We welcomed-in October in a memorable way yesterday. We had dinner with old friends who would soon be going back to their metropolises. We dined on the deck of their rented cottage in Brooksville, at the edge of Eggemoggin Reach. That is, we were diagonally across from the northern tip of Little Deer Isle and its dormant Pumpkin Island Lighthouse.
The food was great – fresh mozzarella burrata with oil, exquisite lemon chicken, perfectly- prepared salad and vegetables and a French apple tart (tarte normande), all with good wines and coffee later. The conversation was better – old folks reminiscing about the good old days and complaining about the disturbing present. AND, the sunset on that chilly evening was better yet.
Last night’s sundown wasn’t one of those celestial Mardi Gras celebrations that we can have when the air is cold and clear. No, it was what might be described as your standard-issue, good Down East sunset: many subtle, intermixing shades of gray and the sun performing her robust solo, which included a majestic glitter path seemingly delivered only to us.
Yes, we ate dinner with jackets on. Yes, soon after the sunset, some of us were shivering and we went inside to continue talking in front of a fire. Yes, we ate too much, drank too much and talked too much. And, yes, we made plans to do it again next year if we live that long. This may be a Northern thing.
(Image taken in Brooksville, Maine, on October 1, 2026.)