Jilli Doublestar

This lake in Washington County has held stories of lake monsters for as long as any Mainer in the area can remember. Some have even reported seeing the snake-like beings along with the trails they leave behind when the come to and leave the lake. While there are no photos of the creatures, locals estimate them to be anywhere from 30 - 60 feet long and could date back as far as 1873.


The Monster of Pocomoonshine

Photo: Xavier Speleers



It's crispness, it's anticipation, it's melancholia,

it's cool breezes replacing summer's heat.

It's long days in the field, a harvest festival when work's done,

a cheering crowd in a football stadium,

chrysanthemums punctuating a somber landscape.

It's Halloween high jinx, pumpkins grinning toothy smiles,

the crack of pecan pressed against pecan.

It's the first curls of wood-smoke,

fresh blisters from pushing a rake.

It's crisp and fresh and mellow and snug, solemn and melancholy. And it's very, very welcome."


“Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?

Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -

An armful of white blossoms,

A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned

into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,

Biting the air with its black beak?

Did you hear it, fluting and whistling

A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall

Knifing down the black ledges?

And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -

A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet

Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?

And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?

And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?

And have you changed your life?” ~ Mary Oliver

Image Jason Wickens


A bit of Poe...


By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named night,

On a black throne reigns upright,

I have reached these lands but newly

From an ultimate dim Thule—

From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,

Out of space—out of time.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,

And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,

With forms that no man can discover

For the tears that drip all over;

Mountains toppling evermore

Into seas without a shore;

Seas that restlessly aspire,

Surging, unto skies of fire;

Lakes that endlessly outspread

Their lone waters—lone and dead,—

Their still waters–still and chilly

With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread

Their lone waters, lone and dead,—

Their sad waters, sad and chilly

With the snows of the lolling lily,—

By the mountains—near the river

Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—

By the grey woods,—by the swamp

Where the toad and the newt encamp—

By the dismal tarns and pools

Where dwell the Ghouls,—

By each spot the most unholy—

In each nook most melancholy—

There the traveller meets aghast

Sheeted Memories of the Past—

Shrouded forms that start and sigh

As they pass the wanderer by—

White-robed forms of friends long given,

In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion

‘Tis a peaceful, soothing region—

For the spirit that walks in shadow

‘Tis—oh, ’tis an Eldorado!

But the traveller, travelling through it,

May not—dare not openly view it!

Never its mysteries are exposed

To the weak human eye unclosed;

So wills its King, who hath forbid

The uplifting of the fringed lid;

And thus the sad Soul that here passes

Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named night,

On a black throne reigns upright,

I have wandered home but newly

From this ultimate dim Thule.~By Edgar Allan Poe

Artist~Jen Betton


“The world rests in the night.

Trees, mountains, fields, and faces are released

from the prison of shape and the burden of exposure.

Each thing creeps back into its own nature within

the shelter of the dark. Darkness is the ancient womb.

Nighttime is womb- time.

Our souls come out to play.

The darkness absolves everything;

the struggle for identity and impression falls away.

We rest in the night.” ~John O'Donohue,

“Joy is sometimes a blessing, but it is often a conquest.

Our magic moment help us to change and

sends us off in search of our dreams.

Yes, we are going to suffer, we will have difficult times,

and we will experience many disappointments —

but all of this is transitory it leaves no permanent mark.

And one day we will look back with pride and faith

at the journey we have taken.” ~Paulo Coelho

Artist~Robin Pushay


"My soul has painted like the wings of butterflies,

Fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die,

I can fly, my friends..." ~ Freddie Mercury

Artist~Pavel Guzenko


“I don't want to live in the kind of world

where we don't look out for each other.

Not just the people that are close to us,

but anybody who needs a helping hand.

I cant change the way anybody else thinks,

or what they choose to do,

but I can do my bit.” ~Charles de Lint

Gone collecting Stars...

“When twilight drops her curtain down

And pins it with a star

Remember that you have a friend

Though she may wander far.” ~L.M. Montgomery

Image~'collecting stars' by marilucia

"Come said the wind to

the leaves one day,

Come o're the meadows

and we will play.

Put on your dresses

scarlet and gold,

For summer is gone

and the days grow cold."

-♫♪ A Children's Song of the 1880's ♪♫

Artist~Leonide Afremov


“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it,

and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking

the successive autumns.” ~ George Eliot

Artist~Leonide Afremov

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