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Winter Takes One More Slap At Amity
May 16 and 17, 2007

It is definitely Maine weather, 80 degrees one week and snows the next. Just when you thought it might be safe to finally shed the long johns, a look out the window quickly changed that opinion as huge snowflakes drifted by the windows on Wednesday. Waking up to a winter wonderland Thursday morning was not exactly what we all had in mind after temperatures in the low 80’s a week or so before. The poor little Hummingbirds that arrived last week do not seem too thrilled either. They greedily lined up at the feeders I have out on Wednesday, but I was dismayed to

Read more: Winter 2007

I went out on the front steps, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand; to greet the sun as it arose this morning. It has been missing for several days now. I, in turn, am greeted by a raucous cacophony of sound. It seems as if all the birds are singing their hearts out after a long winter of silence. Stopping to bask for a moment in the rising sun's warm rays, I strain my ears to hear each different song and peer into the trees to see how many of my feathered friends have come for breakfast at the feeders, which hang just

Read more: Spring Bird Song

Sunday we received our first snow; large clumps of wet flakes fell from the leaden sky as I watched out the window. I felt like shutting the curtains so I would not have to look at it, yet my eyes were compelled to continue staring dismally at the lazily falling flakes. I know this snow will not stay; it is only the harbinger of much more to come in the winter ahead. It does remind me I should check our winter stores to be sure we are ready for the long cold months ahead.

Read more: Ready for Winter

Pneuma is a Rotty little boy and when he was about 7 months old, he saved his family. Pneuma came to live on the farm with our family when he was about 4 months old. He was a happy playful pup. He loves his big doggy brothers, Little Fur and Knot, and big sister Esli Jane. They love to jump and play in the fluffy white snow outside. They play “King of the Hill” on the big snow banks. Sometimes they just like running through the deep snow, plowing a wide path and sending great clouds of sparkling snowflakes flying up into the air. Wintertime is fun for our dogs.


I went down to the pheasant pen and found something I have been waiting for; I was beginning to give up hope because it is so late in the summer. I've never had chicks hatch the first week of August before.

These eight are a week old now and are a very happy lively bunch. I found them scattered around the house and Momma bird was sitting back on the rest of the unhatched eggs. She wanted nothing to do with the wiggling little peepers. Two of them were very cold and barely moving or breathing. I scooped them up in the front of my t-shirt and held them close to my heart to start warming them. I remember, Grandmother, how you used to pick them up in your apron when you still lived on the farm.


In the early 1980's while, I was living in the Sanford area, Pet Therapy was just in its beginning stages. I was the owner of a kennel/animal shelter and I heard about the Therapy Dog program through some of the publications that came to the kennel and was immediately intrigued. I also have a handicapped child and had noticed how petting and brushing the dogs would sooth her when she was upset over things in her life that were out of her control. Living quite a distance from my family was hard on her because before we had moved she had a very close relationship with her grandparents.

Read more: Pet Therapy

Yep, some of us do live in the willie-wags of Maine, way up next to the Canadian border in a little town called Amity. Its name means peace and goodwill. I tell folks if they want to find me they have to drive to the edge of the world (the end of Interstate 95), take a right and drive about 15 miles south on Route 1. You turn onto an unmarked dirt road, go about three miles straight into the woods, and turn left; you can't miss us. My favorite place is home.

Read more: Home is Best

It was so long ago that I really don't remember which one of us neighborhood kids made up the game. I think it started as a dare and turned into a game we played as often as we could. Who was the bravest? It was thrilling and scary and if you didn't play the game right; it was very dangerous. We were just little kids, and all of our parents forbid us to play the game because they knew one of us could be killed. Killed for being the winner.

Read more: The GAME!!!

D.T. Does Not Always Mean Double Trouble!

Meeting D.T. was chance, coincidence, or fate; I really am not sure which one to blame. I was grocery shopping and had run into my friend, Jean. She was shopping with her sister, Jane, who was up and staying at the lake for the summer. Jane was quite a bit younger than Jean and always the tag-a-long little sister. Jane had a little boy about 7 or 8-years old, and a little girl of about 4. I asked about the children, Jane just gushed over “her” little girl, on and on she went. Meanwhile the little boy was standing apart looking down at the floor. I asked about him; “Oh him,” she replied, “He's from “my” husband,

Read more: Double Trouble

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