Why “Here Comes the Sun” became their favorite song.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

Or, did anyone get eaten by the black bear roaming through my ‘hood, and other relevant questions.

Built more than 100 years ago at Kennebunk Beach, this “chapel in the pines” is a treasured sanctuary for locals and tourists. (With cool music, too.)

We can’t travel out of the country these days but we can live vicariously. This article ran several months ago in TOURIST & TOWN, the best little newspaper in southern Maine. I’m sharing it with you and hoping it takes you to the island of Malta where my friend and Kennebunk caterer, Peggy Liversidge, experienced the trip of a lifetime.

Her sapphire blue tablecloth graced my dining room table for years. Now it’s a ragged mess and I’m ticked off.

Summer’s sweetest bouquets are sold at simple wooden stands on the back roads of York County.

COVID cases keep rising and many people still don’t wear face masks.

“The Gardens” is a chapter in PAGES FROM A JOURNAL, a compilation of columns written more than 40 years ago by gifted wordsmith and local treasure Joyce Butler. Reading this (and I have countless times) reminds me why I love gardening.

Videoconferencing platforms take us to funerals, weddings and graduations. I miss the real thing.