Dear Reader,

The sun came up Saturday and didn't have to peek through rain nor fog to reach this corner of the world some call "God's Pocket." Soon after, a chorus of lawnmowers began to buzz as a black sedan, sporting New York license plates, stopped in the middle of Townsend Avenue while the driver thought about turning down the hill. After noon, a minivan, this one from Vermont, drove most of the way down the River Road with its left turn signal flashing, as the driver ogled the scenery.

High school graduates put away their flat hats and flowing gowns and went to parties where their parent's friends asked them what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. The best answer is: "I don't know," for you don't. Meanwhile, teachers are collecting computers, finishing classroom work and wondering whether they can squeeze in another education course this summer.

There was a primary election Tuesday. I don't care who won. I am just glad the robo-calls and phony surveys designed to solicit your vote for this or that Republican senate candidate have stopped.

In a recent debate between the platoon of GOP hopefuls, candidates seemed to focus on how they would defeat Independent candidate Angus King. The only Democrat they mentioned at all was President Barack Obama. As the nation's budget wallows in red ink, you would think they would offer some positive solutions, yet we hear more of the same old rhetoric of past years.

Here in our town, where my rain gauge showed some 9 inches of rain last weekend, our wonderful volunteer firefighters did themselves proud when they pumped out the flooded basements of their neighbors whose sump pumps were outclassed. Good for them.

Nurseries are in full swing as clerks stuff SUVs full of colorful plants with unpronounceable Latin names, tucking them in along with bags of dirt guaranteed to grow a garden display that would turn Mike Hall's funeral parlor green with envy.

On the water, fishermen are putting the finishing touches on their gear, painting their boats and making the annual pilgrimage down to the docks with traps piled high on the beds of their pickup trucks. Soon our coastal waters will be once again dotted with colorful pot buoys.

Inn keepers are dusting off their carpets, making the beds up with fresh sheets and opening their doors. Wonderful smells are sneaking out of kitchens that have been shuttered for months. Up and down Route 1, gas prices have come down drastically and folks are lining up to top off their tanks at $3.50 a gallon. Did you ever think you would line up to purchase gasoline, thinking $3.50 a gallon was a bargain?

Are these signs we will have a productive tourist season? There is always hope.

Like a black bear crawling out of its winter digs, Boothbay is waking from its annual winter nap. Here at the Boothbay Register we have finished work on our supplement for Windjammer Days and our friends at the Wiscasset Newspaper are preparing for another summer of watching a major U.S. highway turn into a parking lot. In both shops, editors and reporters are anticipating the unveiling of a new website as we move into the iPhone/iPad era.

Best of all native strawberries are starting to trickle in and the season's first shortcake has been served at our house.

Saturday seemed like the first day of summer and it can't come too soon.

"Summer is a-coming in, loudly sing cuckoo. Groweth seed and bloweth mead, and spring'th the wood a-new. Sing cuckoo, sing cuckoo. Merry sing cuckoo." This verse comes from a lovely English refrain uttered and sung since the 13th century.

Joe Gelarden