So, after some few unrelenting days of Brutal Heat (for Maine values of “Brutal”) and Unavoidable Stress, yesterday was called for mid-to-high-70F/21C, and sunny. Steve and I looked at each other and said, more or less in unison, “You wanna get out of the house?”
We determined to head for Old Orchard Beach and adjust course as seemed good. We did arrive at Old Orchard, but it was one of those windless days when the sea was as exciting as water in a bathtub, so we got back in the car and went to survey Camp Ellis, which, though still showing the considerable scars from the last storm has taken on the Mantle of Summer. People were on the beach (such beach as Camp Ellis has ever lain claim to), people were sailing, and fishing and doing Normal Summer Things. You’d almost come to believe that the Camp would survive the next storm, and the one after that, too.
On our way out of the Camp, we saw the sign for Seaside Pottery, and, being in need of pottery, we turned right. The shop was closed, to open at 2 pm, so we got back in the car and headed for Wells.
The sea was much more satisfactory at Wells; there was a brisk breeze off the ocean and high tide was proceeding with vigor. We stood on the seawall for a while, with about a hundred other people who had come from such far flung places as Massachusetts, New Jersey, Iowa, and Colorado, to overlook the ocean at Wells. I took a small walk into town and did a Tourist Tour of the nearby gift shops. We’ve been going to Wells for years and years, and I’ve never been inside one of those shops, though we have had lunch and ice cream at the town landing.
We headed back to Old Orchard Beach, keeping a sharp out eye for pottery shops. We didn’t find any, though there are a lot of antique shops on Route One. Holy cow, are there a lot of antique shops on Route One.
We stopped at the Maine Diner for lunch, and I continued the tourist theme by buying a t-shirt. After, we continued up Route One and I. . .bought a white sea rose (rosa rugosa*, to you) at Wallingford Farm, and as soon as I finish this blog post, I’ll be taking myself to the back yard to dig a hole.
We came back to Camp Ellis to find Seaside Pottery open, and spent some time with Renie, the potter, and Cooper, her English spaniel. Sadly, we were not able to do business, and continued back up-coast to Old Orchard Beach, where we fed a parking meter a handful of quarters and went to pay our respects to the sea, which had decided that bathwater wasn’t a good look on it, and brought in some wind and waves. After our visit, we headed to Pine Point, and eventually to I95 toward home.
We did stop at the Maine Center for the Arts at the Gardiner exit, pottery still on our minds, and gathered the cards of several who had their wares on the shelves. I bought an art tile coaster for my desk; Steve bought chive vinegar and blueberry gingerbread mix, and honey tea in a jar (not quite sure how that works). There was very interesting Spanish-language music playing, and I tried to buy the CD, but was told by one of the counterfolk that they were listening to Cuban Radio Pandora, which I’m listening to as I write this.
So, that’s it! Today, I dig a hole, and fill it halfway with water, according to the instructions received at Wallingford Farm. When the water recedes, I put fertilizer mixed with sand in the bottom of the hole, then the rose bush.
I also need to make some phone calls, and possibly go
into town to the end of the road, to do some banking. Oh, and also, write.
We really, really need to remember to take a day off to do silly, frivolous stuff every week. *makes a note*
. . .and that’s all I’ve got.
Hope everyone’s having a good week.
* Burpee Seeds on Rugosa Roses I especially like: “Rugosa roses require little care and thrive on neglect.”