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Great Cove, again.

Good morning everyone. We sit quietly at anchor here at Great Cove in Blue Hill Bay. There is not a breathe of air stirring and the fog that crept in overnight is dripping from the rig onto the awning. Wait a minute here folks. Didn't he write that yesterday? Yes, I did. Place names here on the Maine are so good that they get used again and again.

For every bay there is at least two or three islands or ledges that share the same name as an island or ledge in the next bay over. We picnicked on Hog Island just 7 miles from another Hog Island. Hog Island is just across from White Island of which I know of one other down by Boothbay. Not far away was Mark Island. Goodness knows you can't have a bay without some kind of "mark" in it. And around the corner was Eagle Island, Blue Hill Bay, not to be confused with Eagle Island in Penobscot Bay, or Eagle Island in Casco Bay. Egg Rocks? Lots of them. "Seal" something or others? Too many to count. And on it goes. Recycling was invented in Maine not because it was a socially wonderful thing to do but because folks were so busy trying to survive that they did not have time to go guessing at what names were already taken.

The place names around here have filled numerous pages in many books. And I can't even begin to touch on the corruption of French or Native place names. I am guessing there is only one Burnt Coat Harbor in the world. But I will hazard to offer that place names tell us about the universal consciousness of the times. What could have been more important than a safe place to keep livestock, gather eggs, or find a safe harbor? Some things never change. What would we name these islands today if we were to find them anew?

Have a great day. Be well. Do Good.

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