[Here in the Blue Ridge, I am thinking of the Maine coast this morning, where our family lived for 27 years. I'm thinking of Maine because, here, it is cold this morning--about 18 degrees--and it is going to snow in the next day or so. I'm thinking of Maine because when it snowed in Maine, our children and I skied regularly, and also because our son Sam and I have just returned this week from a Special Olympics ski meet in the North Carolina mountains, near Blowing Rock.
[This was Sam's and my third year at this invitational meet, along with four other Virginia skiers, a smaller Virginia contingent than usual. I was pleased for Sam that he duplicated his success from last year--he took a silver medal in slalom, which was particularly impressive because the snow was difficult to ski, being wet, and warm and slushy.
[I'm also thinking of Maine because Channa and I have been married a long time, and I mostly lived on the Maine coast when I was courting her. Takes me back....
[Here's a piece I originally posted in 2014.]
Mainer Potatoes, Fire Baked
Recipe by Dikkon Eberhart
1 13’ Whitehall Pulling Boat, with anchor
1 match – just 1
coupla potatoes and a chunk of butter; salt
good heavy knife
Mise en scene:
Don’t burn your fingers when you grub the potatoes from the ash, open them, and, while they drip with butter, you eat them in the dark.
Pour water on the coals until they are really out. Toss everything into the boat. Drag the boat down the beach to the sea. Wade out beside her and pull her farther until she’s afloat. Stare off for a time at the black horizon.
What if I ask her?
Maybe I’ll dare.