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orourke's blog

All Things Pumpkin

It’s pumpkin season here on the mid-coast of Maine. So much so you’d think that calendars should automatically make the word “October” start with the round orange orb. Everywhere we look there are joyous signs of this garden mascot, from the pumpkins on the lawn at the Foliage Festival at Boothbay Railway Village to the pumpkinboat regatta at the Damariscotta Pumpkin Fest to the Great Pumpkin Hunt at Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens.

Head North: there’s still time

The “Peanuts” cartoon this morning had Snoopy wishing one of his feathered friends a fond farewell. The last panel showed the bird flying back across the frame, with Snoopy thinking “I knew he was headed the wrong way, but didn’t want to tell him.”

Into the Maine September woods

This year is the 150th anniversary of the posthumous publication of Henry David Thoreau’s The Maine Woods, and the musings he derived from three trips on the lakes, rivers and mountains between 1846 and 1857. We’re reminded of it now when September brings the yellow woods that Robert Frost wrote about. Frost’s “path diverged in a yellow woods” and taking the one “less traveled by, made all the difference.”

Coming around to apples

Looking out the kitchen window the other day, we noticed the very tips of some of the hardwoods are starting to turn color. As we stood watching them in the morning sun, we were trying to decide how we would describe the gradual lengthening of the fall foliage ‘shadow’ as it spreads across the branches of  Mid-Coast Maine. We hit upon the comparison with ripening fruit (or pumpkins). And that brought us around to apples.

Boothbay Harbor golf links to history

In 1682 when two English noblemen teed off at Hoy Lake against the Duke of York and local shoemaker, John Patersone to determine whether the game of golf had originated in England or Scotland (the Duke and the Scots won), Maine was still the American frontier, a wilderness of dark spruce forests crowding down to a rocky shore.  Yet already Maine was being eyed for settlement, by 1764, Europeans had settled Boothbay sufficiently to incorporate a town. Another hundred years and the coast of Maine had become vacationland for rusticators and holiday-makers streaming out of the Northeast cities on trains and steamers to places like Spruce Point Inn, expanded from a gentleman’s hunting/fishing lodge to an inn in 1892. Golf kept pace.

Palawan sails in with priceless memories


Funny thing, history, memories, how the past comes back around…

One of the prized possessions and chapters in Spruce Point Inn history is this photograph, hanging in our lobby, of Robert Kennedy, with his wife Ethel, Mr. & Mrs. John Glenn, Andy Williams and Claudine Longet and other guests, posing aboard their sailboat that had just tied up at the Spruce Point Inn dock.

Happy birthday, Boothbay!

August 22 marks the start of Boothbay’s 250th anniversary, an event celebrated with classic New England homecoming celebrations – a parade, seafood festival and fireworks.  As a resort rooted in the early days of Boothbay’s emergence as a summer destination, Spruce Point Inn salutes our history and the deep affection we have for this point of land.

400 years of corn, ocean and moonlight

Four hundred years ago, Captain John Smith sailed along the Coast of Maine, landing at the fishing camps on Monhegan Island and the Isles of Shoals. Already Europeans had sailed west to the teeming grounds now known as the Grand Banks. Maps of the coast were published in London in 15xx; But John Smith’s own 1614 map named the whole region “New England” and was popularized for a century.

Maine lobsters salute you

Lobsters and lighthouses. There’s no escaping the iconic ‘odd couple’ of summertime Maine. They are to our visitors Down East what the Statue of Liberty is to Manhattan, the Strip to Las Vegas, the cherry trees to Washington DC.

A sense of Wyeth’s place in Maine

They say that Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World” is one of the most-recognized paintings in America. It’s a vision of a woman in a summer-dry field; a grey farmhouse in the distance. The story of the woman, Christina Olson and the family farm in Cushing, Maine is one of Andrew Wyeth’s enduring, some say “wondrous strange” fascinations with the people and places of Maine. Andrew was not alone in his love affair with Maine – his father NC and his son Jamie have also put paint to the romance, history and landscape of our sea and sky.