Author Archive

Midsummer Night’s Dream opens Thursday

By Meg Collinson • Jan 11th, 2009 • Category: Arts, Features

First of all, this review will hardly convey the grit of the real thing: Elizabethan comedy, an ancient, incredible play, Midsummer Night’s Dream. If love should ever be mixed up, you can find it on stage here, in Farmington, Maine. Only, on stage, it’s not winter any longer when you enter the theater. Depicting midsummer [...]



Poet’s Choice: The Passing

By Meg Collinson • Nov 3rd, 2008 • Category: Arts

The Passing
Fly, my night bird, [...]



From the U.K. to Maine: Geese walking

By Meg Collinson • Oct 13th, 2008 • Category: News

We walked the north Norfolk marshes and paths along the seacoast, watching birds, and remembering the ones we used to know some years ago when my husband and I lived over here with our first child. The birds are similiar but not quite - especially the sea birds which I am not so familiar [...]



From the U.K. to Maine: Journey’s End

By Meg Collinson • Oct 6th, 2008 • Category: Features, News

As I walk the footpaths of the village and sea cliffs, here in Ringmore, South Devon, sheep, cattle, ravens, gulls and buzzards claim their part of the scenery and hills. In the winds and rain, one ponders life, much as one does on any walk apart from the world; and it happened that my husband [...]



From the U.K. to Maine: Of Cob homes and thatched roofs

By Meg Collinson • Oct 2nd, 2008 • Category: Features, News

In this small village of Ringmore where we are visiting family, I’ve become interested in old methods of building houses. I grew up in Pennsylvania in a large stone home with two-foot-thick walls. Here, I find the same, only differently constructed.
First of all, the village itself is quite near the sea, but hidden from it. [...]



The green view from South Devon, U.K. to Maine

By Meg Collinson • Sep 29th, 2008 • Category: Features, News

SOUTH DEVON, U.K. - On a bi-annual visit to both our families - my brother and my husband’s tribe - we step out of forested Maine into soft, green hills which meet the sea. On misted days, one cannot necessarily make out exactly where land and water define themselves. What is always noted [...]