A successful Memorial Day

... defined here as plunging into freezing water and having a cheeseburger loaded with pickles.

 

Yes, that is the real color, and not an Instagram trick.

Jake helping me get ready to float in the mighty freezing Niagara. 

 Evan fetching the drink I left all the way down the stairs on the boat. 
These boys sure know how to treat a pregnant lady.

It was a hot, hot Memorial Day (90ish?) spent cooling off in the breeze of the Niagara River in Lewiston, catching up with one of our oldest Buffalo friends, now living in L.A. but home for holiday weekend. We decided not to actually take the boat out, but instead just hung out down on the dock. But I had to get in the water. Had to. Those who know me well know that this is really beyond my control - like a sickness.

Evan does not share my hydroholic tendencies, especially when the water in question is, say, below 70 degrees (admittedly, I have no idea what water temperature is considered comfortable by normal people, as you'll see).

Getting in the water involved a particularly ungraceful flop from the back of the boat, clutching onto a floatation device (see above) and then paddling with one arm back to the boat to hang on. 

There was no actual swimming involved - just a jarring mild paralysis as I waited for things to go a little numb, and then shimmied myself to a position where my belly fit into the tube's hole, with my backside basking in the sun and my front side freezing in the water. (One of my favorite things ever.)

It was the closest approximation that I have felt anywhere in Western New York to the frigid Maine ocean that I love and miss so wildly. I think Jake's dad said it was about 55 degrees, which I do know most normal people would find unpleasant, but I find - honest to god - refreshing.

We ended the day attempting to assuage a fierce craving with an epic journey through the 'burbs for the dinner of champions - cheeseburgers at Five Guys.  I suggested we suck it up and brave the mall location, so that at least we could maybe swing into the Children's Place to use a coupon on something - maybe pick out our first baby outfit together? (we both lack the obsessive baby clothing gene), to make the trip feel a little more justified. We got to the mall around 7 pm to find it closed, and proceeded to trek up Transit Ave to the other Five Guys, meaning that we probably spent more money on gas to get there than we did on the meal itself.

You see, Five Guys is one of just a few places in Buffalo where I can get a burger loaded with pickles actually on the burger. Maybe you are from a place where that doesn't seem like a big deal, like me. A place where getting pickles on your burger doesn't mean having to take the pickle spear they give you on the side, slice it crudely with your butter knife, and stick the ill fitting pieces onto the burger, constantly poking them back into place as they try to escape with every bite.

OH - and riddle me this - if you buy a hotdog from a hotdog stand around here, you can almost always get pickles on it. Whaaat? Seriously, Western New York - what gives? So, yes, I guess you could say this is a peeve of mine, and that the availability of pre-sliced pickles (regardless of their caliber) has pretty much become my benchmark for a good burger 'round here. 

*End of pickle rant. * (for now)

October in Maine

{ So mad at myself that this post has been sitting in draft form for at least two months! I could have forgiven myself if I had at least posted it in the same season that I started it in, but seeing how we now appear to be officially in the throws of winter here in Buffalo (still, only a dusting of powder from the last "weather advisory"), I am having a hard time pretending this is in any way a timely, relevant post. So I won't. But I'd still like to share it. :) }

Our Coastal Rt. 1 road trip in October! We so rarely indulge in this meandering, slow but beautiful route from point A to point B, but it being fall, and the traffic being not so terrible as summertime, we embraced it, and I am so glad we did. 

"Are we there yet?"

Foggy and cool on top of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park, Bar Harbor, Maine. 

Evan's mom picking tomatoes and other veggies from her garden. 

Old Bucksport Bridge.

This was the first time we'd been back for a Fall Maine visit in several years. The first half of the trip was cool and drizzly - and I loved every minute of it. 

As the passenger I could take in all of the things I may have taken for granted growing up in Maine, but deeply appreciate in a heart-aching kind of way now - things I could not demand that we stop to take pictures of, because we only had a week and not months....

Lush, foggy green hills that were just starting to show hints of orange. 

Countless old, white homes with cedar shingle barns straight out of a tourist postcard. 

Steep, steep hills with covered bridges at the bottom. 

Expansive, rolling, delightfully purposeless fields. 

Maple trees. 

Stone walls aplenty - some neatly stacked, some like heaps of tumbling rock. 

The smell of wet pine, covered in cold drizzle. 

Willow trees.

Chippy white picket fences. 

Windy creeks running along the road and into the woods. 

Small brick elementary schools. 

Gingerbread trim. 

Old, old graveyards with crooked, humble tombstones. 

Public squares fenced in with split rail fences. 

Road signs warning you that an area is "thickly settled." (a favorite)

White steepled congregational churches. 

Old, slanting houses. 

Skinny birches and aspens. 

Victorian farm houses with front porches and deep front yards and serious acreage. 

Alpaca farms, bails of hay and rolling pastures. 

Railroad tracks through the woods - the kind I used to cross country ski with my mom on. 

Tall, skinny, pointy pine trees peeking out of colorful oaks and maples. 

Gorgeous marshland on both sides of the road, cattails everywhere. 

Horses in a field with apple trees.

Gigantic felled trees covered in moss, surrounded by ferns. 

Red leaves against bright green lichen. 

Sumac trees.

Boulder fields with sheep that make you think you are in Scotland. 

Cedar shingled homes with porches with blue ceilings.

Someday, if and when bigger budgets allow, I'd like to take a lazy, unrushed, meandering trip along Route One to check out all of the numerous antique stores, thrift stores, hooked rug studios, craft co-ops, the Swans Island blanket shop in Northport and the Windsor chairmakers in Lincolnville. But the memories and gift of taking in all these sights that I once took for granted is still better than any blanket, rug, chair or trinket that I could bring home.

But I won't lie, I was psyched to have found this bittersweet wreath being sold along side the road to bring home with me, and these few trinkets from Bar Harbor. 

A disclaimer: Lest you be from Maine, and find yourself thinking that I have sugarcoated my observations, or turned a blind eye to all that is less than beautiful - I assure you I did not, and could never. But I will admit to only including those images leaving positive and/or nostalgic impressions. Edited out: dozens of prefab modular homes, tarpaper shacks, aggressive pick up trucks spray painted camouflage ... among other "less pretty" things. I feel compelled to bring it up as I find myself reading - with increasing squeamishness - blog after blog touting Maine's magic and hipness, knowing that there is a lot left out of the picture: generations of poverty, hard, hard living, and plenty of ugliness - just like anywhere else. My roots touching down to some of the harsher realities of Maine living, I struggle with the over-romanticism sometimes. 

Ah, Maine. You're complicated, but that's why I love you. 

souvenirs from Bar Harbor

Whenever we go to Bar Harbor, Maine, I always hope for one rainy morning or afternoon that I can justify spending time playing tourist, poking around in the shops downtown by myself. Non-rainy days are spent strolling with the dogs or biking through the carriage trails, hiking, ocean absorbing, and in the summer, swimming. (More on all of those less consumer driven activities in another post.)

This trip gave me several rainy days to choose from. Evan's family (our hosts) has become increasingly wary of "going into town" over the past several years, now that Bar Harbor has become a cruise ship destination. I can't say I blame them. Every time my eyes try to register their gargantuan presence in the quaint port, my first reaction is a mortified "What the hell is THAT?"

Bar Harbor's quaint, lovely little port. 

This is bad enough...

...but this is just disgusting. Can you see the pretty little sailboat in the foreground, completely dwarfed by the cruise ship?

Photos taken last summer.

So I shouldn't have been surprised at how bustling all the shops were on a dreary, cool day in October - apparently, thanks to the cruise ships, tourist season is longer these days than in the past. While tourism dollars make coastal Maine's world go round, negotiating herds of some of the slowest moving people on earth as they try to hunt down the cheapest lobstah in town (whether to eat on a roll, buy splayed across a souvenir t-shirt, or cast in rubber ... and yes, the tourists like to pronounce it as they think every Maine native would) is an exhausting exercise for "natives". If it weren't for the Hannaford grocery store, and handful of other necessary services located downtown, most natives probably wouldn't set foot downtown anytime from Memorial Day through the end of October.

For the most part, shops in downtown Bar Harbor are crammed with mostly the same stuff, crammed with people mostly looking for the same types of souvenirs. There are a few exceptions though, and In the Woods (located at 160 Main Street) may be my favorite. The first thing you notice when you walk in the shop is the awesome smell of unadulterated cut wood, and then how soothing and aesthetically pleasing the shop is as a whole. 

It is not crammed full of stuff, and shoppers have plenty of space to take everything in. It feels like you are exploring the wood shop in someone's house - a perfectly rustic and cozy house with lots of exposed brick and, of course, wood. The kind of place that you want to pad around in a pair of Acorn slipper socks, sipping hot cider or mulled wine by the fire before retiring to a cold but cozy bedroom scattered with braided rugs, with an antique iron framed bed covered in layers and layers of heavy quilts... you get the idea.

There are bins of simple carved wood trinkets and doodads -

 - and shelves of adorable children's toys. I wanted to snatch up these wooden lobster boats for my niece and all of my friends' children. But alas, the unemployment budget fairy on my shoulder whispered "Next year, Amanda, next year."

 

They also have a well curated collection of interesting imported items.

Beautiful decorated washboards from China.

Baskets from Pakistan.

Cozy Hazara socks from Pakistan.

Wooden print blocks - not sure where from.

It is the only store I visit downtown where I have to exercise serious willpower. I walked around with a very reasonably priced, locally crafted paddle style bread board for a long time before deciding that I could live without it until next summer/fall when we return.

What I could not pass up were the hand shaped and etched antique brass lassi cups from India, ranging in price from $20-24 (I had never seen them before, but my instincts told me this was a fair price - confirmed when I looked them up online and found them being sold here and here, starting at $50 a piece). They are no longer considered food safe, but I thought they would make gorgeous flower vases. I bought two of them (rationalizing that they were unlikely to be there next season), seen here at home with some cuttings from one of our hydrangea bushes.

Here are some other shops downtown worth checking out, among the dozens of run of the mill tourist shops and shops carrying goods most people can get back home (my rule for a souvenir is either that it was crafted by someone locally, or that I cannot easily get it back home):

 Island Artisans
Spruce & Gussy
Albert Meadow Antiques
Bar Harbor Brewing Company
Bar Harbor Book Shop
Window Panes
Macey's

For any readers who have been to Bar Harbor, what are some of your favorite shops?