Notes from Maine - 2025/06/15
This day, fifty years ago, would have been the absolute worst. We have bright sun, puffy clouds, it’s in the upper 60s (about 20º C), and there’s a decent breeze. Back then I wanted the weather to be scorching hot so I could run down to the dock and spend all day jumping in the lake and swimming. It was horrible to wake up to bright sunshine only to find out that it’s too chilly to swim. If you jumped in the water, you’d have to wrap up in a towel and shiver until you were dry.
But now this kind of day is perfect.
The horses have been turned out. They’re still hanging around the barn. There’s no urgency for them to get anything done. The breeze is keeping most of the bugs at bay and there are still scraps of hay here and there to find. This week the whole family has been turned out together. Lilly (little filly) was wary of her giant lumbering father at first (Earl - shire horse). She stuck close to her mom (Maybelle - spotted draft) those first few days.
Maybe it was because Earl was so on edge. The first time he was turned out with his family he sprinted to every corner of the pasture, snorting and puffing. He scanned the woods, convinced that there might be danger coming. He was ready to protect the herd against every imagined enemy. Of course his band doesn’t have actual enemies, so he was putting on a show for nobody. Eventually he ran back into the barn, where I was doing chores. Earl rushed into his stall and let out a big breath, hiding for a moment from his new responsibilities. I try not to anthropomorphize horse behavior, but it was pretty clear that Earl had to adjust to his new role of guarding Maybelle and Lilly. After a minute or two he went back outside and was much calmer. Maybelle was undisturbed by the whole event. Lilly watched it all with wide eyes.
All that drama is well behind us now. The herd stays together for the most part. Sometimes Lilly goes back to the barn to nap in the shade. Maybelle and Earl take turns watching over her. It’s a joy to watch the tiny family interact. If I go out into the pasture, Lilly will run over to get a scratch. Her wooly fur is starting to shed out for the summer. When Earl wanders over to see if I have a carrot, Lilly might pin her ears back and nip at his nose. She doesn’t want to share the scratches. Maybelle does her own thing. She has sole custody of the baby all night and is happy to graze unencumbered while Lilly is exploring during the day. Eventually, Lilly will look around for her mom. If she whinnies, Maybelle will find her.
Albert (dog) is on the porch with me this morning. He’s studying the neighbors who are welding something across the way. It might be the front end of a trailer. I can’t tell. They might just be using the trailer as a platform for what they’re really working on. Whenever they shout to each other, Albert is all ears. I don’t know what he expects to discern. The neighbors are about 100 yards away (90m), so it’s impossible to tell what they’re saying. And, frankly, Albert’s vocabulary isn’t that big anyway. So, unless they’re talking about “Friend,” “Frisbee,” “Bone,” or “Treat,” I can’t imagine why the conversation is so fascinating to Albert.
I’m not sure what I’ll do with the day. I’m in one of those periods where I have a ton of long-term projects and no immediate deadlines, so I’ve been wandering through tasks, engaging in what interests me. That kind of approach is mentally stimulating—I can always find something fascinating to learn or discover—but it can also feel unproductive at times. I don’t have a good gauge on progress. I’ll set some artificial deadlines. That will pull me back on track.
I took one of my unpublished books and fed it through AI the other day. Chapter by chapter it summarized plot, character development, theme, and pace. I found some areas to tighten and ideas that needed polish. The process creates insights because it holds a mirror up to your words and allows you to see them from a fresh perspective. The AI doesn’t come into the project with any of my history and bias. It’s only responding to the work on the page. The jury is out on how helpful it is. In the end, almost all of the feedback is positive, even if you ask it to be critical. The answer to, “Is this section necessary?” is universally an emphatic yes. Critical evaluation is not the top priority. Engagement is. It’s going to get more engagement from praise than anything else.
