Cadillac Mountain
Northwest Montana has huckleberries and cherries, Florida has oranges and bananas, Hawaii and Oregon seem to have everything, and I discovered Maine is known for blueberries. Recently a friend of my wife gave us peaches she grew locally. I didn’t know peaches could be grown here but they can, and they were exceptional, so I ate two. If a climate has a growing season at all, or a greenhouse, and someone tries hard enough, fruit can be grown almost anywhere.
I’d imagined visiting Maine since I was a kid. I don’t remember why I thought about Maine so much. We didn’t have family there or any ancestral roots as far as I knew, but it always felt like a place I’d like. The geography looked familiar with the perfect merge of sprawling forests and island range mountains like where I grew up, but different too because it flanks an ocean. Around this same time, I discovered images of New Zealand and decided that was another place I wanted to visit, or live, because it looked familiar too. The landscape was magical, especially panoramas of Milford Sound. Our daughter lived and worked on a farm in Kati Kati on the north island during her spring break one year, so I learned a little about their culture and daily life through some of her stories.
We flew to Maine three summers ago for my wife’s aunt’s birthday and mini family reunion. We spent most of our time in and around Bar Harbor with big ocean views, good food, biking, and hikes to Bar Island at low tide, and on the smooth granite of Cadillac Mountain. A few from our group even saw Martha Stewart and her entourage walking through the nearby arboretum. I was taking a nap at the hotel that afternoon, so I missed her. Along with blueberries, there’s a lot of talk about lobster in Maine as well. It’s on the menu in most bars and restaurants like The Lobster Pound, or a quieter place like where we were. It’s a frequent ingredient in rolls, salads, and pastas, or the entire thing can be steaming on a plate. Eating them whole is messy and complicated, so it requires plastic bibs, paper towels, and special utensils. During her birthday dinner, no one had the entire thing on their plate. Our long table was covered with a white cloth, entrees, baskets of bread, olives, cheese, cocktails, clusters of flickering candles, blueberries, with overlapping conversations, and my wife’s aunt sitting next to me.
For Hyang Ja
Songs :: Hejira by Joni Mitchell, Embryonic Journey by Jefferson Airplane, Home At Last by Steely Dan, and Big Light by Houses
© C. Davidson