I took a quick picture after I stuck our bakery business card in the middle of this bulletin board in a coffee shop in Bar Harbor, Maine. I ran across it today and marveled at the diverse people and businesses. See if you can spot them all.
A “horror artist”
Professional cellist
Old-time fiddle lessons
“The Broth Alchemist”
A “death midwife”
Flight instruction
Body piercer
Level 3 Reiki master practitioner
Chiropractor
A wellness lounge
Tattoo artist
DJ
Chainsaw art
Watercolor artist
Life coach
Masonry contractor
Golf professional
Various writers
Peer support specialist
Custom cookie bakery (lol)
Graphic arts
I really want to contact some of these people and request, “Tell me about your business and your trip to Maine.”
We just got home from a trip to Bangor, Maine where our Airbnb was half of a double house built in 1874 by Captain George Poole but designed by George W. Orff.
I tried to research the history of the house, but there’s little online. It’s a blend of Gothic revival and Italianate architecture from the late 19th century. It no longer has a slate roof, but the granite foundation remains. I believe many of the wood floors are original.
The right-hand side of the house is divided into two long-term rentals. The left side, where we stayed, is an Airbnb.
When we arrived, we discovered that the house keeps going and going. From a front sitting-room, you walk through to a living area, then into a dining room, back into a galley kitchen, and even further to a laundry/bathroom. It reminded me of a Baltimore row home where we lived for a year (a long, long time ago).
A long staircase just inside the front door takes you up to two large bedrooms, a bathroom, and a drawing room. (The empty back bedroom had a drawing pad on an easel!) I suspect that a locked door led to a full attic or perhaps a third floor.
The fireplaces that ran up the center of the house between the front rooms and the bedrooms had been sealed off.
I did explore the spooky basement, which was only about 6 foot high. The furnace was new, as was the shiny copper maze of plumbing that supplied hot water to all the modern looking radiators in each room. I can’t even imagine what all that new plumbing cost.
I was impressed by how quiet the house was. Three-quarters of a mile up the hill from downtown Bangor, there was little traffic. As I sat looking out the front window early in the morning, I enjoyed the silence.
I only heard from the adjoining neighbors one morning when they chased off a homeless person off the property with some vivid language. Other than than, I never heard a peep from them.
Waite for it... 