Notes from Maine - 2026/05/26
My sister is coming up today. It’s a little chilly right now for the typical summer activities she enjoys. The Maine weather can’t decide if it wants to be early summer or late winter. I’m sure she’ll find plenty to keep her occupied. I can’t help but wonder if this will be her only “summer” trip up here this year. Her son is going off to college in August, and it seems like that will take a lot of time and energy. Maybe I’m wrong though—maybe she’ll come up again. Mom almost made the trip with her. I think Mom gave it serious consideration.
Everyone I know travels. I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve lost the knack for traveling. I have so many things to do around here that leaving for more than eight hours takes a decent amount of planning and preparation that I’m just not willing to do. I spent difficult years trying to find my place in the world, and then even more attempting to make this house into what I needed it to be. The last thing I want to do is leave.
That said, I went to a gallery opening last night. It’s a brand new exhibit room—a small space in the woods. The grounds are dotted with amazing plants. The landscaping looks both improvised by nature and also perfectly planned. I saw a few people I remember, but I don’t recall exactly where I’ve met them before.
The exhibit was complex and intriguing. Nola Parker (the exhibit was solely Nola’s work) creates landscape and closeup nature paintings with vibrant colors. They’re semi-abstract and almost have a folk lean.
The group of paintings in this show had closed, almost claustrophobic scenes. I got the impression that Nola was showing us secret places that you might find after a long day’s hike. They weren’t cultivated or conquered places. Nature was running wild in the scenes, barely contained by the canvas. In Nola’s compositions, you never feel like you can see all the way to the horizon. You’re held close by the world around you. The plants were rendered with large shapes of color—a collage of leaves. Then, often in the left corner, you were treated to fine-lined details that brought the shapes into focus.
When I got home, everyone was fine. Albert waited, looking through the window, until I came through the door. The horses met me at the back deck to remind me that they hadn’t received any hay in hours and hours. The pasture hasn’t grown enough to support them on grass alone, so we’re still supplementing with hay. They’re outside most of the time right now, enjoying the last of the mostly bug-free weather. Soon, they’ll take refuge in the barn during the daylight hours when the biting flies are out. Summer will come, like it always does.
I just got a call from my sister. Her flight was easy and arrived early. She should be here in about thirty minutes. I supposed I should finish my chores and be ready to greet my visitors.
