Notes from Maine - 2020/06/26
Last summer, we had a lot of storms that never materialized. I would check my phone, waiting for the promised thunderstorm, and the percentages drop lower and lower as the day progressed. Eventually the little lightning icon would go away, and then we would end up with no rain at all. I hate that. There’s nothing better than a good summer thunderstorm, in my opinion.
I like the way the rain cuts through the summer heat. I like the way the clouds seem to give off their own gray light. With that light, it’s almost like you can see through things. The electricity in the air is my favorite part. It comes from nowhere.
When I see a storm on my weather app, I plan my day around it. I want to make sure that everything is done and I can sit out on my front porch to watch the rain come down.
We’ve had one good storm this year so far and they’re predicting something for this weekend. I can’t wait.
When I was a kid, on vacation in Maine, there were two kinds of rainy days. If you woke up to low clouds and a chill, it was going to be a bad scene. Those were the days that our parents would load us into the station wagon and we would go down to Hallowell to look at antiques. Ugh. One store had old tin windup toys, but they were too fragile and expensive for us to even touch. My brother discovered that there was a place on the north end of town where you could buy a sack of French fries for a couple of quarters. They were fried in peanut oil that would soak through the bag.
What was the name of that place? I know there was Damon’s in Augusta, and a Dame-Whip on the other side of the circle. Maybe the name of the store in Hallowell was Whipper’s? My brother would scrape together enough change and he would sneak off to get those fries. I don’t think I was old enough to buy my own, so I would try to get him to buy me some too.
I asked him the name of the place. He said he doesn’t remember the name—he only knew it by sight and smell. My parents agonized over a roll top desk one year. Dad earned his law degree in night school, so he had a better job, but we still didn’t have money to throw around on antiques. They looked at that roll top desk two years in a row. It was a gem. Lightly distressed from years of use, it would have been perfect with a little love. I believe that those stores used to carefully clean old furniture until it looked about 90% perfect. Prospective buyers could whisper to each other about how they would increase the value of the piece with just a little elbow grease.
Mom and Dad never bought the desk. Decades later, still obsessed, my father bought a new roll top desk out of ubiquitous 1990s pale oak. He was never satisfied with it.
The second type of rainy days were good. On those days, it would be hot and still in the morning and the big towers of clouds would build just after lunch. Mid-afternoon, the clouds would block out the sun and the wind would start to whip the maple trees. Those storms brought inches of rain in a matter of minutes. Sometimes, hail would clatter off the roof and driveway and send everyone scurrying away from the windows. As soon as the storm was gone, I would rush down to the lake to see the weird fog clinging to the surface of the water. If you were brave enough to slip into a bathing suit, you would find that the top few inches of the lake were cold but the depths were like a warm embrace.
When I was a kid, it seemed like I could stay underwater forever. There was no need to breathe at all. The book I’m sending you today is about another place where I found comfort in nature’s grip. I used to love to explore limestone caves. This book, Inhabited, is about an unpleasant mine/cave. I hope you like it. I’m also offering a brand new book, Factions. If you’re looking for something new to read, I hope you give it a shot.
