All posts by Laurie Graves

I write about nature, food, the environment, home, family, community, and people.
Celebrate

Memorial Day Weekend: First Bike Ride, First Barbecue

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We’ve had a cool somewhat rainy May, but Saturday and especially Sunday turned out be warm and sunny. Accordingly, Clif brought up the bikes from down cellar, and on Sunday, we went for the first bike ride of the season.

A brief backstory: Through last fall and winter, I have been, ahem, a bit sedentary. I do have an excuse—I’ve been extremely busy with Maya and the Book of Everything—but let’s just say that my body has not been impressed with this excuse. Or with the amount of chocolate I like to eat. So the beginning of May, I took the exercise bike by the seat, so to speak. I decided no mater how busy I was—and I continue to be very busy—I was going to ride the exercise bike for at least thirty minutes a day for six days a week. Oh, that road to nowhere is a boring one, but I persevered.

Yesterday, the pay-off was more than evident. We went eight miles, which included a decent hill, and I was neither winded nor exhausted after the ride. We started out at lovely Norcross Point, where families were enjoying the sunny day.

As we biked by the lake, I heard a loon call. A little later, I saw a blue heron fishing by the shore. (Alas, I didn’t get a picture. ) I could smell lilacs and lilies of the valley. People grilling meat. Such a day!

We stopped to take a picture of our friend’s garden. Very fitting for Memorial Day when we honor the men and woman in the military as well as the people who have passed from our lives. Gone, but still remembered.

Here’s a closer look.

When we got home, up came the big green patio table, and we were ready for our first barbecue of the season—turkey burgers.

We settled at the table, enjoying our drinks—beer for Clif and iced green tea and honey for me.

After a leisurely lunch, Clif mowed the lawn, I planted, and we both pronounced Sunday a finest kind of day.

The cherry on the sundae? Later that night, I was listening to the New Yorker Radio Hour before falling asleep, and David Remnick, the incredible editor of the New Yorker, referred to something someone said as a “quotation” rather than the more commonly used “quote.”

I must confess, this is one of my grammar crotchets. Quote is a verb, and quotation is a noun. But, as with many things grammar, this is changing with use, and most people say or write “quote” when they really mean “quotation.” I’ve resigned myself to this. Why fight the inevitable?

But, oh, it made me smile to hear David Remnick use the correct word.

News

Three Things Thursday: Flowers, Flowers, Flowers.

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Oh, the lovely month of May! Even when the day is cloudy, the landscape is positively aglow with new green, bright yellow, and the froth of flowering trees. In May, it is not too hard to find three things to be grateful for in my Three Things Thursday Post.

At the risk of being redundant, this week all my gratitude will be lavished on flowers. Full disclosure: I am a fool for flowers, and this might happen again in another Three Things Thursday post.

First, the Solomon’s seal I bought at Fernwood Nursery in Montville. How dainty yet mysterious the flowers are. Long may this plant  thrive!

Second, the brilliant purple of this iris. Jason, of Garden in a City, has his tulips. I have my irises. They are my favorite flower, bar none.

Third, begonias.  While I can’t honestly say they are one of my favorites, begonias are one of the few annuals that thrive at the little house in the big woods. From May through October, begonias bring a welcome splash of color to all the lovely green we have here. And for that I am very grateful.

And, for an added bonus, there is a fourth flower. A weed actually. But how bright and yellow it is. And a closer look reveals the various shapes and twists of the flower..

So there! Four things for Thursday.

Readers, may you find many things to be grateful for.

Food for Thought

To Manchester and England, My Heart Goes Out to You

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Today’s post is dedicated to Manchester, England. The bombing of the arena was a horrible thing to do.  As someone who lives in the United States, I know all too well how such an attack can rattle the whole country. (On September 11, 2001, I had a daughter in New York City and in Washington, DC. It is a day I will never forget.)

As is the case with all such attacks, the Manchester bombing was just plain evil, bringing tragedy, pain, and death to what should have been a joyful event. I suppose that was the whole point. But what a vile, cowardly act to target children.

The one consoling note to this catastrophe was hearing on the radio about the kindness and generosity of the people who live in Manchester.  A cab company gave free rides to shaken survivors. People took strangers into their home. There is indeed a coming together when such a tragic event occurs.

What follows will be a time of grieving and sorrow.

Manchester, my heart goes out to you.

 

Books, News

Maya and the Book of Everything at the Chapel Hill Library in North Carolina

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Yesterday, I received a wonderful email from my daughter Shannon, who lives in North Carolina. She had put in a request for the Chapel Hill Library to carry my YA fantasy novel, Maya and the Book of Everything. And, by gum, they have! So now Maya and the Book of Everything is in a library in North Carolina.

Requesting that a library carry a book is a wonderful way to promote writers and to help spread the word about their books. (Some of you have also done this for Maya, and I thank you very much.)

Readers, if your library has Maya and the Book of Everything, be sure to let me know. After all, even though there is plenty of adventure and fantasy in my book, there are also some serious issues: the importance of libraries for spreading knowledge and the notion that facts do matter.

Perhaps in today’s world, that last notion seems a little quaint, but it is my belief that facts have always mattered and always will.

Flowers, Food, Gardening, People

To the Red Barn, Fernwood Nursery, and John’s Ice Cream

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Yesterday was a finest kind of day, even though it was hotter than heck—in the 90s. For Mother’s Day, Shannon gave me a gift certificate to the fabulous Red Barn––thank you, Shannon!—and our first stop was lunch. I had one of my favorite things—a delectable lobster roll—and Clif had fish and chips and a side order of onion rings.

After that, it was on to Fernwood Nursery in Montville, where I met my blogging friend Denise Sawyer and her husband Rick. A note about blogging friends in general and Denise in specific: Blogging has enhanced my life  in unexpected and utterly delightful ways. In this country and in many others, through blogging, I have met a wonderful, creative group of people who inspire me. You might even call this a far-flung community of kindred spirits.

I met Denise in a roundabout way, through an Irish blog called The Aran Artisan.  As it turned out, Melissa, of the Aran Artisan, is originally from Maine, and Denise, one of her followers, lives in Maine now. Hence the connection. Denise found out I was Franco-American and very kindly sent me a book about Franco-Americans. I discovered Denise and her husband own a nursery that specializes in shady plants.

I have a shady yard and gardens with, ahem,  a few holes. As Fernwood Nursery is within driving distance of where we live, Clif and I decided to make the trek to Montville after our Red Barn lunch.

What a treat to visit Denise, Rick,  and their delightful nursery tucked in the woods. Truly, it felt like Clif and I were connecting with old friends, even though we had never met. Despite this being a very busy time for Fernwood, Denise graciously took time to talk with us and to give us advice about planting in dry shade. I came home with a Solomon’s seal, just perfect for that aforementioned hole in the garden.

Denise also told us a little about herself, about how she came from an old Connecticut family that dates back to the 1600s. Rick is from the Lewiston/Auburn area, and they own about twenty acres of land in Montville, which not only supports the nursery but also provides about 85 percent of what they eat.

Most of the land remains wooded, and Denise is quite rightly proud that they get so much out of a small footprint, their livelihood as well as a lot of their food.

As we sat outside in wicker chairs, I heard the clucking of chickens in a nearby pen, big with plenty of room to peck and scratch. In the background came the melodious song of large wood chimes, and it almost seemed as though the woods were singing.

Denise and Rick have what can only be called a flair for making their nursery a lovely place. Green, green, and green, so bright yet soothing. Lots of little containers tucked with different varieties of hens and chicks. Double-blossom white trilliums. Arresting sculpture.

Here are some pictures of Fernwood Nursery.

As Denise noted, “It’s a good place to be.”

It most certainly is, and we look forward to visiting again.

Now, you might be wondering how in the world we ended the day that would be in keeping with seafood and a delightful nursery.

Following Denise’s suggestion, we went to John’s ice cream.

As the sign indicates, the ice cream is handmade and oh so delicious.

What a good life we have!

News

Three Things Thursday: Bagels, Croissant, Master Bakers

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Once again it is Thursday—funny how they roll around every week—where I list three things I am oh so grateful for. Hence the title, Three Things Thursday.

For this week’s post, my gratitude can be summed up in two words: Forage Market. Add Lewiston, Maine, to this and the gratitude slips into astonishment. A little while ago, I wrote about Forage Market and how their bagels were so good it was almost beyond comprehension, especially for a gritty little city like Lewiston.

However, upon my first visit, I had ordered a bagel sandwich, and I had decided that to really taste the bagel, I would need to order one with just a smear of butter and no other ingredients. This meant a return trip—all in the interest of research, you understand—and last Friday Clif, Mary Jane, and I went back to Forage Market, where I had a sesame bagel with butter and nothing else.

And how was it? Good enough to go on my Three Things Thursday post.

So here is the first thing: A buttered bagel from Forage Market—loaded with sesame seeds, crunchy on the outside, soft and tender on the inside. And as if that weren’t enough, the tea is really good, too. (Not a given in Maine restaurants, which fuss over coffee but think nothing of providing a Lipton tea bag to tea drinkers.)

Second, a croissant: As I was ordering my bagel at Forage Market, I glanced at the glass case beside me and saw some croissants. Should I get one to split between Clif, Mary Jane, and me? I am sorry to report that in central Maine, I have been unable to find anything that remotely resembles a good croissant, which should be crunchy on the outside and flaky with butter on the inside. Oh, what the heck, I thought. Just get the darned thing.

Readers, I almost wept with joy when I tasted this croissant, which was everything a croissant should be. Clif and Mary Jane concurred, and Mary Jane said that next time she goes to Forage, she will get a croissant sandwich.

Third, but most important: The master bakers at Forage Market. None of these amazing baked delicacies would be possible without the skill and dedication of the bakers, who truly are masters of their craft.  Clif took a picture of one of the bakers, but unfortunately he did not get the baker’s name. Clif did learn that there is another baker who specializes in making croissants. Oh, happy, happy day! Also note the fireplace to the right of the baker and the black doors above. This is the wood-fired oven where all the delectable items are baked.

Clif and I have decided that we would be fools not to go to a bakery of this caliber on a regular basis. Forage truly is a first-rate bakery, not only for Maine but also for anywhere else.

Celebrate, People

Our Favorite Nephew Graduates

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Last Saturday, I got up before breakfast, as my mother would have put it, and was on the road by 6 a.m. Off to the University of Maine at Orono I went to see my favorite nephew—Patrick Meunier—graduate from college. The ceremony started at 9:30 a.m. As there were over 1,000 students graduating, it was important to arrive at the university a couple of hours before the ceremony began in order to get a good place to park and good seating.

This I did, and I was even able to save seats for Patrick’s parents—my brother Steve and my sister-in-law Rose—an aunt and uncle, and his maternal grandmother. Unfortunately, Clif was not able to come. It was simply too long to leave the dog, and now that Liam is blind, we don’t feel comfortable asking any of our friends to take care of him if we are to be away for a long time. But Patrick is a dog lover, and he understood about Liam.

My mother passed away nine years ago, and how I wish she had lived long enough to see Patrick graduate. She helped take care of him when he was little, and she loved Patrick very much. To bring a piece of Mom to the ceremony, I wore one of her favorite bracelets, and it was comforting for me to have something of hers on my wrist.

Because we arrived so early, we naturally had to wait a while before the ceremony began. Somehow, I didn’t mind at all. I watched the people stream in. I chatted with Steve and Rose, and the time just zipped by. The ceremony was held in an arena, and there was a jumbotron flashing scenes from the inside. But then, a little before 9:30, the cameras turned outward and focused on the large stream of students  in blue marching toward the arena. Later, we found out from Patrick that there wasn’t any rehearsal. The students were told to march in some semblance of a line, and by gum they did.

Into the arena they came, and our little party strained eagerly to see Patrick. And there he was, smiling and radiant and looking oh so happy to be graduating. “After all,” Clif would say later. “He’s worked hard to get that degree.” Indeed he has.

Here’s a picture of the marching students. Can you guess which one is Patrick?

As I watched his beaming face, I felt my eyes prickle with tears. I’ve known Patrick since he was a little baby, and I’ve watched him grow into a fine young man—kind, energetic, and determined—who loves art and theater and movies. I had to speak very sternly to myself so that I didn’t go from being misty eyed to outright blubbering. I am happy to report I was successful.

Considering how many students were getting their degrees, the ceremony moved along smartly. The commencement speakers were Heather and Abe Furth, local entrepreneurs and a power couple who started their first business—Woodman’s Bar and Grill—when they were twenty-three. The Furths took turns speaking not only of the importance of fearlessly going forth in life but also of making a commitment to local economies and communities. Very impressive.

Then the graduation ceremony was over, and out we went into the blessedly rain-free day, the first in a while. Naturally, we took pictures.

After pictures, we went to a restaurant in Brewer, the High Tide, right beside the Penobscot River. Such a lovely view! To mark this momentous occasion, I had one of my favorite things—a lobster roll—and as we ate, there was much merriment and joy.

The title of this piece indicates that Clif and I are playing favorites when it comes to Patrick. As Patrick is our only nephew, this is not strictly true. However, even if he weren’t our only nephew, he would still be our favorite.

Best of luck, Patrick, as you begin your creative journey!

 

 

 

Books

Threads of Realism at Hartland Public Library

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Yesterday, Clif and I went to the Hartland Public Library, where I gave my presentation Threads of Realism in Fantasy: Maya, Maine, and the Franco-American Connection. My friend Beth Clark is a member of the Friends of the Library, and she recommended me and my presentation.  Thank you, Beth!

Hartland Library is a very sweet, welcoming place, filled with books, DVDS, and computers.  I was reminded, yet again, how lucky Maine is to have such a wealth of libraries in communities great and small across the state. Hartland has a population of approximately 1,700, and the library is a real gem, a center to the town.

Being new at giving presentations, I am always a little nervous at the start. But at the Hartland Library, those who came were so warm and appreciative that I was soon put at ease. When I had finished and we were chatting over refreshments, Beth made a comment that was music to my ears, as the saying goes. Beth told me that she enjoyed my presentation so much that she would like to hear it again and to let her know if I do another one within an hour’s radius of Hartland.

Oh, thanks, Beth! I’ll be sure to let you know.

Me, my book, and a slide from my presentation