Summer Celebrations and My remains

Dear Bloggees,

It's been a while since I wrote a letter to you, which was the original idea for this blog, you might recall. We had a very fun July 4th weekend in Maine with my family. Eighteen of us jammed in my mom's, not very large, summer home on an island off the mid-coast of Maine. Utter chaos. The group includes many growing boys and an average size refrigerator. Grocery shopping, cooking, kitchen cleaning, trash removal and dealing with the plumbing take up the greater portion of our "vacation" time as a family.

The sleeping arrangements usually offer opportunities for adventure and diplomacy. The results this year were that two of the party slept in a tent and two or three in boats. The husband and I scored a bedroom. Yet another perk of BC.

It's a beautiful place. The house sits on a hill overlooking Penobscot bay. The yard is fringed with lilies, rosa rugosa, raspberry bushes and wild phlox. The husband and I like to pull our Adirondack chairs to the far edge of the lawn and watch the field mice and sparrows darting about. Sometimes we read there. But since there is usually a fierce game of badminton or an aggressive gossip session going on behind us, it's hard to get too immersed in nature or literature.

We've gathered at this place annually for many years. There is always some family friction to deal with and a lot of frustration in trying to do the stuff you have imagined you were going to do before you got there. But we manage to produce precious memories most of the time, so we always return. This year the memories included the combination of inept badminton played by the adorable 14-year old girls alongside the practically professional badminton played by teenage and 20-something boys; a lobster feast and silly, poetic tributes to my mom whose birthday we were celebrating; a bike ride that included a tire blow out so became a bike walk; a dance party that featured the husband's "gator" and the exotic, athletic moves of the daughter; a slow walk around the point; and cutthroat Pictionary.

The Bay is the focus of a lot of activity up there. My family likes to sail and kayak in it, and eat the lobster and mussels from  it. I only like to spend time in the bay when the temperature is in the 80s and the sky is clear, so almost never. My father loved sailing in the bay. He was a late comer to sailing and was truly a hazard to the other boats that might have the misfortune of sailing too close to him and of course to his unlucky "crew" (usually some of us). After he died, (in a manner unrelated to his lack of sailing skills), we tossed his ashes in the bay thinking that was where his remains belonged. I often wonder about that. The water is so cold, the air is damp and foggy, and the noise of the lobster boats incessant. I wouldn't want my remains floating there.

For the record, I would like my remains in a place where you can't hear motors. I am so tired of the sound of cars, planes, boats, guns (yes, guns - we live near a shooting range), lawn mowers. Plant me on a hill away from the noise, please.

Well, I hadn't meant to get melancholy, but sometimes that 's what this blog is for. I hope you all had happy July 4th breaks and have more summer fun to anticipate.

Be well.

Love,
Amy