Of course, since we were in Bangor, we had to drive by Stephen King’s house.

You can’t really see them in the picture, but all along the top of the wrought iron fence Stephen has all sort of iron dragons and monsters sitting in sinister locations.

Then, on the way to Jonesport we took a short cut through miles and miles of blueberry fields–blueberries grow very well in Maine!

Once we got to Jonesport, which is a small town primarily focused on fishing, we hopped on the boat and headed to Norton Island.

Norton Island is about a mile offshore from Jonesport. Here’s a pic of Norton Island’s East Camp as we pulled in on the boat. In the picture, you can see some writing workshop folks (who arrived before we did) standing down on the dock and some folks standing at the top of the stairs leading up from the dock. Beside these people at the top you can see the golf cart and Mule people use to drive around with, and then in the background you can see the East Camp lodge itself.

Here’s a pic of just inside the East Camp lodge, in the dining room. Everyone attending the workshop has by now arrived, and we are all seated around the table (a few folks are off camera). Tom (standing) is giving us an intro to the workshop, how the cabins work, how the meals work, etc. You can see the front door that leads out onto a big porch. Behind the counter in the lower left corner is the kitchen, and behind Tom are two doors leading to the rest of the main level (a den area + two bedrooms, a hall with 2 bunk beds, a washroom, and two bathrooms). Behind Tom there is also a set of stairs that leads to an upstairs bedroom.

And here’s an example of the trail we use to get to and from the East or West Camp lodge buildings and our cabins.

You take the trail (flashlights are, indeed, your best companion here) to get to your cabin. Here’s the outside of my cabin.

And here’s the inside.

***

Norton Island Writers Workshop post series:

• Pre-arrival
• Arrival
• Day 1
• Day 2
• Day 3
• Day 4
• Day 5
• Departure

Related Posts:

• Norton Island Writers Workshop: Departure
• Norton Island Writers Workshop: Day 5
• Norton Island Writers Workshop: Day 4
• Norton Island Writers Workshop: Day 3
• Norton Island Writers Workshop: Day 2

I chatted with a farmer today. He’s probably around 80 years old, has a grip like iron, wears a hat and overalls, and has a bad back that aches him in the mornings, around noon, in the afternoon, and before going to bed. But every day he’s up before dawn (“I got up this morning before breakfast,” he said with a wink), tending the cows and chickens, then working the fields, then getting everything ready for the next day. One of his eyes don’t see too good no more, and he can’t really hear unless you holler at him. And his old tractor–always breaking down, always something to fix on it. He drives up and down the roads in an old beat-up truck that emits a little too much exhaust, but the engine keeps on going with a steady thumpa-thumpa-thumpa. You know when he’s coming because no one else drives that slowly, but the dogs bark and wag their tails when they see him.

He tells me I should get me a horse, one about ten years old. Don’t get one of them high-spirited ones though–you want to be able to ride them, and the high-spirited ones, you can’t even get the bridle on them sometimes. Why, he knew someone who gave co-cola to their horses twice a day, once at ten in the morning and once at two in the afternoon, and that’ll make your horse jumpy. You can’t ride them if they are too jumpy. You know how they do.

I expect that ten years from now he’ll still be working the fields, driving the same old truck, keeping the same old tractors running (at least to make it through the summer), and checking in with his neighbors now and then, usually on Sundays. And he’ll probably still be holding his bad back while leaning against the fence, looking out at his cows and surveying all the work he’s done that day. I expect too that after surveying his work, he’ll then head on inside and take his boots off, a little more slowly and with more effort than he used to. Then he’ll wash up for supper, kiss his wife–on her lips if she’s awake, on her cheek if she’s nodded off in her chair–then rest a spell before heading to bed, so he can get up early for the next day’s work.

And that sounds wonderful to me.

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I thought about this as I walked around our yard today. There were mushrooms everywhere–big ones, flat ones, brown ones, white ones, red ones, spotted ones, puffy ones. So I grabbed my camera and below are some pics, just so you can get a sense of what I saw.

But then I thought, wow, those elves must have had a really great party last night.

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As many suspect, it’s turtles all the way down.

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The first pic shows two cats in the tree–not too unusual except they were pretty high up. One is facing away, but you should be able to spot both of them.

The second pic shows a baby possum. The photo is not that good because the little guy could really climb, and the closer I got, the higher in the tree he got. Also, it was in the woods, so I had to play with the brightness and contrast so you would actually see him due to the dim/weird lighting. Really just a little fluff ball on the side of a tree. But I think you can make out his face. I think he’s saying, “I’m scared. Go away, please.”

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Related Posts:

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Oh, but look at those eyes!

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I just got word that a short story I wrote got accepted to The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature Journal.

I’ll let everyone know when it comes out!

Woop!

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Here’s a short video of what I saw on the porch:

Ya, that’s a hungry possum. What I think is funny is the audio of him eating — crunching away.

I guess now I shouldn’t make the cats feel so guilty for eating so much food…

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After this visit, I can see why.

The city has a small town feel—folks are friendly and the prices right—yet there are enough residents to attract significant shops and businesses.

The views are excellent, and it is easy to hop from island to island to mainland, as whim may call.

All in all, it was a very fun trip, and a place I am looking forward to visiting again.

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