Even though Clif and I are retired, we follow a work-week schedule because our eldest daughter Dee, who lives with us, has a traditional forty-hour a-week job. We arrange our schedule to match hers so that we can eat together and go to the movies on Saturday and Sunday. Therefore, after a  free and easy weekend, Monday always comes with a bit of a thud

This Monday’s thud hit us a little harder. We woke up to find that our hot water heater had stopped working. No hot water for showers or for doing dishes. No hot water period.

It could be worse, and indeed it has been. We still have cold water, and we can flush our toilets.  (Trust me, this is no small thing.) However, not having  water has thrown a bit of crimp into our usual routine.

Therefore, this week’s post is shorter than usual as my husband and I tend to this and that. But hot water or not, the gardens are thriving, and a couple of pictures of green and growing plants seems like a good place to end.

Somehow, I posted this week’s piece when I was only halfway done. Here is the rest of what I intended to post.

On Saturday, I went to a lovely poetry reading at my library. Jeri Theriault was the poet, and as she read, her husband, Philip Carlsen, accompanied her on the cello. This was a striking combination, with the words and music enhancing each other. I especially liked the way Jeri wove art and the classics into her everyday experiences, giving the poetry depth and a larger meaning.

Sunday was Mother’s Day. Did we celebrate? Of course we did. We met our daughter Shannon and her husband Mike in York, a halfway point for both of us.

First, we had Chinese food.

Then we went to Stonewall Kitchen.

I particularly liked this fine fellow.

After shopping in the store, with its many temptations, we had tea and dessert, which included my favorite, a whoopie pie.

After that, it was on to the movies, to see the fun and charming The Sheep Detectives. Quite a change from the past couple of movies we’ve seen, which have been more on the horror side. What can I say? We have eclectic tastes.

We went to a cinema in New Hampshire, and to get there we had to cross The Bridge. Every Mainer who heads south to New Hampshire and beyond knows this bridge. It is a solid demarcation that gives Maine the feeling of an island. A true Mainer crosses that bridge with a hint of sadness and then returns with a feeling of joy, a feeling of coming home.

Here, we approach the bridge.

Getting closer

and closer.

And then we were in New Hampshire.

But we were back home again in the same day, as my mother might have said.

A perfect trip for this homebody who thinks home is best and loves sleeping in her very own bed.

There is so much going on right now—at least for this homebody (I can’t hold a candle to many of my lovely blogging friends)—that I’m going to touch on several things rather than just focus on one or two the way I usual do.

First, the incredible growing ferns that grow so fast I swear I can see them shoot up in real time.

Here they were two weeks ago:

Here they are now:

What will they look like next week? Never a dull moment at the home by the edge of the woods.

Last week, most of my free time was spent gardening. Because we live by the edge of the woods, leaves blow into my beds in the fall, and it takes a fair amount of time to remove those leaves. (All in all, those leaves are a good thing as they help protect the perennials from the cold that Maine winters bring.)

I am happy to report that I am down to the last leafy bed.

With any luck, the last of the leaves will be gone by the end of the week.

Spring, Spring, Spring is here! Is there a sweeter time of year? I don’t think so. Brief, green, frothy, and glorious, Spring compresses her beauty in one short month in Maine. And that month is May. (When I went to college in Indiana, I was astonished by how long Spring lasted. I found the extended Spring to be a little too intoxicating, making it hard to study.)

First, I want to show you how those sweet little ferns have grown in just one week. I took this picture on April 22.

And this one on April 29.

They grow so fast. Sniff, sniff.

My yard continues to be a constant delight. Clif and I moved the big table to the patio. There’s no umbrella yet—it’s actually been rather cool, which I like. But we have chairs clustered around the table, and all we need is a nice warm day so that we can raise our glasses to Spring.

The seed in the backyard feeder is disappearing at a furious rate. Setting up housekeeping is hard work for the birds, and we are happy to provide sustenance. In the picture below, a hairy woodpecker (I think, but birding friends, do correct me if I’m wrong) comes to eat. I really like the angle of the woodpecker’s body.

Male goldfinches look especially fine among the red flowers of the maple tree. Can you spot Goldy? Should be pretty easy, even though the picture was taken from afar.

This will be a week of gardening when the weather allows—lots of rain in the forecast, which is good, but it does interfere with the yardwork. Just as the ferns grow at an astonishing clip, so do the plants in my garden. Most of the gardening must be done by the beginning of June.

The countdown begins.

But it’s not all work and no play.

Surprise, surprise, we did manage to slide in a movie—the creepy Hochum, featuring Adam Scott. (If horror is not your thing, this is definitely one to skip, but for readers who like horror, add Hokum to your watch list.)

After the movie, we went to Cushnoc Brewing Co. in Augusta for pizza and flatbread.

Both were mighty tasty.

Our friends Dawna and Jim separately decided to go out for pizza, too, and we were delighted to see them. Our server was more than willing to pull over a table so that they could join us, and we had a jolly Sunday evening of talk and pizza.

You might even say it was a finest kind of evening.

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Listening

It’s May the Fourth, so what else? Has it really been forty-nine years? Yes, it has.

As longtime readers might recall, Earth Day is an important day for our family. First and foremost, it is our youngest daughter Shannon’s birthday. My daughters’ birthdays are always such sweet days for me to remember, the days when we welcomed two darling babies into our family. Really, nothing can compare with this, and their birthdays always give me a happy spark.

On Saturday, we will be meeting Shannon and her husband, Mike, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for a day of festivities. I will be sure to post pictures next week.

Then, of course, there is the actual Earth Day, which to this family of Green Beans is a high holy holiday.

The first Earth Day was celebrated on April 22, 1970. Wisconsin Senator Gaylord Nelson, an ardent environmentalist, was one of the organizers, and when I clicked on Wikipedia to fact-check, I came upon a photo of President Richard Nixon and First Lady Pat Nixon planting a tree on the White House lawn in honor of the first Earth Day. Back in those halcyon days, the Republicans were on board with Democrats, and they passed significant environmental legislation, “including the Clean Air Act, Clean Water Act, Endangered Species Act, Marine Mammal Protection Act, Superfund, Toxics Substances Control Act, and the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act. It had seen the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency and the banning of DDT…”

All this legislation has directly affected Maine in a very good way. For example, when I was young, bald eagles in our state were a rare sight and were on the endangered list. Now, thanks to the Clean Water Act and the banning of DDT, seeing them is not uncommon, especially by our rivers. Truly, a cause for celebration.

But for this Earth Day, I want to narrow the focus and celebrate our very own yard, our one small acre that sits by the edge of the woods. We do what we can to live as lightly as possible. We use organic compost and fertilizers. No pesticides. No herbicides. Life, in all its various aspects, thrives—birds, mammals, insects (some of which we appreciate more than others), and people. After all, we raised two daughters here.

Here are spring snapshots taken in our yard for Earth Day 2026.

A nest I found on the ground,

a black beetle on the patio,

a six-spotted tiger beetle,

and birds at the feeder in the backyard. Sometimes they have squabbles.

In the front yard, I put together a little stone stack to honor my garden.

On our one acre, we have a charger that fuels our car. This has been a big part of our environmental journey.

Do we miss going to gas stations and filling our car with stinking gasoline? We do not. Charging in our yard is much more convenient. It costs us between $15 and $20 a month to charge our EV. As my Yankee husband would say, a pretty darned good deal.

And finally, here is our Chevy Bolt, which I have unimaginatively named “Bolty.”

Bolty took us through an extremely cold winter with no problems. Without hesitation, it started when the temperature was -20. The heater did shave off some of the mileage, but it was still over the 200-mile range, and Bolty brought us where we wanted to go. Once, when we went beyond Bolty’s range, we used a commercial charger, and within half an hour, we were 80% charged and on the road again. (We used that time to go to the bathroom and get snacks.)

A very happy Earth Day to you all!  And while it should hardly need to be said, may every day be Earth Day.

What a January it has been. The horrors just keep coming.

First on the list, January 3: Venezuela, with the removal of President Maduro and President Trump’s vow to “run” the country. Is Venezuela going to be another Iraq with guns, bombs, and death? Stay tuned. It’s early days.

Second on the list, January 6: Trump’s saber-rattling over Greenland and his hi-hoing it off to Davos, Switzerland, to the World Economic Forum, where he was rightly chastised by Canada’s Prime Minister, Mark Carney. For the time being, Trump seems to have backed off from his plans to take over Greenland. Again, it’s early days. Stay tuned.

Then, closer to home and just as terrible: the sending of ICE agents and Border Patrol to round up “the worst of the worst” in various cities that voted against Trump. Minneapolis has been hit particularly hard, but in Maine, Portland and Lewiston have also been targeted.

On January 7, in Minneapolis, Renée Good was murdered by an ICE agent. She was shot point-blank in the head as she slowly—very slowly—tried to maneuver her car around ICE agents blocking the way. The administration pegged her as a domestic terrorist, stating that Good was trying to run over the agents. But thanks to the brave folks who filmed the murder, we know better. I have watched the videos many times, and it was clear that Good was trying to drive away. Her last words: “That’s fine, dude. I’m not mad at you.”

Finally, on January 24, a time of cold, snow, and ice for much of the United States, Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse, was murdered by federal agents in Minneapolis. As Pretti was filming the agents, they tackled him, threw him to the sidewalk, pepper-sprayed him, beat him, and then shot him ten times in five seconds. Yes, Pretti was legally carrying a gun. No, he did not draw it on the agents as the Trump administration initially claimed. I’ve seen the videos of the brutal attack and murder of Pretti. The administration was lying, just as they lied about Good’s death.

For the whole weekend, as the snow fell, I felt sick to my stomach about the way things are going in this country.

Yet, there are glimmers of hope. The brave folks of Minneopolis continue to film and protest. Minnesota’s National Guard, unmasked, has been handing out hot chocolate to protestors.

According to Maine Public, in Westbrook, Maine, “community members form a human wall to keep local workers safe from ICE.”

I long to be out there on the front line with the protesters, but my limited mobility keeps me inside. However, as my blogging friend Quercus reminded me, “Play to your strengths, Laurie—keep writing and talking, send kindness into the world, and let young people do the running.”

Thank you for the push, Quercus. That’s exactly what I am going to do, which means I’ll be carrying on with Notes from the Hinterland.

It’s amazing how things can from December to January.

After ten years, the time has come to say farewell to Notes from the Hinterland. This was not an easy decision as this is a wonderful community, and I have made friends near and far. I have even been fortunate enough to meet a few blogging friends in person, and what a pleasure that has been.

But as I approach seventy turns around the sun, I am keenly aware that I have more years behind me than I do ahead of me. And with the passing of those years has come a reduction in energy. Cleaning house, cooking, gardening, reading, and fiction writing absorb most of my time. Back in the day, I could whip through all these activities and have energy to spare. But no longer. Now I have to choose.

Fiction is my first love, and for sixty years—since third grade—that love hasn’t diminished. (I think of nonfiction writing as a beloved cousin.) This fall, my fifth novel, Darcy Dansereau, will be published, and I am already working on a sixth, Iris Starmoss: Elf Detective. I have many more ideas for future novels, probably more than I will ever get a chance to write. But I’m going to make a stab at it, and fiction writing is where I want my writing energy to go.

So farewell, Notes from the Hinterland. It’s been a great run, and blog writing has brought me a lot of joy. From time to time, I’ll pop into readers’ blogs and leave a comment, but it won’t be on a regular schedule.

For those who want to stay in touch, there are two easy ways: on Facebook (Laurie Graves) and on Bluesky (lauriegraves). On Facebook, I am already friends with several blogging friends, and I enjoy the brief snippets they share about their lives.

I’ll end with a couple of photos of our backyard on the edge of the woods. Winter has come, and with it the beautiful light that this cold season brings.

Again, farewell!