Explanations, a Painting, and Some Musings

I am still having almost no success posting pictures here, which is why I am so seldom posting anything.  Instead of writing, I am spending hours at a time trying to do this.  Finally, today, I got this picture uploaded.  I started the chore last night, worked for about two hours, then gave up.  With renewed energy, I tackled it again this morning and finally got the job done.  Can I repeat it?  No.  I have no idea what sequence of events finally succeeded.



Anyway, this is my latest painting of dancers.  I can't remember if I posted the original watercolor, which I didn't like.  Yesterday I was about to throw it away when the idea struck me to paint over it.  I did so with acrylics and am fairly happy with the results.



My days since I last wrote have been consumed by planning cataract surgery.  The result was cancellation of the whole thing.  At this point, I don't want to take the time to explain why.  Actually I'm not sure myself.  Thinking about it and trying to arrange the trip to Ellsworth without being able to drive myself, dealing with the dogs because I would have to stay overnight, became too overwhelming.  The painting is the visual representation of my relieved and tentatively happy state of mind once I made the decision.



Every day when I walk the dogs I take the time to really look at the ocean.  I had learned to take it for granted.  My thinking about moving to Bangor has made me realize how much Eastport means to me.  I wonder how I ever thought I wanted to leave, and stare at the ocean with new appreciation.  There it is, always within sight.  During the first part of my life it was a rare treat to see it .  It meant at least an hour on the road even to get to a salt water bay.......over two hours to the open water.  The sun was always shining.  It was always summer. That's what I knew of it. In the first journal I kept when I first came to live in Eastport, alone, in the winter was the same day a huge storm hit the northeast. I wrote about getting to know the ocean during a winter storm.  I was quite in awe of it, seeing it in a completely new way.  That storm turned out to be quite a disaster, with electricity out for over a week or more all over the northeast and Canada.  I had no radio, no newspaper.........I had no idea what was going on.  I knew no one here.  The dogs and I were immersed in isolation, eagerly embracing the experience, which I chronicled in my journal during the short daylight hours. I still love to re-read that journal, reliving that time.  


Besides the location, I love the way of life here.  I have none of the justifiably paranoid ideas of those who live in cities even slightly bigger than this one.  Here, in the winter, we can leave our cars idling in the parking lot of the grocery store while we shop so they will be warm when we return. We rarely dress up.....my wardrobe is from the thrift shop.  No one is in a hurry, no one cares much about making money (making it hard to hire anybody to do a job).  People work at seasonal jobs just long enough to survive for a few months, then quit until they need money again.  I admire this tremendously, but most people "from away" can not understand it.  They are frustrated by the fact that the locals can not be bribed with the lure of money.  Of course, this is all changing now with the influx of people from other places, even since I have lived here.  Still, though, there exists a gulf between the two factions that makes them stare at each other with complete bewilderment, if not disdain.


I am an observer, philosophically on the side of the locals, but tainted by my roots.  I fit in neither group.  It's a place I have always been and am comfortable there.