On the Road is a weekday feature spotlighting reader photo submissions.
From the exotic to the familiar, whether you’re traveling or in your own backyard, we would love to see the world through your eyes.
JanieM
A miscellaneous set, each with its own bit of story.
Or the septic tank cover on a misty frosty morning.
The retaining wall out side the milk storage room of the old barn.
Old stone is everywhere in Maine. You can’t stick a shovel in the ground without finding rocks, large and small, or ledge (a.k.a. bedrock), which is never far below the surface.
I once heard a talk on NPR about the many young men from Maine who went off to fight in the Civil War and never came back. Some of them, of course, lost their lives. But many others were lured away by seeing places that actually had several feet of topsoil to farm.
When my new house was built in 1995, we had to have a crew blast some ledge where the basement would be. My then-ten-year-old son was excited to be allowed to push the plunger, but a little deflated at the non-event that was the actual blast. There was a muffled sound, and the slope hiccuped a bit as the bedrock was turned from solid rock into small chunks. But there was no explosion, and when the hiccup settled the topsoil and grass were all still in place, waiting to be dug out with big machinery.
While thinking about this post, I found this interesting article on New England stone walls.
Out my back door, more or less.
My old colleagues in the Boston area used to wonder what we did to entertain ourselves up here in the wilderness, where nothing much could possibly be going on. This picture shows a snow-covered pump track (for biking), cross-country ski tracks, a snowmobile trail, and the superintendent’s office for the local school district. The schools, of course, host an endless stream of activities (sports, theater, music, speech and debate meets…), including hearty outdoor activities all year ‘round.
At ground level.
I parked the car by the side of a country road to take a picture of a tree in the distance, lit by the setting sun. Looking down, I found this.
College Avenue in Waterville on a brutally cold Sunday afternoon.
There were people somewhere – they drove those vehicles to those parking spaces, after all. But they certainly weren’t out on the street.
My garage door. (I guess that makes five. :-)
I love watching for the moment when the world is reflected in my windows. It helps that my building and the barn are oriented so that the windows catch the setting sun.
Sewall Street in Augusta.
Wag
Love the garage door photo. Each reflection is its own interesting vignette.
HeartlandLiberal
Your pics reminded me of Robert Frost’s poem Mending Wall. A snippet…
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,….
MomSense
My dad restored all the old stone walls that surrounded my grandparents’ farm. I have such happy memories of “helping” when I was little. He tucked my little stones into little pockets between the stones and I was thrilled. The stacked stone walls I have made are more stylized. It truly is an engineering art to build a proper stone wall.
pb3550
Love your views of Maine. I found them soothing in these tumultuous days.
The Quiet One
Posts like this is why I drop by every morning. Love the pix and the stories that go with them.
HinTN
The stone walls in these parts have gone the way of time. Weather has rounded off the edges and soil has accumulated. There’s two variety of wall here, those erected by folks clearing fields given in Revolutionary War land grants and those erected by Woodland peoples to mark sacred spaces.
MelissaM
Pic 1 is lovely and seemed much more romantic until I read about the septic tank cover. ;-)
I remember reading in Yankee Magazine about a man who would build such creative stone walls, curving into and out of the ground, swirling, etc. Expensive and lengthy in construction time.
cyndyj
Your photos and reflections are a beautiful way to start the day- thank you!
DFH
Good shots, they give a sense of time and place. And the descriptions were quite helpful.
Munira
Love these. Hard to pick a favorite. Many remind me of Quebec – especially, the rock wall and the leaves with the light.
JanieM
Thanks all.
@Munira: I’ve only spent a few days in Quebec, but it is indeed a familiar landscape, and I enjoyed my visit a few years ago. I’m hoping to spend more time there when the pandemic eases up.
Munira
@JanieM: Hopefully, the pandemic will go away some day and you get to spend time there.
Tehanu
Love the leaves.
JJ
Love the descriptions as much as the photos. Maine, gotta love it.
The Castle
The septic tank cover photo is just perfect. That early morning fog – I can feel the cold dew on my fingers as I run my hands through the grass. Quite a different sensation from the rough frozen fingers in the Waterville shot.
The amount of manual labor it took just to dig those stones out of the ground and drag them to the edge of the fields is staggering, separate from building the wall itself. Having done both, I can attest the latter is more satisfying (and far easier) than the former.
Because I split time between Boston and the New England countryside, I get to see the chauvinism of both sides. But point well taken about the city dwellers wondering if anything happens in the country. In fact, I am busier out in the sticks – the work never stops.
JanieM
@The Castle: Yes to the fact that there’s chauvinism on both sides. A notable example is the phrase “from away” — which, for anyone not acquainted with Maine, means anyone not born in the state.
In this view, you can never *become* a Mainer, you can only be born one. It’s a funny mix of pride and insecurity, Mainers against the world. I’ve lived in 6 or 7 other states and I’ve never run across a phrase (or the mentality it represents) quite like it.
But all people and places have their quirks, and despite the fact that I have the handicap of having been born in Ohio, I consider Maine to be my home. I do love the place.