... if not suffering, at least enduring a combination of seasonal-affective and holiday-induced depression, i was grateful when john said, "i'll drive, grab your camera and we'll go for a little wanderabout" ... our first stop was to stroll about the peary-macmillan museum in brunswick ... always i'm captivated by inuit art, and also, as you can see, classic marble sculptures ...
... hard to believe, but a "first" for me was heading south onto the phippsburg peninsula ... our first stop was head beach ...
... while we drove john and i had talked of places we'd like to visit ... at the very top of my highly-unlikely-i'll-ever-go-there list was easter island, so it was rather interesting when we ran across a huge tree which had drifted up onto beach to have it's trunk and limbs carved and initialed by legions of summer people and winter wanderers ...
... unaware of john recording my efforts ...
... from the warf jutting into atkin's cove behind fort popham i experiment with my little fuji x-e1 in very contrasty lighting conditions ...
... using a well-practiced sneak-up-on-a-seagull stealth walk, i got within arms reach of what i identify as a Larus smithsonianus herring gull in its winter plumage ...
... looking down from the huge granite block footings of the fort's mighty ramparts, i found a fascinating example of the mechanics of scale ... the surface of mars as seen from the MRO satellite orbiting almost 200 miles above the red planet:
... and, from perhaps twenty feet or so, the surface of maine:
MARS
... and, from perhaps twenty feet or so, the surface of maine:
MAINE
... so obvious, there is no longer any question that "rivulets of water" rolled down to an alien sea, but—but, perhaps of the greatest of all the questions ever to be asked, "did friends stroll that distant shore, their thoughts simply appreciation of the beauty at their feet" ...
... most likely washed down from the great forest that is the source of the kennebec, but, being that it was deposited by tidal water, it could also be a wind and sea driven wanderer from some far distant land ...
... on the ridge behind the revolutionary and civil war era fort popham is the more modern defensive structure, fort baldwin ... on this protectived pedestal was mounted one of battery hawley's two 6" naval rifles, each of which could deliver a shell accurately over a distance of up to seven miles ...
... fort baldwin is maintained as a park, otherwise trees and plants and moss such as this would cover completely the site ...
... soaring above a dense forest canopy, perhaps the fire control tower will remain when all else has been reclaimed by nature ...
... but, inevitably, as the massive walls of troy and ilium, so earth and time will once again conquer the arrogance of man ... perhaps, just perhaps, ol' isaiah was right, "... and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more."
... before the pilgrims, on this little point was one of the first english settlements in new england ... the colony failed, a result of the terrible winter of 1607, but also due to management and financial problems ... before the colonists returned to england, however, they launched the virginia, possibly the first english-built ocean-going ship built in north america ...
... contrasting the bay's cold waters, the mid afternoon winter sunset seems reflection of the terrible fire that destroyed the popham colony's storehouse and the many essential supplies it contained ...
... i tried, but the perkin's island light, post sunset, need be seen to be truly appreciated ...
... so i turned sideways, to find color i could capture ...
... as the darkness descended we made a last stop opposite the squirrel point lighthouse ... i climbed through the bramble bush and almost broke my neck falling when a huge granite block from a colonial era building foundation unexpectedly shifted as i put my weight upon it, but i managed to snap a picture appropriate to the ending of a wonderful day ...
At rest, even in the calmest of anchorages,
a ship never stops, it merely takes pause.
A.Brady