By Doug Wright
I had two special pleasures yesterday. First, my nephew, David Morton Jr., stopped by to show me his new baby named Caleb. He is 3 weeks old. I am sending a photo of us. Me: 74. You can tell who is who! I am his great, great, great, great uncle Dougie.
The second pleasure yesterday was falling asleep while listening to the rain on the skylight windows. Just pure pleasure. I could hear the grass and gardens sighing as they were sucking it up. The earthworms are very happy this morning. The trees seem to have a special glisten to their leaves today.
I have been annoyed this week though by the political machinations concerning the proposed national monument. I am particularly annoyed by U.S. Rep. Chellie Pingree’s presumptions in her letter to the president that most Mainers supported the idea. Nobody asked me. It isn’t even in her district.
Besides, I can’t help having suspicions about who is ultimately going to benefit from waiting while a black fly-ridden, cut-over wasteland turns back into a virgin Maine forest?
Patchy Dog cornered a giant woodchuck, killed it, and took it off somewhere to bury it. This morning, though, something came out of the woods and scared the hell out my flock. Patch Dog was set loose upon it. He came back an hour later looking like he had been through the mill.
Well, got to take this to the papah and get some things at the Yellowfront. Hope you like the photo.
(Doug Wright lives over Head Tide Hill in Whitefield. He welcomes feedback at firstname.lastname@example.org.)