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“your days of plenty are numberd”

We went to Gardiner this weekend, to visit my family. Gardiner is technically a city, so I can say it has a downtown… even though “downtown” is really only a few blocks.

There is a new boardwalk there now, which we went for fairly short walk on, because some people thought is was too chilly to stay very long. I snapped a few pics.

As long as I can remember, they’ve had a thing about marking how high the flood waters reach in the spring. My grandmother remembers (and has a few photos of ice chunks stranded on the road from) the Flood of ‘36, which was about the twenty six foot mark on this pole. (The big flood when I was in high school was about twenty five feet.) That means the water rises high enough to reach the main street, Water Street, which I suppose gets less funny for folks without good insurance. That means the grocery story — the only one in town — floods too.

My Dad actually lives in the town of West Gardiner. There’s a South Gardiner, too. Now that might make the unsuspecting believe Gardiner is big, but it isn’t. It’s just bigger than some of the towns around it — so Gardiner is the one with the high school in it, and the public library, but the stoplights still start blinking around 9:00pm. Gardiner might have deer in the woods (okay, does have deer in the woods) but West Gardiner has wild turkeys roaming around in people’s yards. We saw some this morning, and they weren’t happy because the owner’s of the yard they were in let the dog out, and they couldn’t cross the road because this dog was sitting there, waiting for them.

It’s weird, the place both looks so familiar and at the same time, so strange. There are new things, like the boardwalk, but really the town hasn’t changed all that much. I had to laugh when I spotted this graffiti. It’s ironic not just because Gardiner is far from a well-to-do little town, but because the building behind the graffiti is the public library. I know they know how to spell numbered there.

I know exactly what you mean. Growing up in a small town it seems like nothing ever changes, the next door neighbors are still older than dirt and to them you are always 8 years old. I’m definitely happy I “got out” of my small town, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy stepping back in time every once and a while.