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Following the commissioning ceremony in Eastport on Saturday, Sept. 30, Machias Town Manager Bill Kitchen smiles with USS Augusta Commander Chris Polnaszek. To see more photos of the ceremony, including of the Revolutionary War Reenactors of Downeast Maine, click here. Photo courtesy Bill Kitchen

First, I’m pleased to share our third full Way Downeast podcast episode, The Lighthouses of Washington County. I enjoyed conversations with Bob Trapani, executive director of the American Lighthouse Foundation, and storyteller Delia Farris of Cutler, the granddaughter of keeper Willie Corbett and a dear friend of passionate lighthouse advocate the late Tim Harrison.

I’m also delighted to promote two outstanding local businesses — the Machias Marketplace and Angie’s Comfort Kitchen, our first podcast supporters, and kick off a feature I’ve long planned to do, the Washington County Writer’s Corner. You’ll hear Loretta Boyer McClellan as my first writing guest. You can click the photo below to hear the podcast on our website, or you can find it on almost all podcast players, with the exception of Apple, which is just taking a long time to list it. But it will be there soon, I’m sure.

And because I’m on a roll, I’ve also created another podcast episode this week, but something a little different — an audio Postcard from Washington County. Unlike my earlier podcast episodes, this one could be called a podcast snack, at just under 8 minutes long. In part, it’s my weekly essay, which you’ll also find below, with a little more added to the podcast for good measure. But it’s also another Washington County Writer’s Corner, this time featuring Machias poet Jamie Moore. I hope you’ll tune in. Find it by clicking the photo below.

Deer practicing their getaway run for when it’s time to raid my vegetable garden. Photo by Sarah Craighead Dedmon

I believe our neighborhood deer and I have an understanding about my vegetable garden. We also have an understanding about my flower gardens, but unfortunately, that understanding is that they are undefended snacks, free for the taking.

But it’s different with the veggie garden. The first year we put it in, about 10 years ago, we put up an electric fence. Our friend Rich Bard, then a wildlife biologist, advised that anything south of eight feet was just relying on the deers’ good manners. Even so, we went with six feet. One early morning, just before dawn, I was sitting at my desk next to a window overlooking the garden when I heard a commotion. I looked out to see that the top line of my fence was down and then saw a large deer standing about 10’ away from it. He must have jumped in, getting shocked by the fence on the way, and then jumped quickly out again 

He was repeatedly stamping one hoof and snorting at the fence. Then, when he heard something in the window, he turned toward the house and continued his snorting at me.

Fern, once a barn cat until last winter’s polar vortex, sitting comfortably in the herb garden sitting area. Photo by Sarah Craighead Dedmon

I know a temper tantrum when I see one, and I can forgive that kind of bad behavior because I often need forgiveness for my own bad behavior, like laughing and pointing at an angry deer who tried and failed to raid my garden.

After that incident, my husband attached boards to the top of the fence posts and ran string along both ends to create a 3-foot width, meaning deer would have to jump high and wide to get into my garden, apparently not their preference. Then, every now and then, we hung tape on the lines to draw their attention to our fortress. 

Now, my garden is a charming place, as most gardens are, with little footpaths, rows of carrots and lettuces, raised beds, and an herb garden sitting area. But the addition of these increased defenses led me to nickname it Beatrix Potter’s DMZ. Don’t look at the fence; imagine Peter Rabbit nearby. Look at the fence; imagine tower guards and belly crawling it under cover of darkness.

The next year, another deer jumped in, struck the fence, and quickly exited again, and since that time, I believe my two invaders have spread the word -- don’t hit that fence. No one has tried since, and in exchange for their good behavior, our understanding is that every fall, we take the fence lines completely down, inviting them in to dine while there are still good things to eat in the garden, like the remains of the chard, the sunflowers, and the odd large zucchini now composting where it grew.

Normally the fence comes down in October. But this year, the remains of Hurricane Lee took it down two weeks ago, primarily by knocking mammoth sunflowers onto it. At first, the deer played by the rules, eating only that which had fallen outside the garden boundaries, like the sunflower heads. This weekend, however, I see they have taken some tentative first steps into the garden, eating all of my remaining lettuce and a large amount of carrot tops. 

However, I can’t hold it against them for trying to make sense of our mixed messages. The fence will have to come down.

A deer looking innocent as it nibbles goldenrod just beyond the garden fence line. She’s keeping a watchful eye to see when the lines come down, and they’re formally invited to finish off the garden. Photo by Sarah Craighead Dedmon

For our afternoon Dunkin’ runs, our youngest child and I always drive the Rim Road into Machias and sometimes take the same route home again. But on Saturday, I drove back out on Elm Street and the Port Road to take a look at the new culvert installation that happened last week. 

Yes, it’s true. My life is fascinating.

But it can also be exciting because I did not anticipate the swale of asphalt bulging on top of the culvert. By the time I saw it, it was too late to slow down, so instead of admiring the new culvert, we caught air over it, which is not the intended purpose of a Kia SUV.

Other roadwork is coming up in our area next week, which, when completed, will mean the end of one of my favorite Machias driving games -- attempting to navigate lower Court Street toward the Legion without hitting any potholes. This is an unwinnable game without a bicycle, but it uses many of my hard-won 1980s video game skills, so I enjoy it. Though I’ll lose my game, in the end, we’ll all win when the Maine Department of Transportation repaves Route 1A, beginning in the first week of October. 

That’s no moon. Smoke from Canadian wildfires blanketed Washington County late last week and throughout the weekend. The wildfires have become such a common occurrence the state has set up an online air quality information site you can access here. Photo by Sarah Craighead Dedmon

I began Sunday by picking up cinnamon rolls and donuts from the Bluebird Ranch Family Restaurant, which closed its doors late Sunday after 25 years of serving the Machias area.

It’s a momentous change for the community and, I’m quite certain, for everyone who works there. You can find my personal remembrances in last week’s Postcard from Washington County here.

Farewell to the Bluebird Ranch Family Restaurant, which closed its doors Sunday, Oct. 1, after 25 years in Machias. In January, Mason’s Brewery will open its new Machias location. Photo courtesy Bluebird Ranch Family Restaurant

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