Hidden Maine

I Know I Was Lucky

This is a pitch for why you need the cloud for backup storage. One day several years ago, I was down at this cove and walked out to my favorite tide pool. I walked out to the seaside of the pool and stepped on a moist portion of the smooth rock, and fell into the ocean. It was August. As I plunged in, my first thought was this was much warmer than I thought it would be. My second thought was that I needed to get out of here fast; my iPhone was in my back pocket. The rock I had been standing on was polished smooth and rounded down into the water and had a fine slick film of green algae covering the surface. There was nothing to grip onto. I floundered around for a while. My third thought was I hope no one is looking from up on the cliff. This is one of my life’s most undignified moments. I finally found a chunk in the rock and crawled out of the water like a sea creature.

I laid on the rock for a while catching air, then reached into my back pocket for the phone. The screen was black. I went home, changed, and drove to the Apple store and told them my story. They called over their appropriate Genius. He asked, “Do you have photos on this phone?”

I said, “Yes, 7000!”

He asked if I wanted to buy another phone. I asked him if there were any other way. He said, “I can probably restore your contacts and all your pictures. I will need to pull the SIM card.”

“I want the photos, pull the ISM card.”

Forty minutes later I walked out with a new phone that wea re-loading every thing from the cloud. My best advice? I had cloud backup. Get it from your phone. Also, be careful of the slippery rocks seaside.

When I got home I went back to the cliffs and my tidepool. The tide had dropped and I saw two feet away from where I fell in a sharp pointed rock that was two feet away from where I fell just below the surface. It was nearly identical to the rock in this video. I was lucky. Had I been two feet over when I fell, I could have been impaled by a pointed rock just below the surface.

The cloud won’t protect you from falling but it can make your phone life simpler.

Sunday, November 27, 2022. The tide was running particularly high. The time was 1:17. High tide was 1:07. Sunshine on the beach grass. Sunlight on the lighthouse on Wood Island at the other end of Saco Bay. I came close to not going, but I went and got this shot. I sat on the sea wall and actually saw what was there. Sun low in the November sky, light on the water, it was beautiful.

Location: Higgins Beach, Scarborough, Maine looking to the south and Saco and Biddeford Pool. Those of you who live out of state have no idea how beautiful our winter seas can be. With the sun low in the sky there is an elemental simplicity to what may be called our off-season.

Olden Days
Christmas Trees
And Traditional Gift Wrapping

In the olden days, when our brick-and-mortar showroom was open at Christmas, we had a big Christmas tree decorated with big box presents beautifully wrapped beneath. In our two big windows at the street level on Congress St, we had two Christmas trees with dozens more big boxes wrapped beneath the trees. Our street-side windows were spectacular.

As 2020 arrived, we redefined ourselves as a Gallery of Fine Jewelry and passed on putting up the Christmas trees. We felt sad. We did, though, love our new Gallery of Fine Jewelry on the web and the 1400 items well pictured, well described in detail, and ready to buy and ship.

Christmas 2020 came and went, and in our Cross building storage room, we had 50 big boxes spectacularly wrapped in Christmas colors. To make more room for our Cross Gallery shipping expansion, we decided to lighten up our storage, and in February 2020 we packed up the pick-up truck with 50 big bold beautifully bowed boxed packages to take to the recycling center.

This truck and its contents were beautiful. It was a veritable Christmas card of beauty. I brought it home on a Friday night following a Thursday snowstorm. The land was covered with snow. The packages were so beautiful I even questioned disposing of them. I took a dozen packages out to the hammock and took pictures. Then, I thought I’ll take the packages down to the cliffs and get a seaside perspective. It took a long time to unload 20 wrapped packages from the truck and carry them to the cliffs.

I remember thinking that if anyone in my neighborhood saw the truck and saw the packages on the cliffs, they’d think someone was crazy. I was out there for over an hour stacking, photographing, then re-loading the truck.

No one came along at that time that I am aware of. If they did, no one has ever said anything. I have no regrets. The pictures were beautiful, and even though it was late February, it felt like a grand conclusion to one hundred Cross Christmas trees.

The Dump Master

At the recycling center, the dump master came over as I parked the truck and said, “You know what I am going to ask.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“What in the world are you doing? I’ve seen everything here. Santa has never pulled up a sleigh to one of our bins. There’s got to be a good story here.”

I explained: jewelry store, big Christmas trees, lots of wrapped packages…

He said, “Are you sure?”

I said, “We need the room.”

“Should I check for valuable content?”

“I’m certain they’re all empty.”

He asked if I would mind if he brought the rest of his crew over to take a look. “This is so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As I unloaded the truck, the big red box with the white ribbon was so beautiful I put it in the front seat and brought it back with me. The red box with the white ribbon is sitting on the fireplace hearth. It’s still there over a year later. Christmas is such a magical time of year.

We are often asked when we are opening again. We don’t have a time laid out We too miss our showroom, all of you and our direct customer contact. And yes, when we return, we will wrap another 50 or so packages and I will bring in the red box with the big white satin bow. It would be nice to tie the past to the future.

Grass the color of a broom. Water the color of Windex. Waves frothy white like freshly fallen snow. This was our beach in November. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen so much tawny yellow beach grass in one place, at one time. It was beautiful with the late afternoon sea breeze.

Location: Higgins Beach, Scarborough, Maine looking towards the Cape Elizabeth shore.

A Cliffside Surprise

I thought it might make an interesting video of someone sitting cliffside silhouetted against the blue sea beyond.

I did a did a double take as I was filming, it looked like the person in the distance was wearing a bike helmet. We were on a coastal hike, no place for a bicyclist. Curious I got a little closer. I was surprised by what I found.

A flashback summer moment.

Some Bees Really Do Prefer a Great View

We hiked the Great Head Trail across from Sand Beach in Acadia National Park. There’s some rock scrambling so best not to wear your sandals. It was one of the hottest days of the summer – high 80’s, humid and full sun. The views were worth the effort. The bees know.

After finishing the hike, we thought we’d change into our swimsuits and spend some time on Sand Beach. Before changing, we dipped our toes in the water and were shocked at how numbingly cold it was.

At the entrance to the beach there’s a sign that cautions beachgoers about the cold water even in the height of summer. We all agreed there was no need for swimwear, ankle deep was enough.

A flashback summer moment.

Today’s Hidden Maine is not so hidden. Jordan Pond is one of the most visited places in Acadia National Park. Last summer we attempted to visit and left because the parking and crowds were too much. This summer, we had a different plan.

After a quick breakfast, we were in the car by 7:30. It was perfect – easy parking, a few people on the trails, a couple of kayaks and a canoe on the water. It was a great quiet morning on Jordan Pond.

Our secret? We got advice from friends. “Go early, ” they said, and we did. Our best advice if it’s a nice day is to go early. Then you’ve got a parking space and you own the place. -S.L.P.

August 19, 7:14 AM 68°

Retreating tide. Small waves settling in along the coast. Lobster buoys dot the surface of the water. Sun on water, shaded along the shore by a long grey cloud. Two lobster boats are headed out to sea. Two lobster boats are parked, pulling traps.

Beaufort scale wind 1, slight air movement coming from behind, heading out to sea. All is silent. All is still, except the sound of waves.

Why come? Why sit? What do I think I may discover? Perhaps, it’s nothing. Perhaps, it’s just the sit and a sip of coffee and being present to the sea and land at its edge. I glance up, 27 ducks are swimming up shore. Three more boats are heading down shore and out to sea. All is silent beyond the waves stirring below.

This is a large canvas with four feet of greenery in front of me. Twenty feet out, the rock is tan, taupe, grey, and twenty feet below, the water on the morning’s sea is grey teal. Dots on this canvas are moving. They appear and then disappear. Air movement is slight. Delicate yellow wheatgrass vibrates imperceptibly.

A gull comes down the shore. It’s the most dramatic moment of the morning. He has big white wings tipped in grey and black. He’s gliding, circles twice. 40 feet out he dips, descends, lands on the water or cliffs below. A single-engine plane flies up the coast.

From where I’m sitting, I can see 13 boats. All except one are headed down the coast and out to sea. It’s now 7:42. I hear a twin-engine plane up above the clouds. Four dozen boats have passed in the last half hour. The world is coming alive. I know why I have come.

My Maine Morning Meditation

This is 6:32 in the morning. Our skies depend on temperature, on time, on grand Earth events: volcanoes, fire in the west, the jet stream, and maybe global warming.

I love my mailbox and morning newspaper walk. It’s a type of meditation. It’s time enough for the water to boil for oatmeal and coffee. It’s time to breathe and prepare for a new day.

The ocean is pastel blue.

The sky is peach, pink, yellow.

The video is 17 seconds. You have to watch closely to actually tell that it’s a video. The Sumac moves ever so slightly.

What I find interesting at the sea shore is the meeting of land and sea. Both are strong, rich, and intense with lifeforms: fish swimming within feet of the wet stone edge, seaweeds flourishing, kelp, barnacles, lobsters, crabs, and on the landside, forests and flowers thriving right out to the edge. Plants thinning only within the last few feet of upland and the reach of salt spray.

Then comes the DMZ of barren rock scoured and swept clean by surf, wind, and rain with cliffs, cobble beaches, and vast stretches of sand.

On this cliff, a small evergreen clings to almost bare rock, while 30 feet below, salt waves thrash the cove twice a day. Today it’s foggy, strong sea breeze from the open ocean, air temperature 69°. I had a light fall jacket on. Yesterday, air temperature was 95°. Both days were beautiful here in Maine, 20 minutes from downtown Portland.

Peace, Serenity, Tranquility
A Row Boat in Heaven
On an August Afternoon

We’re all striving to find perfection. We’re all looking for that ideal moment. I believe I know where perfection is. And, while I can identify many great moments in life, I know one place I have found perfection is on the sea. It’s serenity in my row boat at high tide. It’s an August afternoon: full sun, warm temperatures, and a combination of humidity and the sea breeze that makes it so you can barely feel the air.

My grandparents had cottages on this beach, my parents had cottages on this beach, and I have a cottage on this beach. The cottage is near the end of the beach, adjacent to a tidal marsh, and has a granite dock with kayaks and a row boat. The kayaks are good; the rowboat is the ticket to heaven.

I know the moment of high tide every day; today it’s 3:44. The tide chart is magnetized onto two refrigerators. I’ve got a copy in my truck. High tide is on my phone. I leave home at 3. I arrive at 3:15. I toss a life jacket into the boat.

Fifty years ago, boating was about the destination. Now, it’s about being here now in this moment of sky and sea. I’m three out minutes out from the dock to this spot in the bay. I ship the oars and drift. I drink in all the blue, the stillness, and the water reaching high onto the land. Beyond are yellow fields and green trees. Listen to our video, the birds might be Piping Plovers or Least Terns in the bird sanctuary to the right.

The boat is floating in Scarborough, beyond is the Spurwink River and the hill is Cape Elizabeth. I could just drift and be happy. Today I will row upriver.

Don’t Tell Anyone!
Cape Elizabeth’s
Best Kept Secret Beach

I’ve lived in Cape Elizabeth for 48 years. My first house was a ten-minute walk away from this beach. I never knew it was there. I read about it recently in our town newspaper, The Cape Courier.

For two years I’ve had my spring-summer oil change and inspection done at two different shops nearby. They asked the same question, “Do you want to wait?” “Yes, I’ll go for a walk,” I said to both. I knew where I wanted to go. A five-minute walk took me to Cliff House Beach Park. I was surprised that I could be so close, and drive by two times a day within 300 feet, and never know of its existence.

The cliff is 40 feet above the beach. A sturdy aluminum staircase goes down to a rock beach, and at low tide, a sand beach. The lighthouse is Ram Island Light and marks the entrance to Portland Harbor.

This video was taken at 8:30 in the morning. I now look forward to my annual inspection and spring oil change and my hour at the beach. Parking is free. Promise not to tell anyone!

From Last Week’s
Mystery Shore Bird Enquiry

Thanks so much. We had a nice response from many. 80% said Short-billed Dowitcher. Now when I’m out in the field and someone says what’s that. I can say with 80% certainty, “It’s a Short-billed Dowitcher.”

Help! What’s This
Shorebird Called?

Our cottage is on the edge of a state bird sanctuary. We have nesting Piping Plovers and Least Terns on the sandy dunes out front. We have Geese, Ducks, White and Blue Herons, and of course Seagulls in the marsh out back. We have Eagles up high, watching the sand dunes, the marsh, and the Spurwink River.

Early one evening, I rowed from our dock and was met first by one bird, then two new birds I’d never seen before. They flew out of the tree line and landed in the marsh grass by Angel Creek. First one, then the other flanked me on either side. I stopped rowing, shipped the oars, and drifted by sea breeze to their shore. Both birds chirped away. They had a lot to say.

I was curious. They had long beaks. I took pictures and filmed. Later, I went back to the cottage. Our center room is called the Audubon room because we have a bronze sculpture of blue herons, a hand-carved duck decoy, five other bird sculptures, and 100 bird books. We have the baby elephant Audubon Book of American Birds, weighing in at 13 pounds, measuring 15 inches by 12 inches by 3 inches. It’s big and filled with copies of big bird paintings.

We also have Sibley’s Birds of North America. Sibley’s has a million birds pictured. I thought I would arrive at certainty in minutes. I admit to being a bit puzzled. My top three choices are:

• Long Billed Dowitcher
• Short Billed Dowitcher
• Wilsons Snipe

The birds seemed much too large for Sandpipers. In my 70 years at this beach, I’ve never seen anything like them. Help! I’m open to any possibilities.

Email me at info@crossjewelers.com

Thanks for helping.

The Family of Dogs

July 4th, any year. 7 – 9 AM. Thirty to forty acres of flat, smooth low tide beach. 100 people, 80 dogs of all sizes, all colors, all breeds, leash-free. Wild, free, fun. Racing, running, chasing, barking. Thirty surfers. Watch in the video for the guy and his dog surfing on a paddleboard.

Our Family Has Loved This Place for a Long Time

The Cross family has had cottages on Higgins Beach in Scarborough, Maine for 75 years. We sun, we swim, we play, and we launch boats and kayaks from our granite dock. And mornings before 9 AM, we walk the beach to be with the greatest gathering of the family of dogs in their moments of pure joy and ecstasy. Every day of the summer, from dawn till 9 AM, dogs and their people rediscover and reinvent the beach.

Weekends, more come from surrounding towns. The grandest day of the season is the 4th of July. If it’s a day of good weather and cooperating tides, Higgins is an open arena and the happiest place on planet Earth. Come with your dog or just come for the pure pleasure of it all.

We picked up sandwiches in downtown Camden. I looked on the map for an interesting spot to have lunch. Curtis Lighthouse Overlook seemed promising. It’s easy to miss; parking is limited to off-the-shoulder and just a couple of spots. You have to be lucky. A wooded trail is marked with a simple sign. The short path leads to a bench with a view of Curtis Lighthouse and the entrance to Camden Harbor.

Two videos – a boat headed out and a boat returning. Look closely; there are two kayakers in the first video. Penobscot Bay on a sunny summer day is a little slice of paradise. Our little boy was more interested in the potato chips. -S.P.

Baby Ducks
Play Catch up With Mom

I left the dock on a morning tide and increased my adventure by rowing out toward the open ocean more than a mile against the tide. I found a place on the Cape shore where marsh grass stops and rock cliffs begin. I pulled the boat up on the last stretch of sandy shore, took my life jacket up to the rock cliff, and found a comfy place to stretch out on a warm day in the shade.

I watched my beach across the water. Little voices playing in the surf. Kayakers paddling out in green, red, orange, and yellow boats. Far enough out to catch rising breaking waves and ride them in.

I sat for a long time thinking of nothing, dreaming of a late spring day, when I noticed two baby ducks paddling alone about 30 feet away. I’ve learned “slow” when retrieving a camera from a pocket to not startle nature or have nature change its behavior because I’m noticed or seen as a threat. I caught the little ducks paddling peacefully, then saw them surprisingly speed up when the mom and other big ducks appeared further out within and beyond the seaweed.

Wedding on a Hill in Maine

A late summer wedding just north of Ellsworth, Maine. We had never been to this neck of the woods before. We walked up the dirt road toward the farmhouse. To our left an open field of blueberries ripe and ready to pick. The roofline of a red house and red barn, perfectly in-line with the hill stood between green earth and blue sky.

Several houses stood on top of the hill. One was the bride’s family’s. The property has passed down through several generations. Taking it all in, I thought how lucky the bride was to grow up with blueberry fields, big sky, and mountain top views.

Someone mentioned Andrew Wyeth’s Christina’s World. I could see it.

Fields and open sky east and west. To the south, the peaks of Acadia National Park on the horizon.

The ceremony complete, the bride and groom officially married, talk turned to the strong thunderstorm headed our way. We could see it coming. Dark clouds swept towards us. I love wild weather and couldn’t resist stepping out from the tent to watch the sky and feel the wind.

This video is taken looking north, a weathered storage shed and antique plow in the foreground. Nothing much happens. There’s lightning a few seconds in. You can hear the faint rumble of thunder and the sound of wedding guests gathered under the white party tent.

Minutes after this video, the rain came down in sheets. Strong winds shook the tent and sent many running to take shelter in the nearby garage. The storm passed quickly. Everyone was in good spirits, even those who got soaked when they ran for safety. It all contributed to a memorable event. The sun came out and the party went on. It was a great wedding on a hill in Maine.

Butterfly on Butterfly Bush

I found myself in a rustic garden on an island in Maine last weekend. The garden had a deep pink butterfly bush in the center and was humming with butterflies and bees coming to partake in the flowers. I returned several times over the course of the weekend to stand in the garden and watch as the butterflies fluttered from branch to branch.

I saw something today I’d never seen before, a green crab digging a hole in the sand off the end of our granite dock. He opens, appearing to kick sand back into the hole. His actions first appeared to be contradictory, then it looked like he was sifting sand. With his left claw he bundled a surprising quantity of sand and headed eight inches to the right to deposit and spread. I spent a fair amount of time watching. When the tide had finally left the creek I went back. He’d dug about five inches down. His sand hole was deep and filled with water. I could see the outline of his shell a fine silt sand covering his shell.

I’m 72; I love these bigger numbers. I even cheat and claim I’m the next number up, “Year 73”. My family has had cottages on our beach for nearly 100 years.

In this photograph, I’m standing on Higgins Beach in Scarborough, Maine. The next beach over is Scarborough Beach. One branch of my family had cottages and a livery stable, The Kirkwood, on Scarborough Beach. My great grandfather rented horses and wagons to Winslow Homer at Prouts Neck.

The photo shows ducks, a mother duck and two babies in the foreground, out beyond are three more ducks. Out beyond that is Winslow Homer’s Prouts Neck. When we were 6, 7, and 8 we spent hundreds of hours every summer exploring these tide pools for crabs, lobsters, sea urchins, and starfish.

Visit Maine and our 3,500 mile coast this summer. Any place you stay in Maine holds immense history and magic. And yes, our retail store is still closed. The good news is you can shop our website of over 1,000 awesome items and shipping USA is always free.

Portland, Jewel of the Maine Coast
Maine’s Gold Coast Starts Just a Few Blocks From Our Store

A couple of times a year, I leave our Cross building on Free St and wander down five blocks of back streets to Portland’s waterfront. Somedays, the gold of lobstermen meets the gold of jewelers. I found this idyllic scene on one of our wharfs. This is worthy of a Salvador Dali painting.

A rare winter day, full sun, blue sky, seemed almost like summer in December. I even found a Dandelion on my lawn. Good ocean waves coming into Crescent Beach from the south east, wind from the north east, and a fine feathery blowback from cresting waves. Fifty cars, one hundred people, forty dogs, and one guy on a bike. He rode out to the point, struck a pose in silhouette against cresting waves and afternoon sun.

This was taken on the shortest day of the year, December 21. This is Atlantic sunrise. What it means on December 21st is the sun has gone as far south as it can and will go. With dawn on December 22nd, the sun is on its way back. Spring is returning and summer is not far behind. And, while some say winter is just beginning, we say spring is on its way; the days are getting longer.

On any evening, after the sun goes down I step out to the porch to sense the night, to feel the air, to scan the ocean. On this night, I saw a ship anchored at the horizon in the dark. I saw its three bright lights in the black sky and sea.

I’m seeing more Hermit crabs today than we ever had back in the 1950’s and 1960’s. I could be wrong, but kids are so observant, how could we have missed them? I see so many now. Sometimes in the shallow puddles at low tide there can easily be a dozen or two. Built more like little lobsters with a curly tail, they are easy to spot scurrying about. Pick on up and they retreat inside quickly. Hold the shell for a minute and they slowly emerge. The claws explore, and if it’s a big hermit the pincher can actually catch a finger. It’s 7:55AM in the distance, out of focus is Prouts Neck.

We live in an amazing place, Maine. There is a hidden beauty here, sometimes just a few hundred feet from places we all know, or have seen on calendars and postcards. We thought, in these times of restricted travel, we would share secret places, here in Maine, places that often, only locals know. We will be sending these “Hidden Maine” secret places emails on Sundays. Usually, these emails will feature no jewelry, nothing we’re trying to sell or promote. Often, we will provide only general clues as to where the secret places are, no GPS coordinates. And yes, sometimes we will tell you exactly where, and occasionally how to get there.

So many interesting things happen as the days grow shorter. Morning light is lower in the sky. On November 22, we are just 30 days from the shortest day of the year. Morning air temperatures now are in the high 30s. The oak leaves are brown rust and Japanese maples are still red and fading. Low light and a wind riffled sea.

I love my morning walk to the mailbox. It takes me 40 seconds down and 5 minutes back. I’m a kid on my walk back. I’m looking into the sun. My world is in silhouette. The driveway is 60 feet above the sea. The wind, the leaves, the sounds, I am caught by the purity and simplicity of the elements….and what I love this morning: the clouds over the sea, and hammock. Will this ever be repeated? Tomorrow, guaranteed, will be different.

Sunday morning I went to the cliffs. In the distance, through the haze, five miles down the coast is Two Lights. Look closely, mid-screen three loons sit on the rock. Behind me is Portland Headlight and between me and Two lights is a sparkling sea with bell buoys.

This is one of my favorite meditation points on the coast of Maine. I often go with the intent of spending five minutes…I’m often here for an hour.

Fierce winds overnight. Trees uprooted, big branches falling out of trees, leaves scattered like confetti. Gray skies. Morning sea winds still strong. Thunder waves at cliffs. The air is still warm enough to go down by the shore to watch.

There’s a reason millions of people come to Maine in July and August…blue skies, 3,500 miles of coastline.

Here’s what you miss not seeing the state in our other ten months of the year. Our gray-green sea, heavy clouds, wind and waves. If you’re here year round, on interesting days, it’s a quick jaunt down to the shore to see what’s up. This is a view 500 feet from Portland Headlight.

The waves were rolling at Roaring Rock Point in York on this late winter early spring day. Wave watchers and cold water surfers were out enjoying this sunny Sunday morning. Video catches a surfer ride a wave to shore against the sun dappled sea.

Ocean temperature: 38 degrees.
Air temperature: 52 degrees.

Sea foam whipped from frothy waves jiggles like jello in the wind. Eight-inches deep in spots, I’d never seen anything like it. It was a great early spring wave day.

East Point Sanctuary, in Biddeford Pool, is a spit of land with a wind swept field and rocky beach out at the point. The distant lighthouse is Wood Island Light.