Maine in Winter bears toward the new millennium and beyond, heading into maturity of body, soul, and insight. Here are thoughts and experiences from entries in S. Dorman's everyday winter and reader’s journals. Here are themes of snowy twilight since stopping in Maine, just so, at the beginning of her family's first winter in the Northeast—when the Salvation Army came to their rescue, and the in-laws, and their old friend God. After midlife and reflecting on the Big Winter—what is sometimes called Old Age—this book cycles back toward the beginning, to a flight in celebration of the New Year, new life in Maine.
How to live in rural Maine? How--in the 1980s, when descendants of Maine's settlers wonder about our coming out of the Rust Belt in search of work, in search of a life? They were not bitter about our coming here, where jobs were already scarce--they were incredulous. Why did we come? Sometimes I answered, "God." God brought us, the formerly middle-class inept, to live among these most hardy and canny of make-do people. God brought us to experience life in Maine, where my spouse sometimes worked turning and trimming four thousand boards a night, waking to drive one hundred miles round-trip to finish our undergraduate educations with the aid of loans and grants. So I studied the place where we came to live. And I forgot where we came from. Rural Maine was ragged, rugged, hardscrabble, and wild--but full of the most visible, vital, natural creation. I've tried to express that aspect of Maine life in The Green and Blue House. And there is the metaphor, also.
S. Dorman began Maine Metaphor with The Green and Blue House. She continued her explorations in the Western Mountains of Maine, studying Maine's characteristic ways and natural realm, possessing the experience, studies, and journaling of rural life and creation. And she wanted to learn about the character of the people who sometimes must live a hardscrabble life. Her quest began thirty some years ago merely in living the life on moving to Maine with her family. This state of New England, once a District of Massachusetts, greatly appealed to her for its peculiar beauty and quiet, but also for its hard-working ethic. Maine flows with metaphors helpful in understanding our right relation to creation and its Maker. Maine's people, landscape, history, geology, weather, and writers tell of this reciprocity of life. Her spouse Allen supported the family, as you'll see in the book. Not, as she says, in order that she might write, but that she might eat! After their brief familial confrontation with homelessness on moving to Maine, Allen struggled to earn a living, but now is retired, with a fixed income; yet work here is seasonal and difficult still for others making a living in the Western Mountains of Maine. Walk these back roads with her, meet some back roads folk, climb these high wooded hills and low stone mountains. Consider and dream over the telling, and come back to yourself from Maine, refreshed.
Each summer weekend can be like a holiday here in Maine. Once, to the Vikings, it was rugged Vineland; today Maine is Vacationland. After a hard, dirty winter, mild air and watery sunlit places are calling: an abundance of evocative coastal places within a couple minutes’ or couple of hours’ drive. The author experienced one beach not typical of Maine. It was different in a lively way. She and her spouse, Allen, drove to Auburn for groceries and suddenly decided—over lunch in the Nickel Diner—to go visit Old Orchard Beach before grocery shopping.Old Orchard Beach has long been a resort town, situated in a curve of Saco Bay and full of mechanized carnival life, its waterfront crammed with screaming or jovial activity, shimmering in sunlight. After a search in side streets full of summer lodgings and cars, the travelers locate a place to park, then walk down to the sea—down to “Maine on the Mediterranean.”
How to live in rural Maine? How--in the 1980s, when descendants of Maine's settlers wonder about our coming out of the Rust Belt in search of work, in search of a life? They were not bitter about our coming here, where jobs were already scarce--they were incredulous. Why did we come? Sometimes I answered, "God." God brought us, the formerly middle-class inept, to live among these most hardy and canny of make-do people. God brought us to experience life in Maine, where my spouse sometimes worked turning and trimming four thousand boards a night, waking to drive one hundred miles round-trip to finish our undergraduate educations with the aid of loans and grants. So I studied the place where we came to live. And I forgot where we came from. Rural Maine was ragged, rugged, hardscrabble, and wild--but full of the most visible, vital, natural creation. I've tried to express that aspect of Maine life in The Green and Blue House. And there is the metaphor, also.
"The naturalist, says Emerson, must satisfy all the demands of the spirit. Dana Wilde does that by uniquely unifying acute perception with that transcendental metaphysic that Emerson unabashedly called Love. Wilde is the poet of facts, his science always in the service of reverence and his universal intimations of spirit never "the easy gold of fay or elf," as Robert Frost praised a practice of the natural supernatural. Wilde is not an excursionist, but a seer who observes the comprehensive, year round fluidity of nature surrounding him and the eternal cosmos above him from his backyard in Troy, Maine. He is the best of the real thing, letting the obdurate bleakness and the rampant beauty of Maine inform each other in wit that is invariably wise and intimate. Every essay in this book can teach us like parables of understanding and reason how to unite devotion and thought to be whole people in our waking lives." --William Hathaway, author of Dawn Chorus and The Right No From first signs or unseen sense of Fall's closing in, to the certain loosening thaws and drips prefacing ice out, from First Peoples' tellings and showings to the habits of next inhabitants here, now, and in whatever untamed future survives the changing climate, this book is a fire for the darks and lights of winter in Maine. And a source, as any fire is, of realization, solace, and meditation burning perfectly, steadfastly, through Winter's grief and any joy to be found. Season by season, discovery by revelation, no one in Maine works harder, truer, nor more beautifully and imaginatively than Dana Wilde. --Patricia Ranzoni, author of Settling and Bedding Vows
THE STORY: On a cold, clear, moonless night in the middle of winter, all is not quite what it seems in the remote, mythical town of Almost, Maine. As the northern lights hover in the star-filled sky above, Almost's residents find themselves falling in and
The Art of Maine in Winter presents more than eighty works by the finest American painters who capture the beauty of winter in Maine. Winslow Homer and Rockwell Kent, for example, stayed well into the winter, creating some of the most memorable images of Maine ever made. Snow on a meadow, ice blocks in a bay, frozen winter streams, sea smoke hovering over the ocean, and houses becoming gingerbread fantasies after a snowstorm -- these are the glories of winter in Maine that have inspired artists for almost two hundred years.
