Only in Maine

Let's go get stoned...

Visit Camp Laughing Grass

Cannabis Friendly 21 and Over Campground​

Our Summer Season runs from May 20th – September 5th.


Camp Laughing Grass Campground offers a relaxing Cannabis Friendly retreat in the tranquil settings of Maine’s Lake Region. Tucked into a private 17-acre riverfront forest, bordered by beautiful scenic wetlands with trails throughout. Minutes from Naples & Bridgton, our 21 and over campground is the ideal summer vacation destination. With an array of thoughtful amenities, fun activities, spacious grounds, and tent sites right on the Crooked River, this is camping!

At Camp Laughing Grass you’ll create lifelong memories and truly enjoy “the Maine camping experience”.


Hiking and Biking trails are also on site. Kayaks and Canoe available. First come, first served.
All of our sites have a two (2) night minimum.
 
LOL, knew it had to be someone from away to have a Ferrari. We pay a yearly excise tax on vehicles which is calculated on the STICKER price which ranges from $24 per 1,000 for a car that's brand new to $4 per 1,000 on cars 6 years and older. Bottom line, nobody buys new cars in Maine. BTW at 1 year old, registering that car in my town would have been $12,250!!

York police searching for suspect who stole Ferrari and crashed it​

pressherald.com/2022/07/27/york-police-searching-for-suspect-who-stole-ferrari-and-crashed-it/

By Dennis Hoey July 28, 2022
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York police are investigating the theft of a gray 2021 Ferrari CP 812 GT that was found crashed beside the road in Cape Neddick Saturday night. Photo courtesy of the York Police Department

York police are investigating the theft of a gray 2021 Ferrari CP 812 GT that was stolen from the Cliff House in Cape Neddick on Saturday night.

Police later found the Italian sports car crashed beside the road in York with extensive front-end damage, its airbags deployed and its windshield kicked out.

“The owner said the car is worth upwards of $700,000 although I cannot confirm its true value,” Detective Sgt. Thomas Cryan said in an email Wednesday night. “The owner is from Canada and is very cooperative. The case is under investigation and we are receiving assistance from the Cliff House to determine the suspect or facts of the case.”

The two-door, two-passenger sports car has a base price of over $400,000, according to a review in Motortrend that said a 789-horsepower V-12 engine propels “the insanely powerful” vehicle at up to 211 mph.

York Police responded to the Cliff House on Sunday for a report of a stolen vehicle, York police said Wednesday. Officers were told that the sports car had been stolen from the Cliff House’s front parking lot sometime late Saturday. A security guard was the last person to see the sleek roadster at around 11:30 p.m. Saturday.

Police said the owner, who has not been publicly identified, had given the Ferrari’s keys to a valet to store in the valet office until morning. Investigators believe that sometime during the night someone took the key out of the box where it was being kept and drove away with the Ferrari.

Officers discovered the vehicle off the road near the intersection of Route 1 and Mountain Road in York at 5:28 a.m. Sunday. The vehicle was later impounded as evidence. It will need repairs before it can be driven again. The owner has since returned to Canada.

Detectives are asking that anyone who lives on Shore Road, Route 1 or Mountain Road and has video cameras to check their surveillance footage from late Saturday evening or early Sunday morning. Anyone with information about the theft is asked to call Cryan at 207-363-4444. Anonymous tips can be left with the Seacoast Crime Stoppers by calling 603-431-1199 or on Crime Stoppers website at www.seacoastcrimestoppers.com.

“I don’t think we get many vehicles like that around here,” Cryan told Seacoastonline.com. “I would imagine somebody saw an opportunity to take it for a ride.”
 
NFW!!!

Cold-Plunging With Maine’s ‘Ice Mermaids’​

A photographer in Maine has been documenting groups of women who submerge themselves in near-freezing water. Here’s what she’s seen.

When I met Ida Lennestål for a plunge on a cold January day, she was pulling an ax from her car and switching into warmer boots. A few minutes later, she lit a fire in a nearby sauna — a small building cobbled together from a former fish house and an old stove — before we walked the short slope down to a frozen pond near her home in Georgetown, Maine.

She took to the ice with the ax, chipping away at a rectangular opening and shedding a layer of clothing as her body warmed from the work. When her hands or back were tired, she’d pause and stretch. Eventually her partner and children joined us, lacing up skates and swirling or toddling along the pond’s surface. Two friends from the area, Nicole Testa and Ariel Burns, joined, too, using a ladle to scoop chunks from the water, clearing a path for their bodies.

Caitlin Hopkins, Kelcy Engstrom, Katie Stevenson, Judy Beedle and Judith Greene-Janse in their dry robes before their plunge. The group often will dip in costumes, crowns or with inflatable pool toys to make their swims and plunges feel like a party.

Caitlin Hopkins, Kelcy Engstrom, Katie Stevenson, Judy Beedle and Judith Greene-Janse in their dry robes before their plunge. The group often will dip in costumes, crowns or with inflatable pool toys to make their swims and plunges feel like a party.

Ida grew up in Northern Sweden, close to the Finnish border, in the arctic climate of her parents and grandparents. The practice of combining saunas and cold plunges, an aspect of her cultural and familial traditions that stretches back for generations, is something she brought with her to Maine; she sees it as a way to share her culture with her community and to feel connected to her home and to herself. “This became especially important during the pandemic when the distance between me and my people back home felt even bigger than before,” she said.

When the ice was ready and the sauna was warm, we all stripped to our bathing suits and boots and took turns dipping our bodies into the cold water. The sun came out, but it seemed to offer no warmth.

“The sauna and dip for me is a way to get out of my head and into my body,” Ida said. “When I’m in a hot box” — what she often calls the sauna — “or in an ice-cold body of water, my body doesn’t worry about the future or the past, how it looks or whether it is loved. The body just is.”
After the initial plunge, our bodies felt calm and slow. It was time for the sauna. Inside, the air, which smelled like cedar, was hot enough to pull sweat immediately. My body seemed to relish the experience of opposites, the way the cold and the heat affected my circulation and altered my breathing. The group repeated the plunge three times: plunge, sauna, plunge, sauna, plunge, sauna. Each transition felt like a little renewal.

“These sessions are a direct experience of the body, anchoring me into the present moment,” Ida said. “It has taught me to sit with the uncomfortable, both the hot and the cold, to breathe through it. To pay attention. It has taught me to listen to my body and hear what it needs. It’s a ritual. Sacred almost. And the bliss when it’s all over lasts for hours.”

Ida Lennestål in one of three plunges during an ice-dip session. “After the initial hurdle of getting into the water, everything slows down — the breath, the heart, the buzz of the brain,” she said.

Ida Lennestål in one of three plunges during an ice-dip session. “After the initial hurdle of getting into the water, everything slows down — the breath, the heart, the buzz of the brain,” she said.

Ida walks between the sauna and the icy pond.

Ida walks between the sauna and the icy pond.

Afterward, intrigued by the experience, I started asking around about other women who seek out cold water. I’d started winter surfing a few years ago and understood the ways the water could impact my body and mind, especially when it was cold. I usually surf with women, many of them beginners like me. But the process of cold plunging, I found, was its own distinct experience, with its own intention and power.

Later that winter, I parked my car by a farmhouse in Bremen, Maine, and walked across an icebound meadow to the shores of a lake. The snow had frozen into a slick crust. Undaunted, a small group carried provisions and snacks to share down to the lakeside. Taking turns with an ax, hammer, saw and drill, the group spent hours cutting an enormous heart into the lake to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

A year before, Caitlin Hopkins and Kelsy Hartley, who organized the dip, had posted signs around their community in all caps: “VALENTINE’S DAY MERMAID SIGHTING!” They went to their local beach and shimmied into mermaid tails, playing on the rocks and in the water. A few families brought their kids to witness the episode; some winter beach walkers were thrilled, the rest befuddled.

That day, Caitlin and Kelsy began calling themselves Two Maine Mermaids. They dip year-round and in different locations, often in costumes or crowns and to celebrate new moons and full moons, sometimes using the name the Ebb and Flow group. “We started with our small group celebrating birthdays, solstices, full moons and anything else we could think of right at the beginning of Covid,” Caitlin Hopkins explained. “Some days it’s serene, peaceful and just calming. Sometimes it’s a party. Either way, the water always gives us exactly what we need — never fails.”

Only half of the group decided to plunge into the cutout heart on that cold day in February. In swimsuits, booties and mitts (like the kind surfers wear), they lowered themselves into the water, mingling with little icebergs and slush. A few hugged the ice, or pulled their bodies onto the larger chunks, their spirits buoyant. They monitored the minutes both to test stamina and to protect their bodies from frostbite. Most stayed in for five minutes, a few for seven. When they emerged, they smiled through bluish lips.

“After I get out, I don’t try and rush into my towel or dryrobe,” said Kelcy Engstrom. “I like to stay in my swimsuit as long as possible. I just like the way my skin feels in the air after being in the water.”

“After swimming, I feel very strong and happy and calm,” she added. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been in a bad mood after a dip.”

Katie Stevenson, who also dips with Two Maine Mermaids, is taking a year off from medical school and has enrolled in a course about medical chaplaincy. “I don’t practice a formal faith tradition at this point in my life, but being in the water feels more sacred to me than any church service I’ve ever attended,” she said.

“When I’m stressed in the hospital, I try to find the nearest window with a view of any water,” she told me. “I envision myself in the water, feeling the lapping of the waves against my chest, the pressure of my lungs contracting and expanding in protest to the deep cold, focusing my energy on slow measured breaths, seeing whatever incredible sunrise, sunset or full moon I saw most recently. Sometimes when I have particularly troubling patient visits, I envision the suffering that I or the patient and their family are experiencing getting carried away by the waves.”

Ida Lennestål, on the left, and Ariel Burns head into a small sauna in between cold plunges. “The decision to turn our neighbors’ old smelt-fishing shack into a sauna is probably my top three best decisions since moving to Maine,” Ida said. “Permanently parking it at the pond? Also top three.”

Ida Lennestål, on the left, and Ariel Burns head into a small sauna in between cold plunges. “The decision to turn our neighbors’ old smelt-fishing shack into a sauna is probably my top three best decisions since moving to Maine,” Ida said. “Permanently parking it at the pond? Also top three.”

The annual tradition of the polar bear plunge has existed in the United States and beyond for more than 100 years. But informal cold plunging groups seem to be proliferating: the Red Hot Chilly Dippers in Vermont; the Puget Sound Plungers in Washington State; the Bluetits Chill Swimmers and the Wild and Scilly Mermaids in Britain, to name only a few. Recently, what feels different is the sense of mindfulness around the process of the plunge. Many of the people I met by the water told me they were there because cold plunging gave them a way to live with a certain fullness. It gave them a process to have internal intimacy with grief, trauma and pain, while connecting more challenging emotions with joy and humor.

Amy Hopkins organizes a group of dippers in York, Maine. They meet at local beaches and bays, sometimes with water so cold and slushy it has the consistency of a margarita. I met her and a group of women at the edge of the beach around sunrise on a foggy morning, the sky milky and the sun slow to emerge. They waded into the water and submerged their heads, their dips quick like baptisms.

For them, the most rewarding part of the ritual is the act of submersion, a moment of total submission to the cold. “When your body is in that fight or flight, it’s shocking,” said Amy, who started her career as a labor and delivery nurse. “That cold temperature immediately makes everything constrict and protect. Blood rushes to your vital organs.”

Amy found her way to cold water while mourning the loss of her two parents and the collective loss of the pandemic. She is now facilitating dip trips for women and working with school counselors to provide cold plunges for high schoolers in a business she has named the Saltwater Mountain Co. But she started by organizing free, open community plunges — like the one at the cold, foggy cove — under the name Dip Down to Rise Up. In that post-dip feeling, participants often splash or hug one another, emerging from the water holding hands.

In a place like Maine, for six months out of the year, the relationship with nature is one of hardship, even pain. The cold air hurts your exposed skin; the wind can chap your lips and make your eyes water. Running errands usually requires scraping the windshield and shoveling snow. Winter is harsh and erratic, but it’s also just long, maddeningly so.

And so the prevailing culture retains a sense of pride regarding the harshness, an ability to find pleasure in the endurance of it all. Mainers understand that there is a symmetry in living in a place with extremes — that there is no warmth without stretches of cold.

“You can’t think about a Maine winter without talking about depression — the depression that comes from just being in a long winter,” Amy Hopkins said. “But with this practice, you’re meeting the season. Instead of complaining, you are meeting the season.”
“I never loved winter until I started doing this,” she said.
 

Death of Millie the moose causes stir in Belgrade​

pressherald.com/2022/08/02/death-of-millie-the-moose-causes-stir-in-belgrade/

By Haley Hersey August 2, 2022
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Millie the moose had become something of a celebrity in Belgrade since she was first spotted in June. She died Saturday and some took to social media to complain that a motorboat had struck her, resulting in her death. The state Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife said a preliminary investigation based on witness reports revealed that a boat traveling the legal speed limit passed Millie, but an examination of her body didn’t reveal any signs of trauma or damage. People who had seen Millie had commented on social media that she appeared to be sick. Photo courtesy of Dan McCarron

BELGRADE — Millie the moose was the talk of the town when she first appeared in June, trudging along Great Pond and other waterways.

The chatter really ramped up when she died last weekend, with some claiming a wayward motorboat struck Millie in Mill Stream, causing her death.

The state Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife is investigating the matter and game wardens have interviewed several witnesses.

One of the first accounts of Millie appearing in town was by Dan McCarron, the owner of Lakepoint Real Estate who said she was seen wandering about his parking lot. He said after a few days and two visits from game wardens, she relocated to the stream.

She munched on pond weeds and McCarron said he called her Millie, a reference to milfoil plants. More and more people who came across Millie posted photos of her to Facebook and other social platforms. Several had commented how she didn’t look well, with sluggish behavior and patches of fur missing.

Some shared that they had seen the motorboat strike Millie on Saturday in Mill Stream.

“On Saturday it was reported that the moose had spent the entire day standing near a point without moving, then later moved into the Mill Stream,” Inland Fisheries & Wildlife spokesman Mark Latti said in an email. “It was reported to the Maine Warden Service that a boat that was traveling in the stream area struck a moose on Saturday afternoon.”

He later explained, “Witnesses reported seeing the boat and the moose in the same immediate area as the boat traveled through. At some point after the boat went by the moose, the moose died.”

Witnesses told wardens the boat was traveling the legal speed limit, Latti said. The stream is about 75 to 100 yards wide in that area but the boat channel is much narrower, he said.

Millie was born in spring 2021 and likely weighed between 500 and 600 pounds, he said.

Game wardens removed her body from the water on Sunday and an examination “showed no apparent injuries, as there was no sign of broken bones, no cuts or deep scars, and no other signs of trauma,” he said.

The 7 Lakes Alliance, a conservation group serving the Belgrade Lakes region, said in a statement that it’s “saddened to hear the moose that recently was a frequent visitor to the Mill Stream that connects Great Pond and Long Pond died this past weekend.”

Waterville resident Nate Timmins has a camp on Great Pond. He said he passed through the stream on Saturday around 2:30 p.m. and saw Millie standing and took some pictures of her.

When he returned around 6 p.m., Millie was about 10 to 15 yards from where she was before, but was mostly underwater, he said. At first he thought what he was seeing was a rock, but then noticed her ear.

“She was floating so low,” Timmins said. “A boater could have easily hit her when she was already dead.”
Latti said the investigation is ongoing.

“The Maine Warden Service reminds everyone who loves wildlife to enjoy wildlife from a distance,” he said.
 

Death of Millie the moose causes stir in Belgrade​

pressherald.com/2022/08/02/death-of-millie-the-moose-causes-stir-in-belgrade/

By Haley Hersey August 2, 2022
BelgradeMoose-rotated-1-1659468248-1024x768.jpg

Millie the moose had become something of a celebrity in Belgrade since she was first spotted in June. She died Saturday and some took to social media to complain that a motorboat had struck her, resulting in her death. The state Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife said a preliminary investigation based on witness reports revealed that a boat traveling the legal speed limit passed Millie, but an examination of her body didn’t reveal any signs of trauma or damage. People who had seen Millie had commented on social media that she appeared to be sick. Photo courtesy of Dan McCarron

BELGRADE — Millie the moose was the talk of the town when she first appeared in June, trudging along Great Pond and other waterways.

The chatter really ramped up when she died last weekend, with some claiming a wayward motorboat struck Millie in Mill Stream, causing her death.

The state Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife is investigating the matter and game wardens have interviewed several witnesses.

One of the first accounts of Millie appearing in town was by Dan McCarron, the owner of Lakepoint Real Estate who said she was seen wandering about his parking lot. He said after a few days and two visits from game wardens, she relocated to the stream.

She munched on pond weeds and McCarron said he called her Millie, a reference to milfoil plants. More and more people who came across Millie posted photos of her to Facebook and other social platforms. Several had commented how she didn’t look well, with sluggish behavior and patches of fur missing.

Some shared that they had seen the motorboat strike Millie on Saturday in Mill Stream.

“On Saturday it was reported that the moose had spent the entire day standing near a point without moving, then later moved into the Mill Stream,” Inland Fisheries & Wildlife spokesman Mark Latti said in an email. “It was reported to the Maine Warden Service that a boat that was traveling in the stream area struck a moose on Saturday afternoon.”

He later explained, “Witnesses reported seeing the boat and the moose in the same immediate area as the boat traveled through. At some point after the boat went by the moose, the moose died.”

Witnesses told wardens the boat was traveling the legal speed limit, Latti said. The stream is about 75 to 100 yards wide in that area but the boat channel is much narrower, he said.

Millie was born in spring 2021 and likely weighed between 500 and 600 pounds, he said.

Game wardens removed her body from the water on Sunday and an examination “showed no apparent injuries, as there was no sign of broken bones, no cuts or deep scars, and no other signs of trauma,” he said.

The 7 Lakes Alliance, a conservation group serving the Belgrade Lakes region, said in a statement that it’s “saddened to hear the moose that recently was a frequent visitor to the Mill Stream that connects Great Pond and Long Pond died this past weekend.”

Waterville resident Nate Timmins has a camp on Great Pond. He said he passed through the stream on Saturday around 2:30 p.m. and saw Millie standing and took some pictures of her.

When he returned around 6 p.m., Millie was about 10 to 15 yards from where she was before, but was mostly underwater, he said. At first he thought what he was seeing was a rock, but then noticed her ear.

“She was floating so low,” Timmins said. “A boater could have easily hit her when she was already dead.”
Latti said the investigation is ongoing.

“The Maine Warden Service reminds everyone who loves wildlife to enjoy wildlife from a distance,” he said.
Poor Millie.
However, this story does show us how untrustworthy even eye witness accounts can be. It is very hard to know anything 100.00%.
 
Very sad, she's a real beauty. Saw her underway a few years ago...

Owner of Victory Chimes wooden schooner putting vessel up for sale​

pressherald.com/2022/08/30/victory-chimes-up-for-sale-as-owner-says-he-will-stop-sailing-vessel-in-october/

By STephen Betts August 30, 2022
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The Victory Chimes during the July 2022 45th Annual Great Schooner Race. Photo by Ken Waltz

ROCKLAND — The 128-foot long wooden schooner Victory Chimes, which hails out of Rockland, will discontinue operations.

Owner and Capt. Sam Sikkema said Monday that the ship’s long sailing career in Maine will end in October, but they are trying to find a new home for the historic sailing vessel, which currently is docked off Captain Spear Drive.

Built in 1900, Victory Chimes has sailed the Maine coast since 1954 as a “windjammer” (sailing pleasure craft for paying guests).

The ship is celebrated on the 2003 commemorative state quarter for Maine. The ship was originally launched in Bethel, Del., as one of 4,000 such cargo ships. Then named Edwin & Maud, she hauled cargo in the Chesapeake Bay until 1946. She was then converted to the passenger trade. The ship is the last of the large, former cargo schooners still sailing, according to the statement released by the owner.

According to Captain Sikkema, “After long and careful consideration we have come to the difficult decision that 2022 will be Victory Chimes last sailing season. Upcoming Coast Guard compliance, cost and availability of materials for upcoming maintenance, the lack of ability to haul the ship in Maine and the losses of the 2020 season have all become a hill too big to climb.”

“We are working diligently to find a new home for the vessel. I am optimistic that there will be a way for the ship to exist and continue to tell its story in a meaningful way for generations to come. Thus far the 2022 season has brought us some truly beautiful sailing, lovely music and wonderful people. We invite you to come join us in celebrating the ship’s life and times in the windjammer fleet as we take one last turn around the bay,” the captain concluded in his statement.

According to SuperYachts.com, Victory Chimes is for sale for $650,000. Sikkema purchased Victory Chimes in 2018.

In 1987, Tom Monaghan, then owner of Domino’s Pizza and the Detroit Tigers Baseball Club, purchased the vessel and put it through an extensive restoration at Samples Ship Yard in Boothbay. In 1989, Domino’s put the infrequently used vessel — then named the Domino Effect — up for sale. The only interested party had plans to ship the schooner to Japan and use it for a sushi restaurant.

That’s when Capts. Kip Files and Paul DeGaeta stepped forward and purchased the Victory Chimes in 1990 and returned it to the Maine windjammer trade. This prompted the Maine Legislature to bestow the honor of “Official Windjammer of the state of Maine.”

The Victory Chimes has 21 cabins and can accommodate 43 passengers.
 
Interesting read for any apple lover and aborists like @Chevy1 ...

DNA testing sheds light on the vast, mysterious world of heirloom apples


By Tim Cebula September 25, 2022

When John Bunker first moved to Palermo 50 years ago, he was struck by the lack of street name signs in town.

“None of the roads had (name) signs, because after all, everybody knew what all the roads were,” said Bunker, Maine’s foremost apple historian, who also runs the orchard at Palermo’s Super Chilly Farm. “So I didn’t even know what road I lived on.”

Compounding the confusion, he recalled, was that segments of the same road sometimes had different names.

Palermo’s lack of formal street-naming conventions was interesting and a little confusing, but not alien to Bunker. Because before the 20th century, important information about each particular apple variety was often passed along by oral tradition. Unique varieties migrated from region to region along with the people who cherished those particular apples, sometimes getting renamed along the way without any documenting of the change.

“Those apples were like folks songs that traveled around and had different lyrics in different states,” Bunker said.

Some apple trees planted in Maine since the end of the Civil War – and throughout the country – are in fact well documented with names and descriptions of their phenotypes, or observable characteristics. But for most of what we now call heirloom apples, “descriptions are either nonexistent or rudimentary,” Bunker said, for the same reason nobody needed street name signs in Palermo – everybody at the time knew what they were.

Today, most people eat just a handful of commercial cultivars. Meanwhile, the huge holes of data in apple horticulture regarding the old varieties have confounded scientists, historians and apple explorers for decades. Now, genetic testing may be able to fill in the blanks. The best news? The data being gathered has the potential to make Maine’s apple landscape almost unimaginably more diverse and delicious.
Since 2019, Bunker has been working with College of the Atlantic history professor Todd Little-Siebold, Laura Sieger, orchard manager for the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association and MOFGA intern Lydia Pendergast to collect samples from hundreds of Maine’s unidentified apple trees. They send the samples clear across the country to their partner in the project, Cameron Peace, a horticulture scientist at the University of Washington who runs tests to reveal the DNA.

“It’s almost like 23andMe, but for apples,” Sieger said, referring to the popular human genetic testing web service, 23andMe.com.

Peace logs test results into the massive apple DNA database he and his University of Washington colleagues are compiling, which now contains more than 3,000 unique, named apple varieties from around the world.

Peace’s hypothesis – so far supported by evidence since his DNA project began a few years ago – is that all apple varieties worldwide are related within a handful of generations. “My vision is to put everything into one big, happy family tree,” Peace said.

AN APPLE FOR EVERY TOWN
Today’s average consumer may be familiar with five or 10 apple varieties, tops. Those popular cultivars, like Honeycrisp, Gala, McIntosh and Golden Delicious, are dominant nationwide. Commodity farming of the 20th century drastically culled America’s available apple varieties, focusing almost entirely on 20 or so apples chosen for hardiness, large size and high yields rather than the actual reasons people buy apples – for flavor or how they hold up when cooked or baked.

But in the decades before modern farming practices took hold in the United States, the market for apples was much different.

Bunker said between the end of the Civil War and the turn of the 20th century, “Almost every county from here to Georgia had its own special apples that were unique to that area. And certainly every town had its own unique mix of apples people would grow.

“I think more and more Americans are seeing that the one-size-fits-all approach is a worn-out model,” Bunker continued. “I like to think apples in Maine should be like cheeses in France, where you go 10 miles and you get a whole new cheese. In Maine there should be a different cider and apple in every town or county.”

The push for greater diversity in the market begins with identifying old apple trees and their heirloom fruit. Since Maine’s team of hardcore apple advocates started working with Peace three years ago, they’ve completed about 350 DNA tests on the state’s apple trees, Little-Siebold said. Test results sometimes showed duplication among the samples, but were highly illuminating nonetheless.

Little-Siebold said, for example, that they collected test samples from what seemed like three different apples, snipped from trees in Washington, Hancock and Kennebec counties.

“The first thing that came back is, they’re all the same,” Little-Siebold said. The DNA tests showed the apples in question were actually a single variety called Salome, which originated in central Illinois around 1860.

“We would never have been able to figure that out,” Little-Siebold said, emphasizing the advantage of the genotype approach over traditional phenotype identifications. “Salome, as far as John and I have ever seen, is mentioned once in historical records in Maine. And yet we found three of them. It is so rare, we would never have guessed it as we did the phenotypic comparisons. But the great thing about the DNA tests is that you don’t have to guess. You know they’re the same, period.”

Little-Siebold considers apples and old apple trees to be one of the last living connections to the thriving farm communities that formed the basis of the early Maine economy. “The apples tell a story about who we are and where we came from,” he said. “All of a sudden, we have a brand new tool that can give us answers.”
Bunker said the Maine team also collaborates with apple historians around the country, leading them to discover that a certain apple in Sorrento – about 15 miles east of Ellsworth – was also discovered in Colorado and Washington state, for instance. “You can learn about human migration patterns by following the apples,” he said.

MORE DIVERSITY, MORE DELICIOUSNESS
Apple trees planted in Maine toward the end of the 19th century are now pushing 150 years old, about their maximum lifespan, which gives the apple testing project a sense of urgency.

“There are friends and colleagues of mine all over the state now searching for the last of these old trees,” Bunker said. “We’re on this almost desperate search to find them before they die. We’re losing many of them every year now.”

Identifying and preserving old apple varieties can also help apple growers guard against against future calamity, since a limited gene pool makes a crop vulnerable to disease and decimation. “We’re looking at how we can have a safe and sustainable apple industry in the future by increasing the genetic diversity,” Bunker said.

And as more more heirloom apples become available, consumers win big, too.

“There are some excellent fresh-eating apples that are almost entirely unknown now. We need to reintroduce those to the public,” said Bunker. He cited one of his favorites, Garden Royal, which originated in Sudbury Massachusetts, and was grown all over central and southern Maine years ago.
“The Garden Royal is small, it grows poorly in the nursery, it doesn’t bear every year. And when you eat them they are like ambrosia,” Bunker said.

He also noted his two Trailman apple trees on Super Chilly Farm. “They’re like candy. People eat them and tell me, ‘My goodness, this is the best apple I’ve ever eaten.’ But they’re small, and they don’t fit that designer mode that we think the apple industry and the customer demand,” Bunker said.

Many heirloom apples that have seemingly disappeared were never meant to be eaten fresh, Bunker explained, but the fruit absolutely shined when baked in pies, cooked into sauce or juiced for cider.

“These days, people are doing more cooking for themselves,” Bunker said. “They want a good pie apple. Honeycrisp is a delicious apple, but they’re terrible for pies. McIntosh is no good in a pie, it turns into soup. But there are great pie apples out there. Most of them are these old heirlooms, because they were selected for that purpose. We need to get those back into the commercial orchards of Maine.”

CROWD-SOURCING DATA
Orchards like Super Chilly Farm or Cayford Orchards in Skowhegan sell scores of heirloom varieties, but the state’s apple market has a long way to go to meet Bunker’s hyper-localized vision of diversity and abundance. And the apple researchers have plenty more work ahead, too: Little-Siebold said Maine has historically hosted about 1,000 named apple tree varieties, and Bunker estimated that the apple DNA project in the state is about 20 percent complete.

A website launched earlier this year by Peace’s horticulture department at Washington State University – Myfruittree.org – might lighten their load, by taking a crowd-sourcing approach to apple gene mapping. For $120, the site’s researchers will send any apple tree owner who contacts them sampling gear and instructions for mailing the clippings back. Six months later, your apple tree mystery is solved, and the findings bolster the entire database.

Peace said between sample tests generated through the website and others from the dedicated teams of apple explorers around the country, “We run about 100 tests every couple of months now, and we keep finding more and more missing ancestors or pedigree filler to put everything together.” The data may eventually lead to major findings, like discovering the still-unknown “father” tree of the Golden Delicious apple, or the grandparents of the iconic Red Delicious.

“It’s a wonderful revolution in identification and preservation of the historic apples of North America, and to a large degree, around the world,” Bunker said. “It’s a win-win for everybody in the state of Maine that this is all happening now.”

“One of the things John will say is, ‘Sometimes we have an apple and we’re looking for a name, and sometimes we have a name and we’re looking for an apple,'” Little-Siebold said. “We’re tracking down old varieties that nobody has seen in a hundred years. I would say that’s going to be decades of work. But we’ve made real progress so far.”
 
Interesting read for any apple lover and aborists like @Chevy1 ...

DNA testing sheds light on the vast, mysterious world of heirloom apples


By Tim Cebula September 25, 2022

When John Bunker first moved to Palermo 50 years ago, he was struck by the lack of street name signs in town.

“None of the roads had (name) signs, because after all, everybody knew what all the roads were,” said Bunker, Maine’s foremost apple historian, who also runs the orchard at Palermo’s Super Chilly Farm. “So I didn’t even know what road I lived on.”

Compounding the confusion, he recalled, was that segments of the same road sometimes had different names.

Palermo’s lack of formal street-naming conventions was interesting and a little confusing, but not alien to Bunker. Because before the 20th century, important information about each particular apple variety was often passed along by oral tradition. Unique varieties migrated from region to region along with the people who cherished those particular apples, sometimes getting renamed along the way without any documenting of the change.

“Those apples were like folks songs that traveled around and had different lyrics in different states,” Bunker said.

Some apple trees planted in Maine since the end of the Civil War – and throughout the country – are in fact well documented with names and descriptions of their phenotypes, or observable characteristics. But for most of what we now call heirloom apples, “descriptions are either nonexistent or rudimentary,” Bunker said, for the same reason nobody needed street name signs in Palermo – everybody at the time knew what they were.

Today, most people eat just a handful of commercial cultivars. Meanwhile, the huge holes of data in apple horticulture regarding the old varieties have confounded scientists, historians and apple explorers for decades. Now, genetic testing may be able to fill in the blanks. The best news? The data being gathered has the potential to make Maine’s apple landscape almost unimaginably more diverse and delicious.
Since 2019, Bunker has been working with College of the Atlantic history professor Todd Little-Siebold, Laura Sieger, orchard manager for the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association and MOFGA intern Lydia Pendergast to collect samples from hundreds of Maine’s unidentified apple trees. They send the samples clear across the country to their partner in the project, Cameron Peace, a horticulture scientist at the University of Washington who runs tests to reveal the DNA.

“It’s almost like 23andMe, but for apples,” Sieger said, referring to the popular human genetic testing web service, 23andMe.com.

Peace logs test results into the massive apple DNA database he and his University of Washington colleagues are compiling, which now contains more than 3,000 unique, named apple varieties from around the world.

Peace’s hypothesis – so far supported by evidence since his DNA project began a few years ago – is that all apple varieties worldwide are related within a handful of generations. “My vision is to put everything into one big, happy family tree,” Peace said.

AN APPLE FOR EVERY TOWN
Today’s average consumer may be familiar with five or 10 apple varieties, tops. Those popular cultivars, like Honeycrisp, Gala, McIntosh and Golden Delicious, are dominant nationwide. Commodity farming of the 20th century drastically culled America’s available apple varieties, focusing almost entirely on 20 or so apples chosen for hardiness, large size and high yields rather than the actual reasons people buy apples – for flavor or how they hold up when cooked or baked.

But in the decades before modern farming practices took hold in the United States, the market for apples was much different.

Bunker said between the end of the Civil War and the turn of the 20th century, “Almost every county from here to Georgia had its own special apples that were unique to that area. And certainly every town had its own unique mix of apples people would grow.

“I think more and more Americans are seeing that the one-size-fits-all approach is a worn-out model,” Bunker continued. “I like to think apples in Maine should be like cheeses in France, where you go 10 miles and you get a whole new cheese. In Maine there should be a different cider and apple in every town or county.”

The push for greater diversity in the market begins with identifying old apple trees and their heirloom fruit. Since Maine’s team of hardcore apple advocates started working with Peace three years ago, they’ve completed about 350 DNA tests on the state’s apple trees, Little-Siebold said. Test results sometimes showed duplication among the samples, but were highly illuminating nonetheless.

Little-Siebold said, for example, that they collected test samples from what seemed like three different apples, snipped from trees in Washington, Hancock and Kennebec counties.

“The first thing that came back is, they’re all the same,” Little-Siebold said. The DNA tests showed the apples in question were actually a single variety called Salome, which originated in central Illinois around 1860.

“We would never have been able to figure that out,” Little-Siebold said, emphasizing the advantage of the genotype approach over traditional phenotype identifications. “Salome, as far as John and I have ever seen, is mentioned once in historical records in Maine. And yet we found three of them. It is so rare, we would never have guessed it as we did the phenotypic comparisons. But the great thing about the DNA tests is that you don’t have to guess. You know they’re the same, period.”

Little-Siebold considers apples and old apple trees to be one of the last living connections to the thriving farm communities that formed the basis of the early Maine economy. “The apples tell a story about who we are and where we came from,” he said. “All of a sudden, we have a brand new tool that can give us answers.”
Bunker said the Maine team also collaborates with apple historians around the country, leading them to discover that a certain apple in Sorrento – about 15 miles east of Ellsworth – was also discovered in Colorado and Washington state, for instance. “You can learn about human migration patterns by following the apples,” he said.

MORE DIVERSITY, MORE DELICIOUSNESS
Apple trees planted in Maine toward the end of the 19th century are now pushing 150 years old, about their maximum lifespan, which gives the apple testing project a sense of urgency.

“There are friends and colleagues of mine all over the state now searching for the last of these old trees,” Bunker said. “We’re on this almost desperate search to find them before they die. We’re losing many of them every year now.”

Identifying and preserving old apple varieties can also help apple growers guard against against future calamity, since a limited gene pool makes a crop vulnerable to disease and decimation. “We’re looking at how we can have a safe and sustainable apple industry in the future by increasing the genetic diversity,” Bunker said.

And as more more heirloom apples become available, consumers win big, too.

“There are some excellent fresh-eating apples that are almost entirely unknown now. We need to reintroduce those to the public,” said Bunker. He cited one of his favorites, Garden Royal, which originated in Sudbury Massachusetts, and was grown all over central and southern Maine years ago.
“The Garden Royal is small, it grows poorly in the nursery, it doesn’t bear every year. And when you eat them they are like ambrosia,” Bunker said.

He also noted his two Trailman apple trees on Super Chilly Farm. “They’re like candy. People eat them and tell me, ‘My goodness, this is the best apple I’ve ever eaten.’ But they’re small, and they don’t fit that designer mode that we think the apple industry and the customer demand,” Bunker said.

Many heirloom apples that have seemingly disappeared were never meant to be eaten fresh, Bunker explained, but the fruit absolutely shined when baked in pies, cooked into sauce or juiced for cider.

“These days, people are doing more cooking for themselves,” Bunker said. “They want a good pie apple. Honeycrisp is a delicious apple, but they’re terrible for pies. McIntosh is no good in a pie, it turns into soup. But there are great pie apples out there. Most of them are these old heirlooms, because they were selected for that purpose. We need to get those back into the commercial orchards of Maine.”

CROWD-SOURCING DATA
Orchards like Super Chilly Farm or Cayford Orchards in Skowhegan sell scores of heirloom varieties, but the state’s apple market has a long way to go to meet Bunker’s hyper-localized vision of diversity and abundance. And the apple researchers have plenty more work ahead, too: Little-Siebold said Maine has historically hosted about 1,000 named apple tree varieties, and Bunker estimated that the apple DNA project in the state is about 20 percent complete.

A website launched earlier this year by Peace’s horticulture department at Washington State University – Myfruittree.org – might lighten their load, by taking a crowd-sourcing approach to apple gene mapping. For $120, the site’s researchers will send any apple tree owner who contacts them sampling gear and instructions for mailing the clippings back. Six months later, your apple tree mystery is solved, and the findings bolster the entire database.

Peace said between sample tests generated through the website and others from the dedicated teams of apple explorers around the country, “We run about 100 tests every couple of months now, and we keep finding more and more missing ancestors or pedigree filler to put everything together.” The data may eventually lead to major findings, like discovering the still-unknown “father” tree of the Golden Delicious apple, or the grandparents of the iconic Red Delicious.

“It’s a wonderful revolution in identification and preservation of the historic apples of North America, and to a large degree, around the world,” Bunker said. “It’s a win-win for everybody in the state of Maine that this is all happening now.”

“One of the things John will say is, ‘Sometimes we have an apple and we’re looking for a name, and sometimes we have a name and we’re looking for an apple,'” Little-Siebold said. “We’re tracking down old varieties that nobody has seen in a hundred years. I would say that’s going to be decades of work. But we’ve made real progress so far.”


That’s absolutely awesome! Future generations will get to enjoy some good eats. I didn’t know Maine was a big apple producer. I always search out heirloom plants for either food or beauty.
It’s only 8:17 in the Morning and I already learned something new. ???
 
After a welcome absence for 2 years due to COVID, the "Damariscotta Pumpkin Fest" returned this past weekend. It used to be fun before it showed up on the CBS Sunday Morning Show about 8 years ago and after that it was the Mongolian Hordes, as the tourists and leaf peepers invaded our town. Since then, we avoid it like the plague until after the weekend passes, but today we went to check out the decorated pumpkins.

My favorite this year was this porcupine, reflexively went for the .410 to shoot the varmint...

1665520770120.webp
 
Sick...

FBI seized apparent Native American scalp from Fairfield auction house, document shows​

pressherald.com/2022/11/10/fbi-seized-apparent-native-american-scalp-from-fairfield-auction-house-document-shows/

By Kaitlyn Budion November 10, 2022

FAIRFIELD — An auction house listed what appears to be a Native American scalp for sale earlier this year before a tip led the FBI to search the business and confiscate the human remains, according to an FBI affidavit unsealed this week in federal court.

Agents have opened an investigation into the possible illegal trafficking of human remains after the scalp was seized in May from Poulin’s Antiques & Auctions on the Skowhegan Road in Fairfield.

Authorities received a tip from someone outside Maine that Poulin’s listed an item online as an “Apache scalp,” according to the affidavit on file in U.S. District Court in Bangor. The listing included a beaded pipe bag and what authorities believe to be a scalp with a tag that read, “Mescallaro [sic] Apache, Scalp. Killed at Johnson’s Run Texas Sent to Frank Owens by Lance Brewington Former Maysville Man Above Told Me By Lance B. At Joplin Mo. 1899 W.W. Gibson.”

The Mescalero Apache Tribe is a federally recognized Native American tribe based in New Mexico. Prior to the reservation period, they were nomadic hunters and known for being skilled horsemen. They were given the name “Mescalero,” because they ate the mescal or agave plant.

Testing is being done to confirm whether the item is in fact a human scalp. Investigators are also working to determine if the case may be a violation of the federal Native American Graves and Repatriation Act.
Joel Casey, a federal prosecutor in Maine, said in an email that the auction house cooperated in the search.

“There is a process underway to determine whether the item is human, whether it is Native American, and whether, if Native American, the remains are that of a person who was a member of a particular tribe,” Casey said. “If investigators determine that the remains are those of a Native American who was a member of a particular tribe, efforts will be taken to repatriate the remains back to the tribe for interment. All of these efforts will be taken in consultation with the Bureau of Indian Affairs and relevant tribal authorities and conducted in a culturally sensitive manner.”

No charges have been filed. A call placed to Poulin’s for comment was not returned Thursday.

Poulin’s is a family-run company that was founded in the 1950s. The company website lists its extensive auction catalog and highlights from past auctions. It also states that based on annual sales the company is one of the top specialty firearms auctions in North America.

European and American colonial governments offered bounties for Native American scalps for decades after colonizing North America. Officials would offer bounties for men, women and children in at least 23 states, according to Benjamin Madley in “Reexamining the American Genocide Debate: Meaning, Historiography, and New Methods,” in The American Historical Review.

Many Native American deaths can be tracked through the bounties. For example, between 1703 and 1704, Massachusetts paid for 208 scalps, according to Madley.

“By demonstrating that body-part bounties — which motivated some or all of this head, hand, and scalp collecting — could be an effective Indian-killing policy, colonists established a lethal, enduring tradition,” Madley wrote.

Penobscot Nation Ambassador Maulian Dana told News Center Maine that she hopes people will react to the news of the auction house listing with disgust and a desire to atone for the past.

“It saddens me to think that any human beings would want to celebrate, commemorate, and even profit from the violent and tragic legacy of genocide against Indigenous people in our homelands,” Dana told the TV station. “It goes against standards of decency that should exist universally across people of all backgrounds and life experiences.”
 
Hey Tobey, you feeling a buzz yet??? Too funny, the Apple Dumpling Gang at work...

Portland cannabis store burglars make off with fake gummies

pressherald.com/2022/11/27/cannabis-store-burglars-make-off-with-fake-gummies/

By Dennis Hoey November 28, 2022
30091040_20220420_four-twenty_2-1669601001-1024x722.jpg

A botched burglary attempt that took place early Friday morning at a Portland cannabis dispensary resulted in the theft of some fake gummies and packaging, but no products containing THC, according to Portland police.

Major Robert Martin of the Portland Police Department said the two male suspects forced their way into Sweet Dirt, a cannabis dispensary located at 1297 Forest Avenue, shortly after midnight Friday. The suspects have not been apprehended, but police continue to investigate.

Martin said the burglars broke several display cases and stole the contents, but nothing that contained THC or Tetrahydrocannibinol, which is the major psychoactive component of cannabis, were stolen. The items that were taken were for display only.

Sweet Dirt Senior Vice President of Operations Amanda Abelmann told News Center Maine that cannabis and other merchandise of value were locked in a safe at the time of the burglary.

Sweet Dirt, in a post on its Facebook page, said it was forced to close the store on Friday due to an unforeseen circumstances. The cannabis company offers adult-use (recreational) cannabis products.
 
Long read, but a predictable ending for a Twenty Something NY/LA, Gwyneth Paltrow Co Alum, Social Influencer falling flat on her face while trying to "influence" a small, Maine Island community. Right up there with the Cindy Adams debacle earlier this summer.

Bottom line, if you come up here with a "I know better attitude", you best leave your attitude at home...

When an influencer landed on Vinalhaven, cultures clashed and resentment lingers

pressherald.com/2022/12/11/when-an-influencer-landed-on-vinalhaven-cultures-clashed-and-resentment-lingers/

By Eric Russel lDecember 11, 2022

VINALHAVEN — The storefronts along Main Street had been vacant since before the pandemic, so residents of this rustic island off the Midcoast were encouraged when Ana Hito expressed interest in opening a pair of restaurants there this summer.

Hito, a 25-year-old social media influencer and former food editor at actress Gwyneth Paltrow’s lifestyle company, Goop, had big plans for the island that involved her pop-up field-to-table food series, It’s a Dinner.

“I was excited about having a place to go eat with my husband that wasn’t pizza. I think a lot of other people were, too,” said Kelly Oxton, who runs Fathom Seafood, a fish and meat market not far from where Hito set up shop. “And I would love to say they were lovely people trying to do something good, but it … turned into something completely different.”

Over the next couple of months, Hito and her crew commanded a presence on the island, with sidewalk sales, parties and photo shoots that created more of a stir than anything that came out of the restaurants, which people say were only open intermittently.

“I’ve never been so bullied, in person and online, but I chose not to fuel that fire or rest in that,” she said. “I chose to do what I wanted. I put a lot of money into the island, a lot of effort, and if that’s not what is chosen to be seen, that’s OK.”

Hito’s time on the island was short-lived but exposed a deep cultural rift – not unique to Vinalhaven – between a younger generation of social media-forward, image-conscious doers, represented by Hito, and Mainers unaccustomed to such an outward display of bravado.

Anger that lingered at the end of the summer has mostly given way to bemusement. Islanders have much bigger things to worry about – namely whether the lobster industry that supports so much of the local economy will survive. But Hito’s presence on Vinalhaven this summer remains a polarizing topic of conversation there.

“This island desperately needs a next generation of entrepreneurial people,” said Elaine Austin Crossman, who owns New Era Gallery, next to one of the restaurant spaces Hito leased. “I just don’t think that’s what they were about. I’m still puzzled about what they were about, honestly, although maybe that’s a phenomenon my generation doesn’t understand. I don’t know.

“It just didn’t seem like they brought anything good.”

Hito was supposed to return to Maine last week for an It’s A Dinner event at the White Barn Inn in Kennebunkport, but it was canceled abruptly without explanation from the venue.

AN INFLUENCER ON THE ISLAND

Hito divides her time between New York and Los Angeles but said she grew up largely on an island even more remote than Vinalhaven – Easter Island, located more than 2,000 miles from the coast of Chile in the South Pacific Ocean.

She said food has always been a passion of hers and, at a young age, she’s developed powerful connections and built a well-curated personal brand with a following that enables her to market products as a social media influencer.

Since leaving her job as food editor for Goop, Hito has leaned into that role – she’s a brand ambassador for J. Crew and Cole Haan – but she also launched It’s A Dinner at her family’s farm in Goshen, New York, as a way to parlay her love of food and communal eating into a business.

Vinalhaven, she said, was meant to be an extension of that.

Hito said she’s been coming to North Haven, Vinalhaven’s sister island, for a few years (she has a friend, Michael Bruno, founder of the online antique marketplace 1stDibs.com, who owns a home there).

Often, she would make the short boat ride to Vinalhaven, and on one of those trips, she met Sharon and Paul Mrozinski, who own an upscale antique shop called Marston House. They became friends.

Last spring, Hito saw the Mrozinskis in New York and had dinner.

“They were talking about how Main Street (on Vinalhaven) was really empty since COVID, and they were saying they wished they had a place in town where they could eat oysters,” Hito said. “So, I thought, ‘Maybe, I’ll just do that.’ It all happened fast.”

She started calling around to see about renting space and discovered two vacant storefronts – 30 Main St., which used to house the Nightingale restaurant, and 64 Main, formerly home to a popular restaurant called Salt.

Neither location was move-in ready, but Hito didn’t have the luxury of time.

Vinalhaven has a year-round population of 1,200, but that grows to more than 4,000 in the summer, not including many more day and overnight visitors. The window to run a successful restaurant there is small.

Hito signed short-term leases in June for a bakery and café called Bernice at 30 Main St. and a sit-down dinner spot called Sonya at 64 Main, but she didn’t get her state restaurant licenses until late July and early August, state officials confirmed. During the interim, though, she was frequently seen coming and going, and put ads in the free local newsletter teasing that they would open soon.

She also hosted pop-up food events and parties, often on the sidewalks in front of the buildings, which drew the attention of the town’s code enforcement officer, Faye Grant, whose visits to Hito sometimes turned into heated exchanges.

Grant, reached by phone, said she didn’t want to talk for this story but insisted she was just doing her job. Town Manager Marjorie Stratton said the only formal complaint she got was from someone who asked whether the parties Hito hosted on the street in front of the restaurant were legal. Stratton encouraged the resident to call the Knox County Sheriff’s Office, the law enforcement agency responsible for the island. But there is a decidedly live-and-let-live attitude on Vinalhaven and nothing came of it.

“Most of the complaints I got were from Ana,” Stratton said. “I think she felt like she was being harassed.”

Stratton found no evidence of harassment and acknowledged that Hito’s time on the island was “strange.”

Hito, however, said she felt like Grant was being “vindictive.”

“I don’t know why she was targeting me, except that I’m a young woman who came to a place who did things fast and that doesn’t happen in Maine,” she said.

Vinalhaven is plenty used to outsiders, so locals said they were more than willing to give Hito a chance.

“In my years open here, I have never seen one person or one group of people make everyone equally mad,” said Lindsay Davis, who owns The Sand Bar, a bar and restaurant across the street from one of the storefronts Hito rented. “It wasn’t just young or old people, natives or visitors. She single-handedly made every group of people angry at her.”

That’s not entirely true. There were some people willing to defend her, even if they were harder to find.

Sharon Mrozinski praised Hito’s ambition and dismissed the criticism as jealously, perhaps rooted in sexism.

“People didn’t know how to deal with her,” she said. “She is a wild horse, and her spirit will not be broken.”

DOING BUSINESS

When the two restaurants did finally open, confusion about what was going inside remained.

Hito didn’t have a restaurant license for 30 Main St., so she had to get a catering license to serve food there, mostly baked goods made with natural sweeteners, and sandwiches.

Every day, she and her staff would move tables and chairs between the two restaurants. But there were many days when the two restaurants weren’t open at all, according to townspeople, or were being used for what seemed like private functions.

Crossman, the gallery owner, said she walked into Sonya one day to introduce herself and was offered a lukewarm cup of coffee.

“I had a thought that if they couldn’t even make hot coffee, that wasn’t a good sign,” she said. “They were really enthusiastic and saying all the right things. I had a thought that they were experienced in restaurants, but they didn’t really seem to know what they were doing.”

Mrozinski said she loved the atmosphere Hito created.

“We have never dined out so often, nor have we ever been more satisfied,” she said. “I applaud anyone at any age for putting themselves out there to try to please the public with the experience of eating food.”

Besides the food, people seemed to find fault in many things Hito did, from where she parked her Vespa scooter to how she conducted photo and video shoots for social media posts and brand campaigns that occasionally tied up traffic.

Hito said people just didn’t understand what she was doing.

“I do have a big presence. I’m grateful for it,” she said. “It’s brought me lots of places.”

Hito said that whether or not people supported what she was doing, she made a point of supporting local businesses. But even that was debatable.

Keith Snow, who lives on Green’s Island, which is part of Vinalhaven but separated from the main island, said he offered to make a sign, last minute, for one of Hito’s restaurants. She agreed to pay $400. He said she wrote the check on an inactive personal account. As of this month, he said he hadn’t been paid.

Snow said he didn’t get the sense that Hito was ever interested in running a profitable restaurant.

“It was more like live-action role playing,” he said.

Others had better experiences.

Jeanie Conway, who owns the Island’s Closet – a sort of catch-all store across the street from Sonya – said they did business with Hito and didn’t have any issues, though Conway said it did seem like she and her employees flouted conventions.

“They came over a lot,” she said. “I run a store that supplies a lot of things. I was even able to get disco balls overnight for one of their parties when Amazon couldn’t.”

Conway was invited to a party once and said she didn’t recognize any locals. As for the restaurant, she never ate there but agreed with others who said it often seemed like it wasn’t set up for customers.
That’s one of Hito’s sticking points: People criticized her without coming into her restaurants or getting to know her.

“There was a divide there, but it’s bigger than just the island,” she said. “It’s a cultural thing that’s come into play. If you’re not like me, you’re against me.

“I know I will be this force you may not like, but I’m not going to stop.”

WILL THE SHOW GO ON?

Hito hired a handful of workers, all young women from off the island, to assist in running the two restaurants. One of them chronicled her time in a since-deleted blog titled “Ramblings from Maine” that included a crude post about a co-worker’s relationship with a local lobsterman.

Townspeople said that was a turning point for many who already felt like Hito had worn out her welcome.
Hito eventually cut ties with the employee and called the blog post “an unfortunate situation,” but said she had no interest in “tarring and feathering” the young woman.

“I believe in mistakes,” she said. “I think they are amazing for growth.”

Asked whether she felt like she made any mistakes, though, Hito did not answer the question directly. As for not following rules, Hito insisted she did.

Rob Miller, a summer resident of Vinalhaven who lives in Dallas the rest of the year, witnessed much of Hito’s time on the island and even had some interactions with her.

One night, during a particularly loud street party, he walked down and asked her if she might turn the music down. She said she would and invited Miller to join if he wanted. He declined.

The music stayed loud until Miller decided to take another approach. He went to his truck, which was parked on the street nearby and turned the engine on in an effort to drown out the party noise.

Toward the end of the summer, Miller posted on the town’s public Facebook group a lengthy screed about Hito and said she owes the town an apology. The many comments on Miller’s post were supportive of his sentiment, with only a few defending Hito.

“She was heartbroken and amazed that people said or wrote such horrible things,” Mrozinski said.
Others felt Miller’s criticisms were fair and accurate.

“If they really wanted to do the right thing, they could have gotten to know the community,” said Oxton, the fish and meat market owner. “They were rude. They did just whatever they wanted, and maybe they thought they could. This is a community where we take care of year-rounders and summer folks, too. We just ask for that respect back.

“We don’t need J. Crew photo shoots. We need people who can integrate themselves into the community, and they could have had the world if they wanted it.”

Hito has a different take. She said her pop-up restaurants were always meant to be temporary.

“Both of those spaces were empty for a long time,” she said. “There was a lot of opportunity for people to do something with them. I felt like there was some animosity because I decided to come in and do what I wanted, but I didn’t take them from anyone. The opportunity was there.”

Instead of having nothing there, Hito said, people were entertained.

“I put on a show every day. That’s what I do,” she said. “Even the people who didn’t like me were interested in what might happen next.”

When the restaurants closed in September, there was a lot of talk about whether Hito might come back next year. Some residents said they had heard she was, and there was a note written in chalk on one of the windows that read, “See you next year.” That has since been erased.

Hito said she hasn’t made up her mind.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said. “I like to let the wind blow me where I want to go … Maybe it’ll blow me back to Maine.”
 
Who needs to go to Las Vegas when you can go to Kittery, Maine??? Besides this wedding chapel, you could indulge you and your guests to the best fried clams in the world at "Bob's Clam Hut" or go upscale to "Roberts Maine Grill", the Hut's fancy, schmancy upscale, sit down restaurant. Don't forget to register at the Kittery Trading Post so guest can easily pick up a gift, or they could shop at any of the Outlet Stores...

A big day, a small budget – but no Elvises at this Kittery wedding chapel​

pressherald.com/2022/12/27/a-big-day-a-small-budget-but-no-elvises-at-this-kittery-wedding-chapel/

By Megan Gray December 27, 2022

Andrea Gillespie, left, and Taylor Poro at their wedding in the wedding chapel in Kittery. Photo courtesy of Taylor Poro

Taylor Poro and Andrea Gillespie originally planned to exchange vows far from Maine – in Las Vegas.

The couple became engaged in 2014, but decided to postpone a wedding until their careers were more settled and involved less travel. Poro and Gillespie also felt overwhelmed by the idea of planning a big to-do, they said. The pandemic later prompted them to search for a venue close to their home in Rochester, New Hampshire.

Then Gillespie heard about the Firefly Wedding Chapel in Kittery. “It was just what we were looking for,” she said.

Firefly Wedding Chapel caters to couples who want more than a courthouse ceremony but don’t want to spend thousands of dollars on their big day. The average cost of a wedding in Maine is more than $29,000, according to wedding website The Knot, making the state pricier than most. Firefly’s four packages range from $950 to $2,100.

Owners Tara Price and Joaquin Gonzalez Pallares opened the secular venue in May at the Kittery Outlets strip mall, inside a former specialty sock store.

“I’m a firm believer that you shouldn’t go into debt for your wedding,” said Price.

She and Gonzalez Pallares hope to fill a niche that has expanded during the pandemic.


Joaquin Gonzalez Pallares and Tara Price opened Firefly Wedding Chapel in a former specialty sock store at the Kittery Outlets. The chapel caters to couples who want something more than a courthouse ceremony but don’t want to spend thousands of dollars on their big day. Gregory Rec/Staff Photographer
Reuben Bell, editor of Real Maine Weddings and owner of Blue Elephant Events and Catering in Saco, said people are throwing big celebrations again. But concerns continue about travel and event costs. In his catering business, for example, Bell said he has been getting more inquiries for weekday weddings or events with fewer than 75 guests.

“The traditional ways of doing things are going like gangbusters post-pandemic, and I don’t think there’s been a decline,” he said. “But I think people are a little more budget-conscious and thinking a little more critically about where their dollars are going.”

Firefly Wedding Chapel isn’t the drive-thru you might be picturing. Couples schedule their ceremonies in advance, even if only by hours or days. The guest list can be as small as two witnesses (the minimum required in Maine) or as large as 30 people. There’s no kitsch, or at least it’s optional.

“Everybody says, ‘Like Elvis?’ ” said Gonzalez Pallares.

Price added, “We would be happy to bring in an Elvis impersonator if someone really wanted one. But that’s not really what we’re doing.”

Firefly’s owners were inspired by their own experience.

They met while living in Los Angeles. He is originally from Spain and has a professional background in tiling, design, and construction. She is originally from New Hampshire and works in TV production. In 2018, they married at a bed-and-breakfast in southern California with just five guests. The owners navigated every hiccup and made the day feel special, and the newlyweds were so impressed by the experience that they thought about trying to do the same.

“People who have big weddings, they hire coordinators,” said Price. “But people who don’t have big weddings, they need help too.”

The idea lingered until they moved to Maine just as the pandemic hit. The couple liked Kittery Outlets because of its free parking and convenience, but wanted the inside to feel miles away from the shoppers on the sidewalk.

The former sock store was painted black and yellow, but Gonzalez Pallares built a wall to create a foyer that separates the chapel from the storefront and creates a sense of privacy. The inside is now white with brick and dark wood accents. The décor is simple – white flowers in the arbor at the front, candles lining the aisle, chandeliers catching the light, and rows of chairs – not overwhelming.


The Firefly Wedding Chapel is located in a strip mall at the Kittery Outlets. Gregory Rec/Staff Photographer

Ben Gamache has owned Kittery Outlets for about five years. All the spaces were vacant when he bought it except one (the DXL clothing store that is still there), and he has slowly leased other spaces to a barbershop, a marijuana dispensary and, now, a wedding chapel. He liked the idea when he first met his tenants and said he sees a growing demand for service businesses in these retail centers.

“Retail just generally around the country is taking a huge hit on the larger properties, but when you’re dealing with these outlet centers, I think service is part of the new market,” he said.

Couples can bring in a photographer or pick their own song, but the packages at Firefly include music and keepsake pictures. In one of the two private dressing rooms, there’s a small sign: “Forgot your bouquet? Don’t dismay.” The chapel’s borrow-a-bouquet option has three arrangements of fabric daisies, in white, pink and orange, to use if needed. The white one was Price’s.

“I felt silly when I wrote this,” said Price of the rhyme. “And then, lo and behold, someone forgot their bouquet.”

So far, the chapel has hosted only a handful of weddings. The owners said they know who their target audience is, but they’re still figuring out the best way to advertise to them. Firefly’s couples might not attend a big wedding expo, for example.

“Most of them have found us just by googling ‘micro weddings’ or ‘small affordable weddings,’ ” said Price.

Poro and Gillespie, both 35, met at a bingo game while they were both students at the University of South Dakota. Now, they both work at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard; Poro is an assistant planner and Gillespie is a chemist. They commute to work together and have two cats, Higgins and Grizzles.

After going over some basics about the wedding in a call with the Firefly owners, Poro and Gillespie married on Oct. 8. They had a few guests and went out for a seafood dinner with Gillespie’s parents. The only stressful moment came in the middle of the ceremony when Poro suddenly wondered if he and his about-to-become wife were supposed to have written their own vows. (You can, but you don’t have to.) Price, as the officiant, guided them through the rough spot.
 
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