Day 1. Or: the first post, which belongs in a pot of gumbo.


Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum), Chinook Mine North, Indiana

I have had more than one person ask me if I blog, and the answer is always the same: no. Evidently I need to update that answer from here on out. I always wonder: why would I? What would I have to say that millions of other people across the globe don’t have to say? And then I realize this is my life, and the experiences and viewpoints are different from those of anyone else, because I am unique. Like everyone else.

I blogged back in the days of MySpace (anyone remember Tom?), and that ended like a tire fire. Everyone was hot, and the flames are still smoldering. Lesson One of the Internet: if you don’t want to start a family war, keep your opinions to yourself. Those that are unflattering, obnoxious, or even general, because even the most innocuous musings can and will be used against you.

So what is the purpose here? Mostly to keep track of myself, I think. I am inside my own head a lot, and perhaps spewing here will invite some to share in my thoughts, maybe give a giggle, provide a recipe. I give fair warning that I swear like a sailor six months out to sea, and I consider Jenny Lawson (Of The Bloggess fame) to be hysterical, and if you are even remotely twisted, you should check her out.

A brief intro into how I got where I am now: about a year or so ago, the hubs and I decided that Indiana was really not where we wanted to spend much more time, and I was winding my studies down to just writing my thesis, so it was as good a time as any to plot an escape plan.

I am originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, and though there were some great people and things in Indiana, my soul was slowly dying for lack of access to the ocean. There were movement opportunities available within hubs’ company, with two coastal states and an even more land-locked state than Indiana. No, really. At least Indiana touches Lake Michigan. That left a state that was occupied by Federal Troops for far too long, or a state that the rest of the union leaves alone unless they want to see beautiful fall foliage, enjoy a cooler summer, or damned good “lobstah”.

He calls me one day and says: “What do you think about Maine?”, to which I respond: “It’s on my bucket list.” He rephrases: “How would you feel about moving to Maine?”

My response: “…..” “Hang on.” I checked eBird, then gleefully, and a bit maniacally chortle out: “PUFFINS!!!!” He rightfully interpreted that to mean he was going to interview for the Maine position. Smart man. I have a slight bird addiction.

So, here we are, 10 months after the interview, five months into our new adventure. In Maine.

I have yet to see a puffin.


Atlantic Puffin (Fratercula arctica)

By Richard Bartz – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,


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