chaos

The saying, "You never know how much you have until you have lost it," has certainly struck home this week.  Homeschoolers have so much freedom in their daily lives to get up when they wish, start school when they want, and have their lives centered around their family, rather than around other's schedules. For 9 years we were able to sign the children up for multiple activities because their schoolwork could be completed by mid afternoon most days and they didn't have homework to interfere with evening events. 

Now our days begin with 5:40 revilie, followed by the van driving away at 7am. I do have a lot more time now to work with the boys on their schoolwork without the big kids monopolizing all my attention, so we do play many games and they have more educational computer time. But our afternoons are complete chaos. Last Tuesday was a good example with having to pick up the 3 big ones at 2:40, drive them 25 minutes to their soccer games, pull Will out just after the first half and drive like a mad woman back home to get him to piano lessons at 6:15 (he was still 15 minutes late). Then I had to fix dinner for everyone else and the poor kid was still doing homework at 9pm, when my eyes closed for the night. We have piano lessons for various children 3 evenings a week, Boy Scouts on Wednesday, Cub Scouts on Thursday, and Tim takes over on an occasional Monday so I can go to quilt group. I have spent over $100 in gas this week just to drive everyone up and back to Bangor 2-3 times a day. 

There isn't any activity I am willing to give up right this moment and soccer only lasts another 3 weeks or so. But it has been quite an adjustment going from staying home and doing school in our jammies to being like the Zizzer-Zoof salesmen in Dr. Seuss' Sleep Book,
  

 "All day they've raced around in the heat, at top speeds, Unsuccessfully trying to sell Zizzer-Zoof Seeds Which nobody wants because nobody needs. Tomorrow will come. They'll go back to their chore. They'll start on the road, Zizzer-Zoofing once more." 

1st day of school

Tim starts his new job next Monday, so for the kid's first week of Catholic school he is driving the 30 minute route and dropping them off and I am picking them up in the afternoon. Our first day of homeschooling just the little boys was so peaceful, they did their work, did their chores, and I let them watch a movie while I organized and cleaned my quilting room. Charlie doesn't have half of his books yet since I put off enrolling him until yesterday, but he did read aloud, practice his catechism questions and prayers, listen to science and history, and do an art project with his little brother and sister. 

When I went to pick up the big kids Maggie was so exuberant that she almost hit her head on the ceiling, "I loooove school!" Will related a teacher's warning about, "don't get near the cars, you might get run over," that he got in gym class. He was so disgusted, "Mommy, I'm a Star Scout and was directing traffic at the Strawberry Festival when I was 10," at being treated like a little kid that we both pretended we were that safety conscious about other activities. "Don't touch that paper, you might get a boo-boo on your little finger." 

Mary was a completely different story, she was incensed that I sent them on the first day wearing "the wrong thing." Apparently every other girl wore a skirt and she felt like a dork wearing khaki pants. Even after admitting that she was making friends and that they use the same Saxon math series she has worked through for the past 3 years, she couldn't sleep last night due to nerves about a math test today. I sat with her, gave her a pep talk, and gave her a stuffed animal to hold before going back to bed myself. Math is not her weak subject by far, I'm far more concerned about her spelling and writing skills. My worry is the time factor, between soccer practice, practicing the piano, and homework, I don't know how much free time they will have each day. We seemed to have jumped onto the busy family bus and I doubt we will disembark until next June.         

labor day race

Sunday night I had nightmares, all involving people not understanding how important it was for me to get to the start of the Labor Day 5 miler before the 9am start. Despite all my anxiety-inducing dreams, I managed to be at the start in plenty of time and ran the first mile in 6:10, perhaps a bit fast, but I knew that if I wanted an overall 7:30/mile pace I would have to go fast the first two miles to make up for the "goat path" hill around mile 3 that seems to go straight up and up and up and finally flattening out in front of Stephen King's house with his creepy bat-themed wrought iron fence. 

I finished in 35:40, a 7:08 pace, a full 4 minutes faster than last year's time, but not fast enough to win my age group. I was bummed for a bit, but then found out the women's overall winner was 41, running a 6:20/mile pace, just not something I am capable of. My guilt mitigated, I met the rest of my family at the Sub 5 track club party, where we ate, played games, and talked running. The season is beginning to wind down and I will be looking forward to more restful dreams and sleeping in on weekend mornings. 

  

all in one house

Tim finished up his last day of work down in the southern part of the state and starts his new job next week. So, for the first time in a decade all our family is residing in one location all year. No more deployments, no more admitting "summer people" status, no more waving goodbyes on Sunday afternoon. I can't recall all the times over the past 10 years when I thought I packed an item and realized too late that it was 1000 miles away in a drawer, or a piece of music for piano lessons was left behind, or I couldn't remember if I had enough pillowcases and needed to pack more. This morning was the first nippy day of the season, chilly enough that I had to pull out a wool blanket to cover myself at 2am. 

My box room with its neatly organized bins for kid's clothes was raided for Julia Ellen's fall wardrobe instead of the usual September scramble as I forgot to pack enough larger warm clothes for the smallest child. She is now adequately prepared with 5 pairs of footed pjs, long pants, and a half a dozen turtlenecks. It is so comfortable feeling that if I need an item it is somewhere in this house and all I have to do is unpack the rest of the boxes to find it.   

my second win

On Saturday I left my family and company to drive over to Skowhegan for the New Balance 5K. With both my running shoes frayed and full of holes, I went for the hope of winning one of the 20 pairs of shoes given away by the outlet store. The weather was perfect and before the race began I noticed a mom I had noticed once at the commissary. She is also a Catholic homeschooling mom of 6, though her children are a bit older. We talked about teaching CCD and curriculum and I assume being distracted helped me, because I ran very smoothly and finished with a new PR of 21:58 and was the first female to finish. I used my prize to get Tim a free pair of shoes, he really needed them and was unlikely to purchase them himself. I'm so glad I decided to run, I not only came home with 3 pairs of new shoes, but the phone number of a new friend.

race results

harvest

Today after the children's auntie and uncle left for the rest of their vacation, the little kids and I cleaned up the garden, planted cover crops, and harvested carrots, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cauliflower. 

The carrots and cauliflower went into the freezer for winter muffins and soups, the onion was spread out on the picnic table to dry, and one of the heirloom tomatoes was sliced up, sprinkled with a bit of salt and eaten in about 4 bites by me. 

I dug up the now empty beds and after spreading a little lime and fertilizer we broadcast buckwheat seeds. The grain we planted a month ago after pulling the peas up is now blooming and perhaps we can even grind some flour to supplement our pancakes.   

course champs!

Last Sunday Tim and I raced in a brand new race in Bucksport to support their cross-country team. The male-female relay had the guy run 3 miles before his female teammate repeated the same course. The brackets were based on the couple's combined age. Tim and I ran together, his first race in at least 20 years, if you don't count running the PRT every 6 months. Despite our good times (23:47 and 22:28), we just happened to be the only pair in the 91-99 year old bracket and won a pair of t-shirts. It was nice to participate in a race that didn't count for any points in the Sub-5 series, just a lovely run through the shaded woods for fun and all the baked goods we could eat. Now that we hold the course record for our age bracket, we will see if we can hold onto it or even beat it next year. 

Tomorrow is another race for fun, the Skowhegan 5K with 20 pairs of New Balance shoes as door prizes. Last year I thought the shoes were for the place winners so I killed myself to win my bracket, only to find out afterwards that they are randomly drawn. I'll see if I can have better luck this year as both Tim and I desperately each need a new pair of running shoes. 

keychains, backpack pulls, and fun

A few weeks ago I found a Shrinky Dink Klutz book at the thrift store for $0.99. Yeah, perhaps a couple of times in my childhood I traced and colored pictures and watched someone bake them in the oven (it wouldn't have been my mother though, she recoiled from anything crafty to do with kids). The special plastic was all torn out, but I headed up to AC Moore, our local big-box craft store with my handy-dandy 50% off coupon in hand. Not only did I get a package of clear plastic discounted, I added on my teacher discount (by showing my HSLDA card) and received another 15% off. Every week on my errands I made a point to stop by and pick up another packet for less than $3. At first I was stressing out about baking them and having them ruined by curling up on themselves, but after purchasing an embossing tool (it's a cross between a glue gun and a mini hairdryer) I can bake and shape their little pictures without even turning on the oven. 

The little boys have gone wild, and while Julia Ellen may have ruined a few of their projects, the results are impressive. The most money I've had to expend in this creative explosion are for a handful of keyrings to attach them to backpacks, lunchboxes, and whatever else they can imagine. 

our last packout

Yesterday, the same day a year ago we packed out to come to Maine, the movers arrived in a big orange truck to box up and wrap in blankets all our possessions. So far the house hasn't sold, despite the picture-perfect views of the mountains and brand new granite countertops, we haven't even had a showing in over a month. But it is clean and free from everything we own now except for a few camping items and Tim's coffee pot. He has another few days of work this week and then the last week of August before he starts his new job. For 12 years I have been alone during most of the summer, shlepping kids to camp and lessons, making them clean and find stray library books, getting them ready for Mass and buying doughnuts afterwards for good behavior. And, yes I organized the packout yesterday alone as well, arriving the evening before, making sure everything went as smoothly as possible and running up to Food City for some lunch for both my crew and the movers since my husband has been living off of Stouffers frozen dinners, coffee, and ice cream. 

But now we are back at the farm and once more I need to get into high organizational mode for they will arrive tomorrow to unload the truck and I have to have this place ready. Today I have to disassemble one set of bunkbeds and pray that they will fit back-to-back with their matching bunkbed in the boy's room. Timmy is too old for a toddler bed anymore and he has been switching between sleeping on a mattress on the floor and bunking with his brother. The girls get another set of bunkbeds with drawers underneath for Julia Ellen's clothes, space is more of a premium in their room with all the dolls, stuffed animals, and such that they accumulate. The double bed in the apartment has to be taken down to the garage to make room for the queen bed from the Auburn house. All the excess beds, dressers, and kitchen items we have accumulated over the years living in two places needs to be taken to the trash and treasure building at the dump. 

Did I mention that at least some of the unpacking must be accomplished by next Thursday when Tim's sister and her husband come for a visit?  I'm not going to panic or stress out, for this is our 10th and last packout in the last 16 years of marriage and I have all the time in the world to rearrange our stuff. 

two firsts

Last Sunday Will served his first Novus Ordo Mass and I received Holy Communion from a lay person for the first time in 12 years. There are so few vocations in the diocese of Maine (only 6 current seminarians) that they have moved to a "cluster" system of staffing parishes. The 6 churches in the greater Bangor area used to be served by 12 priests, but are now covered by 2. They are very good and holy men, but worked to the bone every day, especially on weekends to say Mass at every church. Other parishes in the area are in the same boat, the Bucksport priest travels to Stonington and Castine, each town an hour away from the rectory. He literally has to run out the door after Mass to make it in time for the next one, never able to offer Confession to the outlying parishes. It is a sad state of affairs and I am fervently praying for a new bishop (our old one was transferred to Buffalo) who is orthodox and on fire for the Faith. Orthodoxy in belief and liturgy results in vocations as we can see in both religious orders such as the Nashville Dominicans and the priesthood, as evidenced by FSSP. 

Will has served as an alter server in the Traditional Latin Mass for 7 years now, ever since his FHC at St. Benedict in Virginia. But there is no TLM anywhere near Bangor, and I understand that our priests just can't do one more thing, especially something involving training and taking away another Mass to squeeze it in (they can't legally say more than a certain number of Masses each day). So I made arrangements for him to begin serving, with one non-negotiable; that he not serve with girls. I don't want to go into why I believe that girls reduce the number of boys willing to serve and why this in time dries up the feeder mechanism for future priests, because these arguments are so obvious. So, last week he served with another boy and everything was lovely, both the sacristan and the priest commented positively about his professionalism on the altar. We sat up front after the previous week's debacle, so when it came time for Communion and the priest was distributing Holy Communion to the left hand side of the church, we went up and received in the hand from the lay person. I don't recall if he attempted to bless the little ones, which is not appropriate, but I had to remind myself that while I am a stickler for doing the right thing during the liturgy, others have not had my experience and knowledge. I may be a convert, but I have read and studied the history of the Church and her traditions and know that only a priest or parent is supposed to bless a child. All in all, it was a lovely Mass and I am grateful that the parish is willing to accommodate our "quirks."

This Sunday I thought Will was scheduled to serve Mass, but as I was kneeling in the pew the sacristan asked me to come to the vestibule. He explained that two servers were already scheduled for that Mass, but one of them was a girl. It was up to me if he vested or not. I hesitated for a moment, but said, "He'll just sit with us." He was very gracious about it and promised to talk to the coordinator about having Will serve next week. This has been a big transition for our family and while we knew what we were in for when we left the Auburn area and the TLM every Sunday, it is still hard emotionally. My hope is that our example, as well as the example of other faithful families, combined with the ministry of holy priests, and hopefully a very holy and orthodox new bishop, can, in time lead to a renewal of orthodoxy and more vocations to the priesthood.

too smart by half

Last September the kids and I went to the Bangor Humane Society and brought home 2 kittens. The children and cats played, Julia Ellen dragged them around, and I fed them and cleaned their litter. Today the cats are 1 year old and one of them is not welcome in our house anymore. Star, the girl kitty, loves to lounge around all day and is polite. Night, the boy cat, is huge, muscular, and gets into trouble every day. He gets on the kitchen counters, knocks over vases of flowers, and likes to drink out of the faucet. Fresh water in his bowl every morning is not apparently aerated enough so his latest trick is to turn on the faucet by nudging the handle of the kitchen sink, leaving the water to run for hours. He doesn't merely threaten to let the well go dry, but since the hot water faucet is easier to manipulate, I have woken several mornings to steam rising from the furnace room vent, his having used so much hot water that the tank has refilled and was being heated by expensive propane. I've taken to putting mixing bowls over the handles, but it isn't really a long term solution. 

Several times I've gotten so mad to throw him outside, but all that will do is bring fleas into the house. He can't stay out there because he would be food for the nightly howling coyotes in a matter of days. But since his other trick in the past few weeks is sitting in the mudroom and bolting out the door, I think he really wants to live outside. The only option seems to be to turn Night into a barn cat. He can spend time outside, go into the barn to sleep through a kitty door, and keep the mice under control. Just as the Little Golden book, Four Little Kittens, bases its story around the idea that kittens, like children, have different personalities and vocations, some kittens are just meant to be alley cats, ship cats, barn cats, or house cats and no amount of behavior modification is going to change that.     

I love living in Maine

A few weeks ago I needed some garden product to keep the nasty striped beetles off my pumpkin and cucumber plants. After dropping off big children at some activity I only had Timmy and Julia Ellen in the van. Inevitably the toddler fell asleep just before we pulled into the Hampden Hardware parking lot. I got out and saw one of the young men who works there standing in the entrance to the back barn. "I have a dilemma. The baby is asleep and I don't particularly want to wake her up." After explaining what bug I wanted to keep off my plants, he told me that the product recommended by my gardening book is not legally available in Maine, but that he had some powder to try. While standing next to the van, I examined the product, paid for it, and got change without ever going inside. Obviously this would never happen at a suburban big-box store.


Then yesterday the kids and I finally had enough free time accompanied by beautiful weather to pick blueberries. This year is expected to be a bumper crop and our town's blueberry field certainly was evidence, the berries were so plentiful I could hold the quart basket under a clump, wiggle my fingers and see 20 berries fall in. We filled 5 quart containers and a huge flat bottomed basket in less than 30 minutes. Unfortunately, my sunglasses kept slipping down my nose and I put them in my pocket. Inevitably they fell out and even after wandering around and around we couldn't find them, since all blueberry bushes look alike. After getting home I got dressed to go running and made up a sign to put up at the entrance to the field.     

I finished my 10 mile run and sat on the porch cleaning blueberries and drinking Cocacola for a bit. While I was in the shower, a lady called and left a message saying that she found my sunglasses and left them on the picnic table. After supper I called her back to say thank you and sat on the porch thinking, "There are few finer things than being right here, drinking a tropical adult beverage, watching my kids play among the newly baled hay, and cleaning the last of the blueberries I picked this morning in Maine."

Small town Maine with its friendly people and wonderful scenery truly is "The Way Life Should Be." 

appropriate Mass behavior

On Sunday evening Will was supposed to serve his first Novus Ordo Mass. However, he had been asked a few days before if he could compete in the Red Jacket Regatta in Rockland, a small boat sailing race for youth. Tim drove down to pick him up early so he could get to Mass on time, but when he arrived, due to the lack of wind, Will was all the way across the harbor. While the sacristan was understanding of the circumstances, I hope that next week's Mass will go a little more smoothly. For in addition to Will's absence, Mary asked if we could sit in the back pew and that was a huge mistake. 

I won't go into all the details, because that would be gossip just for the sake of being nasty, but the family sitting in front of us made our family, with the smaller children drawing pictures on their bulletins and Julia Ellen drawing in my tiny notebook through Mass looked angelic in comparison. But I'll just say that there were large quantities of toys, wailing, chatting by the grownups, and Playdough was almost ground into the carpet. The woman who was sitting beside them leaned over at the end of Mass and said, "Are these your children?" "Well, it is a few of them (Timmy went with Tim to pick up Will)." "They are so well behaved and so nice looking." At this point there was a little whispering from behind me because the children knew that I would stop at the store on the way home. I waited a moment until the priest exited the church and then explained,"If they get a compliment then they get doughnuts." 

Now, I've always been one of those middle-of-the-road moms when it comes to little children and Mass, I've brought religious coloring books, bags of Cheerios, sippy cups of water, holy cards to organize in a little picture album to keep them occupied and quiet. I've rarely seen any horror shows depicted on the internet of kids bringing McDonald's Happy Meals into the cry room, screaming fits that go on through the entire homily, or Nintendo games played during the Consecration. But as I told Mary after informing her that it was all her fault for begging me to sit in the back, we will be sitting up front in the future. After 14 years of taking unruly children out of church, spending most Sunday mornings in the cry room, training babies to be quiet for the sake of those around them, I refuse to subject myself to someone else's poor parenting during Mass.  
 

learned my lesson

I've been working on an antique looking lap quilt for some time, the piecing went together quickly, but only because I didn't trim the excess fabric after I added the next row. When I started quilting, the straight lines looked great, but the free motion daisy design just kept looking awful, I had little control over the stitch length, the quilt kept refusing to move. I changed the needle, re-threaded the machine, took it in to the dealer to be cleaned and oiled, attempted to put wax paper/Pam spray on the back for more glide... nothing worked. Will and I spent over a week picking every stupid flower out, because by the time I gave up I had tried to quilt 20 flowers. They looked awful. After letting the quilt sit for a week or so, I gave it another go today. This time I quilted little leaves and spirals in the black open spaces and was successful for the most part. 

Then it hit me, my own laziness in not trimming led to all that extra work. The poor machine was quilting through, not 3 layers, but in some blocks, 5-6 layers of fabric. No wonder it was struggling and skipping stitches and refusing to move over the seams. I can't take it apart, but I will never, never sew another seam on a paper pieced block without trimming to 1/4 " again!

author read aloud

On Tuesday morning sailing was cancelled due to a forecast of thunderstorms that didn't materialize until 4:30pm. However, I had found an interesting activity for us in Stockton Springs at the library to make up for the disappointment. Chris Van Dusen, children's author and illustrator of the Mr. Magee books came to give a fabulous presentation and read aloud of 3 of his books, including one of our favorites, The Circus Ship. 

This story is based on the real 1836 sinking of a circus ship, The Royal Tar, off the coast of Vinalhaven, but with a much happier ending. The children had a wonderful time helping point out the hidden animals, Charlie and Timmy finding the trickiest ones, and have looked at the book again and again in the days since.

People who live in big cities always cite their cultural opportunities, but even in the wilds of Maine we have plays, art galleries, library concerts, and famous authors willing to share.

sick, sick, and car sick

This past two weeks have been a little draining. The week before Will went to Boy Scout camp he had  3 days of fever, diarrhea, and a dripping nose. Luckily he recovered enough by Sunday to enjoy a week of camping, canoeing, and orienteering. Julia Ellen came down with the same odd combination of symptoms this Saturday and we decided that Tim would stay home from Mass with the two little ones, there being only room for 4 children in his new car. The van was still at the shop, getting a new transmission installed. After we arrived at the church 30 minutes early, I let Charlie and Maggie go over to the playground while I called Tim on my cell phone.

"The bad news is that Charlie gets car sick in your car."

"Oh my gosh, not my brand new car!"

I couldn't let him suffer too long, "The good news is that Charlie did not get car sick IN your car. We pulled over at Hollywood Casino and he barfed in the bushes."

However, I had to call Tim back a bit later. Within 15 seconds of climbing on the playground equipment he was stung on the cheek by a wasp and started screaming. I piled everyone back in the car, stopped at McDonald's for some ice to put on his face and gave up on anyone in our family attending Mass this week.  

forced time out

Things have been falling apart at our house this past week. My internet connection was down for 3 days and since Will is at Boy Scout camp, I had no idea how to fix my modem problem (thank you to the nice man on the phone from India who kept repeating, "I apologize for your frustration," when they couldn't find my account. "But I have your satellite dish on my roof and we have had service for a year!")  My van has been in the shop since Tuesday afternoon when the transmission suddenly died. It won't be ready until Monday. And most distressing of all is that I was diagnosed with bursitis and arthritis in my sore hip. I've only run a few times since my last race and start physical therapy on Monday. I took off almost 20 years of running, mostly to have babies, and now I feel like I threw away the gift of that time. If I don't get better, I don't see how I can continue, it isn't fun to run with constant pain. 

But after having my short pity party, I realize how truly blessed I am. My connection to the world was resolved with just tightening a loose connection on my modem. My van is fixable and we can afford to make that repair. My hip seems to be improving a bit and, even if I could never run again, I can always take up swimming to stay in shape. My husband loves me, my children are all well (except for Julia Ellen's minor fever), and I have food in the pantry. There are many people who are caring for sick loved ones, millions of people don't have a job, and many more are worried about how to pay the bills. Today there are almost a hundred families in Colorado standing by a hospital bed or mourning the loss of their loved one. The only thing I can give is to offer up my pain for them, for the survivors to be given peace and have the strength to recover physically and emotionally from this massacre and for the souls of those who have been killed.    

stocking up on school supplies

It is the middle of summer, time for trips to the lake, dropping off kids at camp, swimming lessons, certainly not time to think about backpacks and notebooks, but now is the time to act if I don't want to spend a fortune on school supplies. Our local big box office supply store is Staples and they are running some great loss leaders on all the things I need this fall. When I combine that with my teacher discount card and a 15% off back to school card I bought for $10, the floor of my schoolroom is filling up with bags of gear. The big kid's school apparently does not come out with lists until the first day, by the time all the sales are over, but I can guess what items they will need and buy now. I already bought all their uniform needs at the school consignment sale last month, so all I need left are some cool lunchboxes (Maggie doesn't want to borrow her little sister's pink Hello Kitty one) and a year's worth of mechanical pencils.

curling up with a good mystery

I'd like to think that the folks who work in the Bangor Library's children's department think of our family with fondness. After all, we are likely the family with the most consistent attendance as well as sheer volume of books checked out, but more than that, we return our books within the two week checkout window. Wednesday, when we were standing at the counter I was told that one of my selections was actually on hold by someone else, but it was accidentally put on the shelf. He said that I needed to return it within two weeks, but I assured him that I would do so by Friday at the latest. The murder mystery, Death of a Kingfisher, was one by my favorite authors, M.C. Beaton, and sure enough, I had it finished within several hours of returning home that evening. If you like non-gory mysteries with a share of humor then you will like the Hamish MacBeth series that spans over 20 books and goes back at least that many years. Featuring a local copper in rural Scotland, this series is just the thing to curl up with on a rainy afternoon with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. 

The other new mystery series I enjoy also has a new title out, Aunt Dimity & the Village Witch, by Nancy Atherton. The heroine is an active mother of twin boys living in a village in England, which has an unusually large number of murders and mysteries considering its diminutive size. The author does make a point of promoting the moral equivalency of paganism and homosexuality, but the overall story is well written and just I ignore those bits.

So, these two novels will go back in the book drop bin this morning after dropping off Charlie on his last day of science day camp.He has been having such a grand time building things, making new friends, and taking things apart that he has said, "Thank you Mommy for signing me up for science camp," every afternoon after I have picked him up. Maggie has also been at camp again this week and was even on the TV news a few days ago (look for the pink hat). I wouldn't have known a thing about it, but the librarian mentioned it and pulled it up on her computer so we could watch her dance and sing, practicing for the big show next weekend.

product endorsement

Up here in Maine we have two seasons: snow season and bug season. The first flying critters out to eat you are black flies, which leave bloody welts on the neck and head. They usually last until about Father's Day, when the deer flies and mosquitoes appear. Deer flies are nasty critters who circle the head in an attempt to drive a person insane and then land on the back of the arm for a nasty bite. The only respite from all these bugs is the first frost in early October. While Maine summers are lovely and much enjoyed, there is one thing to be said for the colder months: there aren't any bugs.  

 A few weeks ago I was at the local hardware store and noticed a product near the register specifically to address this problem called Deer Fly Strips. Made by a local, this super sticky strip of what looks like packing tape has pheromones sprayed on it to attract the pests to come a little closer. Once their wings or feet touch the glue, they are stuck. In just a few hours of wearing my hat in the garden and on the front porch, I had collected 7 deer flies on the back of my hat, all frantically buzzing in an attempt to become free. Since all they wanted to do was take a chunk out of my skin, I felt no pity for the creatures. Perhaps I sound a little callous, but St. Francis never lived in Maine and saw his 3 year old's neck covered in welts from "Brother bug". I've gone back to the house to collect my hat to work in the garden and look forward to wearing it for a trail hike planned later this week. It is a little gruesome seeing out baseball hats in a a row with carcasses stuck all over,but it sure does make going outside in Maine during the summer a lot more pleasant.