining offspring left to remember the stories of their ancestors. There are graves here so old they date back to when Maine was part of Colonial Massachusetts under British rule.

We’re at the famous old Eastern Cemetery in Portland. British Colonials established it back in 1668. By the way, Maine remained part of Massachusetts until it broke away to become its own state in 1820 following a 35 year long quarrel over the abolition of slavery. The 1820 Missouri Compromise required an even number of free and slave states. While Massachusetts was a Federalist Party stronghold, what became Maine was the bastion of local semi-autonomous townships and once-landless farmers who moved there after the American Revolution. The majority of Mainers back then supported the Democrat-Republican Party with its mix of liberalism, ruralism, decentralization, and fierce abolitionism.

Graves of people who once lived across the past 341 years of time here.

The Portland Observatory was built atop Munjoy Hill in 1807. It is the last surviving maritime signal tower in the USA. In 2006, three years before our visit, it was designated as both a National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark and a National Historic Landmark. We didn’t have enough time to go inside.

One of our last stops on our way to being dropped off at the airport. Portland is edged by many shoreline parks and the deep waters of its harbors are often filled with both recreational boats and commercial shipping.

Goodbye, Maine

A blur of good memories already…

After two days of traveling with a hurricane in the middle, we Familymooners finally arrive back home to our Yellow Dragonfly House in Seattle, Washington. Don’t remember who chalked out this jolly fun Welcome Home sign for us.

Kristina jumps back into building her organizational development and coaching business. Late August 2009.

Talia warms herself in front of the heat vent at home during one morning in early November 2009.

Kate (now Kathryn), wearing orange and black,  punches thru the blue to take the ball away. She captures the ball, boots it away, and soon her team scores. Eventually Kate & her team win their soccer game. Green Lake Park, Seattle. Ironically, the name of  Kate’s team, despite their orange shirts, is the Blue Angels, part of the Woodland Soccer Club, itself part of a citywide Seattle Youth Soccer Association. 

Morgan (now Dylan) doing something with a broken mermaid holiday ornament. Yellow Dragonfly House in the SouZoo/Upper Fremont area of Seattle. Mid-September 2009.

William Dudley relaxes at Yellow Dragonfly House after working a long stretch at the Downtown Seattle REI store, mid-November 2009. Unfortunately we would move out shortly before that Christmas as the Great Recession ground on and on. Then the house we moved into burned down in March of the following year, and the next house was caught in the edge of a large natural gas explosion a year later. Life goes on, however, for us the living.

“Home” developed new and different meanings for us, and we were glad to be back in the Great Pacific Northwest regardless.

The Nikon D40 these pictures were salvaged from. Found my camera digging thru the rubbish of the burned ruins. Cracked it open to retrieve the memory card.

Found my camera by happenstance on Saturday 17 July 2010, nearly 4 months after our home burned down on Saturday 20 March 2010. Took the memory card into Glazer’s Cameras in Seattle where the generous staff recovered the missing fotos for us.