The lead in question on every Facebook social log in page is “how are you feeling, doing?”

Providing an open invitation space, place. To check in. Hunt and peck fill out to tell the world how your life is currently unfolding, right here and now. This very second. To start the conversation. Cause engagement. Establish an online connection.

Maybe what you post to update family, friends, neighbors. Joyful, maybe tearful.

Or you’re so bored. All to save the need for a phone call check in. Avoid letter writing. Quick and easy. Short and sweet up to date. Yours, mine, our feelings are the end all to share. Being personally happy seems to be the most important digital dream. But for some reason the most stubborn, elusive of the feelings bundle today.

While there’s a 180 degree shift from “it’s all about making others happy” golden rule to follow. Providing whatever you can to cheer and console was the default. When you are lucky enough to have a little more. Blessed and grateful for your plight in life. Because it’s just a whisker rosier, brighter than the next person you stumble, bump into, placed in your path.

In Maine, it’s making the most of what you have. It’s being content that you have any thing at all. And doing everything in your power while still walking above ground, drawing a breath. To make it better than it was. Not lamenting, whining, complaining because this, this and oh yeah, that is missing.

And not telling yourself you would be happy if you had something you don’t.

Or looking way back. Rear view mirror mortgaging your happiness today with something in life’s past. That did not end up the way you had hoped, dreamed. But if you could only go back and change a few events, avoid a couple turns it would be so different now. Living life today does not work that way. Let go or get dragged rehashing the past sharp edged mistakes lurking, looping in those head tapes.

Accept the lessons learned.

Happily ever after long term is now off autopilot. Diverted to some brand new series of shorter, unchartered airport touch and goes. Sit back, enjoy the inflight movie. Sure, you can come up to first class. It’s your life flight. But through the static, someone just radioed in a new flight plan. A different course. Buckle up. No smoking. Stay in your seet. You better adapt to, hunker down and from quietly on your knees learn why if you don’t already know. And as Winston Churchill reminded, “if you are going through hell, keep going.

Someone not from Maine but the land of opulent, elegant living has lots of crutches where money does seemingly grow on trees, is no object.

Gets more and more dependent on the stacks of dead Presidents. Or whipping out the plastic. The day to day is pretty much store bought. That temporary, happy feeling is sought, created from outside you and the vast wordly treasures amassed, collected, stockpiled that surround for show and tell.

Maine is lasting, home made baked from the inside out. Our simple lifestyle defines a resilient person. Not your check book balance. Not your fleeting, hit or miss available credit limit use to impress or build envy in others. Winter Maine farm country living here means trudging down to the Maine farm house root cellar.

For a handful out gems out of the locally grown, winter stored Maine potato barrel collection. To go with the carrots hoisted up, shook off, pulled out of the sand. To compliment the cabbage in the slice and diced coleslaw salad. Snatching a jar of bread and butter pickles, stewed tomatoes off the shelf on the way back to the kitchen. Canned, stacked, stored a few months back.

Lifting the lid of the large chest deep freeze. Tonight pawing through, selecting a white wrapped package courtesy of Sirloin the beef steer. Who had a great spring, summer, fall on the back forty. Made it to the processor alive. But came home wearing magic marker identifier scribbling. In uniform, individual pieces. Sized to exactly match, feed, fill the number of plates around the Maine farm kitchen table each night.

After school Maine farm kids have chores.

Are not in front of a television. Scrape and paint buildings. Plant, cultivate, harvest crops. Help Dad, learning how to weld, braze, work with tools to repair broken equipment. Two kids alternate filling the wood box. Keeping ambers glowing brightly.To warm up to for a winter fire in the kitchen antique cook stove off the pantry.

Others youngsters watering, graining, haying and cleaning out the animal stalls in the Maine farm barn. Checking off the mental list box afterwards. Remembering to reach underneath the hens before heading in for supper. To see what the “bawk bawk bawk” bunch created to crack open. To play a big part in Maine farm fresh breakfast tomorrow.

Warm mittens lovingly created with with a pearl one, knit two efficiency in your favorite color. As your mom looks up, smiles, listens. Adds to the conversation from her rocker with the skein string slowly feeding the age old hand made process. As she second nature attaches the thumbs. Then another wool model makes it to the end of the assembly line. Ready to be put into winter hand protection.(To be continued….)

Too busy running the roads for kid’s extrecurricular activities and out of breath hurry hurry, faster faster is not healthy. Not the way things get done on the Maine farm. Ever thought about owning one? Let’s talk. Soon.

Maine. She’s outdoors. Playing, working, learning from the four season natural beauty. No one wants to come in unless they’re bleeding, it’s time to eat or bedtime.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com