Yesterday I went to visit Sara, Russ, and their new baby girl, Piper, and I came bearing gifts of homemade macaroni and cheese and homemade brownies. Piper is a little beauty with delicate ears, an equally delicate nose, and a wonderful smell. As Sara noted, that smell should be bottled and sold. Why do young creatures smell so good? It is the same way with puppies and kittens. Is it the smell of being new to this world? Whatever the reason, as I held the sleeping Piper, I just took in her smell as I admired that dear, little face.

Piper is Sara and Russ’s first child, and what a joy to watch them as they work together to take care of their new baby. For the most part, gone are the days when men went to work and had very little to do with childcare. Russ’s employer has given him four weeks of fully-paid paternity leave—a benefit all parents should have—and he is just as involved as Sara is with taking care of the baby.

As Sara noted on Facebook: “We gave Piper her first bath. And when I say ‘we’ I really mean Russ did. I was sort of the bath butler.”

“I could take care of Piper full time,” Russ told me, and he is so joyful and relaxed around Piper that I certainly believed him.

While I held Piper, Sara gazed at her child with that new-mother-totally-in-love-with-her-baby look, and she couldn’t resist coming over to kiss the baby’s cheeks and nose.

I stayed for a little over an hour, and we talked about Sara’s delivery, babies, children, and how it was perfectly all right that some women did not want to have babies. Truly, Russ and Sara are a modern couple who think there is more than one way to live a good life. For some, it is having a family. For others, it is not, and they are not judgemental about couples who choose to remain childless.

When it was time for me to leave, Sara said, “Come again!” and I certainly will.

As I drove to Augusta and thought about Piper, Sara, and Russ, I was so teary eyed that it’s a wonder I could see well enough to drive. I’ve known Sara since she was a little girl. Now, she is a young woman with a sweet little baby and a terrific husband who said proudly, “We’re a team.”

Congratulations, Sara and Russ! What wonderful, loving parents you will be and already are. And little Piper, welcome to this world!

On Saturday, I went to a baby shower. I have known Sara, the mother-to-be, since she was a little girl, and what a pleasure it is to see how she has become a lovely young woman who is now—with her husband, Russ—starting her own  family. The cycle continues with new life, and with it comes hope and joy. Beth, Sara’s mother, and I have now become the older generation, the matriarchs of the family, and we are stepping into the roles that our own mothers had not so long ago.

Sara and Russ have chosen not to know the sex of the baby, so the little one was referred to as baby Lozefski—Sara and Russ’s last name. Fittingly, the theme of the shower was jungle animals, good for either a boy or a girl—what’s not to like about toy animals?—and the cake had zebras, giraffes, and elephants marching across the frosting. However, as the younger, progressive women—Sara’s sister and cousins—were quick to point out, nowadays it’s perfectly fine for babies, regardless of their gender, to wear any and every color. Right on!

Beth, an accomplished quilter, made the sweetest quilt for the baby, her first grandchild. In keeping with the jungle theme, Zebras frolic on the quilt. Will the baby have jungle dreams, I wonder?

Because I am a good eater, I quite naturally took several pictures of the food. What a tasty spread! Family and friends came together to provide food for the buffet, and I love these homegrown affairs.

Sara—and baby Lozefski—received a flood of tiny socks, sleepers, bibs, and outfits, with the last items unwrapped being just as adorable as the first. Lisa, Sara’s sister, is a teacher, and when it comes to babies, she thinks along the same lines as I do—books, books, books. Lisa went to various books sales and bought classic books that were in good shape. Then, she bundled them in a basket and commissioned a little pig to stand guard over the books, which included Make Way for Ducklings and my personal favorite, Where the Wild Things Are.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I, too, bought books for the new baby. Fortunately, there were no overlaps between what I bought—Talking Walls and You’re Wearing That to School?—and what Lisa bought. Baby Lozefski will not only be well dressed, but he or she will also have the start of a terrific collection of children’s books.

A loving family, lots of soft clothes to wear, a warm quilt, plenty of books. What a great way to start!

Saturday was a busy day full of errands around town—to the library, to Paris Farmers Union, and, most important, to the transfer station. As we were putting some metal in the huge outside recycling bin, we both saw a bike leaning against the bin. The bike was red, an L.L. Bean bike, with a bit of rust on the handle bars but otherwise in seemingly good condition.

Clif and I looked at each, and “Shannon?” I asked. Our daughter does not have a bike, and where she lives in South Portland, there are biking opportunities galore.

“Maybe so,” Clif answered in his Yankee way.

As we looked at the bike, one of the workers stopped as he was driving by in a truck. “You want that bike?” he asked.

“I think we do,” Clif answered.

“Just stop by on the way out and pay $5.”

Five dollars? How could we go wrong? Clif took off the front wheel, and we loaded the bike in the car.

After going to the Transfer Station, we delivered returnable bottles to our friend Steve Knight, who is collecting them for his Heifer Ark Project. (His goal is to collect $6,000 in returnables.) I’ve written about Steven before, but in brief—Steve is a scrounge extraordinaire who makes it his mission to recycle and find usable “trash,” not only for himself but also for friends. Recently, he has scrounged paint for friends and wood for a chicken coop that he is certain his daughter will want to build one day. (I’m sure she will!)

Was Steve impressed with our find? You bet he was, and he slyly implied that if we weren’t vigilant, then that bike would disappear from our car while we talked with his wife, Margy.

On a more serious note, Steve also told us that when he retires in a couple of years, he wants to devote a good deal of his time to scrounging and recycling. (Right now Steve is a chemistry teacher at the high school.)

Clif and I smiled and admitted that when it came to scrounging and recycling, Steve was our mentor. I said, “We frequently ask ourselves, what would Steve do?” And I wasn’t entirely joking.

On the way home, we discussed the bike. Clif has been a biking enthusiast since he was a teenager, and repairing this bike does not daunt him at all. Our goal is to put no more than $50 into it, and if we achieve that goal, then Shannon will have a pretty good bike at a more than decent price.

Yesterday, with a merry heart, I drove to Portland to meet my friends Joan and Susan at Petite Jacqueline, where we celebrated Joan’s birthday. (Yes, I know. I’m involved in a lot of birthday celebrations. And I just love it.) The food is oh so tasty at Petite Jacqueline, and the servers let us talk long after the restaurant had closed for the afternoon. I also must admit that I have a soft spot for any restaurant that has a “Bonjour” sign at its entrance. The sign seems like a sweet little nod to the Franco-American population of the state, a population that at 30 percent is so large that it’s almost not a minority.

We talked about many things—my writing projects; Susan’s various performances—she’s a very talented actor; and Joan’s renovation of the family farm, a huge endeavor that Joan is approaching with pluck and energy. But one of the most interesting parts of the conversation was Susan’s description of getting insurance coverage through the Affordable Care Act, also sometimes known as Obamacare. (Sorry, Joan! I know how you hate that term.)

A bit of a backstory: Susan Poulin and her husband, Gordon Carlisle, are one of Maine’s power art couples. She is an actor, he is an artist, and they are able to support themselves through their work. This is a testament not only to their prodigious talent but also to their hard work and organizational skills. To say I admire them is quite an understatement.

Because they are self-employed, Susan and Gordon have had to buy their own health insurance, and for years they went with Dirigo Health, a state-sponsored plan. As with most freelancers, Susan and Gordon’s income varies, and sometimes they had to pay $500 per month for insurance while other years they had to pay as much as $900 per month, a hefty price for an actor and an artist. Quite a burden, in fact.

Now that the Affordable Care Act is in effect, Dirigo is ending, and Susan and Gordon had to change health-care plans. With the help of a certified “navigator,” Susan and Gordon successfully enrolled in the silver plan offered by the Affordable Care Act. Their new cost? $188 a month, with benefits as good as their old $500 to $900 plan.

“When I heard the price, I had tears in my eyes,” Susan admitted. “We can easily afford $188 a month.”

Her advice for people who have affordable health insurance through their work or through Medicare yet like to gripe about the Affordable Care Act? “Shut the ‘bleep’ up. You have no idea how expensive it is to buy health insurance on your own.”

Naturally, I was thrilled to hear that because of the Affordable Care Act, Susan and Gordon soon would have affordable health insurance that provided great coverage. It’s not only good for them, but it’s also good for other people who want to work for themselves. They now have the freedom to do so without worrying about the cost of health care, and it is my guess the Affordable Care Act is going to be a huge boon for artists and entrepreneurs and, in turn, for this country. Without affordable health care, there can be no freedom, no security, and this stifles creativity.

I was also thrilled for Clif and me. Clif is 6 years older than I am, and in 4 years he will be able to retire with decent if modest benefits as well as Medicare. However, I will only be 60, and I most definitely have a preexisting condition—I was diagnosed with breast cancer 3 years ago. I hated the thought of Clif having to work until he was 72 so that I could have affordable health insurance, and now he won’t have to do so.

Susan gave me permission to use her story because she wanted readers to know the good news about the Affordable Care Act. It is true that the beginning has had a rough start. Nevertheless, the good that will come from the Affordable Care Act far outweighs the bumpy start.

It is my guess that in the future, Obama (BHO?) will attain the same status as FDR and LBJ when it comes to progressive legislation that has done so much good for so many people.

Despite rough beginnings, sometimes this country does move forward.

Today is the anniversary of my father’s birthday, and if my memory is correct, he would be 80 today if he were still alive. Unfortunately, he died far too young—at 54—and enough time has passed so that my memories of him seem distant. Nevertheless, distant or not, he is still with me. Although I loved my mother very much, I was a “father’s daughter, ” with my affinities and inclinations more closely aligned with him rather than with my mom. From my father came my love of books and ideas and the life of the mind. Also the desire to grow things and the strong attachment to the natural world. Like him, I am drawn to photographing nature, and I even use the same brand of camera—a Canon.

As the Irish might put it, my father also had his little ways. Don’t all people? He could be touchy, authoritarian, and short tempered. His word was law in our house, and nobody dared go against him. When I was younger, I silently and resentfully chafed against his domineering personality. Now that I am older, and I am very much aware of my own little ways—perhaps not so unlike his—my attitude has softened. My affection for him remains strong, and I have come to appreciate all that he did for me.

Big ways. Little ways. The whole person. This post, this day, these pictures are dedicated to my father—Ronald James Meunier.