It’s getting quieter here in South Freeport, Maine – that is, everything except the interstate, which I can’t hear in winter. Even the new leaves can’t muffle you all coming north to Maine to escape.
My personal life is quieter. Children don’t need money or advice so often. Mary Ellen and I are on or off. We know the drill.
The squirrels now know their place for now.
But the birds are more active and demand more of my attention and even though I consider myself a South Freeport porch addict/expert, I’m still a virgin to their spring antics.
The seagulls are fighting for rights to drop shellfish on the “beach.” I live at the end of sandy beach road and I’m sure there is sand somewhere. The seagulls have found the hardest of the clay and like dive bombers, from an altitude of 20 feet they drop their prey, then swoop down.

It’s like a war movie.