It's noisy here. Day and night we're surrounded by the notable din of crickets rubbing and rubbing endlessly. You wake in the morning to the sound, and in the evening it's just as strong. It never lets up. In Los Angeles as a child I was used to the crickets starting up at night, but I am surprised by their tenacity here. It's not bothersome, just notable as the soundtrack of our days in Maine.
We had a simple breakfast and got right to work. After raising a few mornings at the lazy hour of 9am (which, I might point out, is 6am at home) we've started setting an alarm for 7 to get more of the day in. I made coffee and we dug into to our writing work.
Today our goal was to lunch at this little cafe named Lily's that has a miniature farmer's market out back to sell the organic produce that they don't use. Being a fan of locally grown fresh produce, I was all for it, but sadly after driving there we discovered they were closed for vacation all week.
Dejected, we decided to drive a road out to a corner of the island we haven't explored to see if there was anything out there. One thing that we know is out there is the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, and we were hoping for a small cafe. A 20 minute drive showed us some nice parts of the island we've not seen, but alas no places to eat.
We decided to drag the tiny town of Deer Isle to see if we could locate a place to eat that wasn't the Whales Rib, and sure enough, the little ice cream parlor had sandwiches, so we had a chicken salad sandwich and more of the great New England onion rings.
A walk across the street to the Periwinkle for the days New York Times, and then we drove into Stonington to use the library's wireless. Imagine our surprise when the the library was only open three days a week, and Monday was not one of those days. We sat in the car out front, and I was able to get on the free wireless, and update the blog and download email. Mom couldn't, because her laptop battery is dead and mine died just as I was finishing what I needed to do.
We made burritos for dinner after another afternoon of writing, and watched a bit of tv before heading off to bed to read. I was eagerly turning pages in Moby Dick. Ishmail and Queequeg signed on board a three year trip aboard the Pequod. I'd wish them good luck, but I'm afraid something dire is coming. The crickets are calling it out with every chirp.
Posted by: Martin McClellan
On the date of: September 12, 2005 05:30 AM