September 10, 2023

Good morning!

It’s Sunday—and here in my corner of Maine, it’s a very special Sunday.

We’re sitting at a picnic table overlooking the Bagaduce, a tidal river that feeds into Penobscot Bay. The air smells of salt water, low tide, and such a specific aroma of fryolator that I could pinpoint our location even if you blindfolded me. It’s one of the earliest smells I can remember.

The fragrance and picnic tables have been features of this spot since it opened as a roadside shack, named after this river, in 1946. It’s such an iconic institution that it, instead of the calendar, defines summer on our peninsula.

When they open in late May, summer is officially here. And on the fateful Sunday in early September, the day they close for the season, summer officially ends. Forget what the almanac might say, this is the last day of summer. And what a beautiful day it is. The whole town is here, and more people keep coming.

I’ve grabbed us a table in the shade. While we wait for our meal, shall we watch the tide go out together?

“The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order.”

― Eudora Welty

Onwards,

Clara

p.s.—You can also watch the video via this link.

p.p.s.—Oh! By the way…

There was a fisherman named Fisher
who fished for some fish in a fissure.
Till a fish with a grin,
pulled the fisherman in.
Now they’re fishing the fissure for Fisher.