The above is a photo of my cabin in Franklin County.

In coming blogs there will be more photos from this charming and almost undiscovered part of Maine.

The Sandy River in Franklin County is among the most erosion-prone rivers in the state. As a result, Your Scribe is facing two major events at river's edge.

The depressing development is that a huge spruce street is about to pitch into the river.

The roots are pulling away from the porous earth. Indeed, there is about a three foot widening between the "bank" and the bulb of the tree that is going in with the 50 feet of trunk and branches. It will be submerged within a month.

Naive, I wondered if the state has a program where a forester will come down and remove the tree from the river. But Gary the Energetic Logger says the opposite is true: The state won't touch it and they won't let you either.

"Nature taking it's course, is the way they see it," Gary said.

I lose at least a dozen fish hooks per weekend from snags. I will be doomed when the tree takes its fall.

But being a giddy optimist, I see a positive event about 100 feet to the east. A sandy bank that stands about 15 feet above the river is about to cascade into the water also.

I don't know why. But when it does, it will offer a launching point for the canoe. Right now, we have to lower the 17-foot craft almost vertically, and hope for the best.

Old-timers in Franklin County have many tales about how the river has changed course over the years. And each year we go canoeing, we see major trunks in the water after their roots could no longer keep hold of the bank. So now it's happening to the riverfront of Your Scribe.

(An aside: This isn't really on point, but one of the largest projects of the U.S. Corps of Engineers is keeping the Mississippi River from changing course. It wants to head straight south from Arkansas, and flood the swamplands of western Louisiana. But that would mean it would bypass New Orleans, putting an end to an already ailing city. It could also create havoc for the oil and gas rigs in the Gulf. So hundreds of millions have been spent keeping the Mississippi in line. I wonder if any of that money goes toward a program to fetch fallen trees that threaten local fishing waters).

So that's it. Your Scribe stands to be 1 and 1 when it comes to vying with the small but mighty Sandy River.

I'd much rather be 0 and 0, and enjoy the river bank the way it was.

Your Scribe got an offer over the weekend to sell an acre of land.

Since the offer from Terry the Motivated Renter was higher than I had expected, I plan to pursue the transaction.

Terry must vacate his rental up the (dirt) road. Somewhat of a hermit (though his large, rambunctious dog certainly isn't), Terry doesn't want to leave the area. He has offered to buy about an acre upon which he plans to plop a doublewide.

Pearl Buck, the great American author and oft-China resident, would disapprove. In her books (including "The Good Earth"), she stated repeatedly that the land has lasting value, and it should not be sold or traded.

(An aside: She might have been right but with marauding Asiatic warlords looting the countryside in the tumultuous times she wrote about, what good would loose currency have been anyway?)

So, Pearl, here is my thinking:

- I would be doing a good turn for a neighbor who really wants to stay rooted on our road.

- Terry would be below me on the road, and thus he would pay the cost of bringing electricity down the street. I do not have power, and I am thinking it would be nice. Hooking into an existing line in front of my driveway is a lot cheaper than getting CMP to run the whole line down to your cabin.

- Because my street is a public, tax-supported thoroughfare, the road commissioner would have to improve it so Terry (a taxpayer) can get his car in and out. Each spring it gets washed out, then misshapen by ATVs, lumber trucks and teens looking for a place to neck (An aside: Not much gets done, because of the squadrons of mosquitoes and black flies that patrol the few open spaces where one can park). So the road would be improved, and that would help everyone.

- The town would have to plow down to Terry's, which means I could get into my driveway in the winter.

But back to Pearl . . .

Money is not as important as land. On this I agree with novelist Buck.

But I would be selling just one acre of 18 that I own. And Terry has agreed to place his trailer in a section that is not visible from my "wilderness retreat."

Maybe Pearl Buck would say no.

But Your Scribe says Yes, bring forth that purchase and sales agreement.

This weekend Your Scribe will be involved in what might be called a fashionably green weekend: I will be addressing concerns of green dollars and green trees.

No. 1 - I need some trees cut down. They threaten the cabin. Several fell this spring that could have ruined the structure.

Bob the Reluctant Woodsman has not risen to the task. Despite the fact that we had a contract since last July, he has yet to bring down a single branch.

So I am turning to Gary, the Energetic Logger. Gary did some work in the woods near my place, and razed every tree that ever hosted as much as a raindrop or a chickadee. I know he will do something. But we have to agree on how much.

No. 2 - Terry the Renter recently approached with an "offer" to buy a couple acres of my land. The people who own the place he rents up our little dirt road have sold, and Terry must leave. But he doesn't want to desert the "neighborhood."

I must remember several things while talking with Terry.

Forget the prices of Down East magazine. You read that ritzy monthly, and you feel like you can sell your mailbox for six figures. But most of the land they advertise is on the Coast, and prices are far lower in Franklin County.

Also, I will check with Town Hall to see if they have records of recent comparable sales. I should go to the Franklin County Courthouse but it is not open on Saturdays.

Plus, many wizened land traders will tell you that a piece of land is worth what you can get for it.

No. 3 - I am also hoping to talk to a tree specialist from the state.

A huge spruce along the river is about to fall into the inscrutable Sandy. I am wondering if there is a service to take down the tree before it becomes a menace in the river.

Or that failing, how do you go about removing it once it is submerged? There must be some program, for erosion-prone rivers like the Sandy have trees topple all the time. If they were never removed, there wouldn't be much canoeing going on.

It sounds like a weekend for asking questions and trading information.

Your Scribe recently sat along the Mississippi River, in Memphis.

Here are some observations of this river, which is quite different than the ones I know best in Maine: the Sandy River, the Kennebec River and the Saco River.

- Large barges are a way of life on the Mississippi. Huge craft come down regularly, with loads that include gravel, stone, wheat, corn, and other materials. (An aside: Maine rivers in the mid-19th century were very busy, with log drives sending valuable wood to ship-building companies along the coast. Bangor reportedly was one of the busiest inland ports in the country when during its heyday of producing long, straight timber).

- There were water-skiers on the Mississippi. I had always read that this was a dangerous sport on the Old Muddy. The river is filled with branches and logs. In addition, there are strong whirlpools and eddies that would threaten a thrown skier. But there it was: a boatload of hedonistic skiers.

- Actress Cybil Shepherd lives in a condo overlooking the Mississippi. Though she also has a home in Hollywood, the star grew up in Memphis and maintains a residence. She even goes to her high-school reunions. Her first movie that I recall was "The Last Picture Show."

- The riverwalk in Memphis this weekend hosted a huge barbeque contest with more than 200 teams competing for awards. It's a fun event, as some of the team names suggest: "The Hog Father," "Sassy Sows," "Pig Nation," and "Pigs in Paradise."
(Aside No. 1- My nomination for a team name would have been "Sweet Hog of Youth.") (Aside No. 2 - It was frustrating that the booths didn't sell samples to the thousands of visitors. They saved it for the judges. So one would walk by these well-decorated stands, but there was nothing to buy. It would be like going to a wine-tasting event, but only being permitted to look at the labels. Your Scribe did get a pulled-pork sandwich at Corky's, a commerical venue, and he was very happy he did.)

- Looking across the Mississippi on a sunny day, one wonders if Maine rivers have as many stories to tell. Author Kenneth Roberts was our Mark Twain but I don't remember as many famous tales. "Arundel," with Stephen Nason and Cap Huff, yes. But I don't know of a Huck Finn of the Penobscot. I vow to check the libraries when I return to the Pine Tree State. (An aside: Mark Twain wrote most of his famous books in Hartford, Conn., quite removed from the river that made him famous. That's where the publishing business was centered in his day). Perhaps Neil Rolde, the well-known Maine historian, has written some texts that I am not familiar with. I will check.

A few thoughts, as I look forward to good weather this summer:

- Where is my copy of "The Maine Sportsman." I sent the check for a subscription in early April, and it cleared April 10. So why does it take so long to process an order? No wonder newspapers are struggling - and that Augusta-based paper is a monthly.They couldn't be that busy!

- What a generous article about Biddeford in the recent "Down East" magazine. About 99 percent of the article was praise about the city's amazing comeback. About once sentence touched on the fact some looney-tunes politicians permitted a sewage-processing plant to be built in the middle of the city more than a decade ago, and they can't get rid of it now. (An aside: I can opine on Biddeford. I lived in that York County city for four years. I was there the night back in the '70s when the city council "claimed" by eminent domain a good part of private beach. A compromise was reached years later, but politics in that mill city tend to be bizarre.)

- I haven't seen my osprey this year. In the past few years, we've seen an osprey soaring over the Sandy River. No sightings yet. The brown and white wide-winged bird just about disappeared here in the '50s due to DDT poisening, but supposedly is on a comeback. I hope my Sandy River osprey comes back this summer.

- I vow to visit Montpelier, in Thomaston, this summer. It was the home of Henry Knox, Revolutionary War general and prominent politicians who apparently tried to copy Thomas Jefferson with a huge mansion on a hill. Like Jefferson, he couldn't pay for it. But the facsimile, very visible on Route 1, is something I must tour. I thought I'd hate Jefferson's Monticello but it was very interesting.

- I also want to visit the Nordica Homestead near Farmington. It was developed in honor of Lillian Norton, who grew up to be a world-class opera singer. She changed her name to Nordica to reflect her northern roots, and eventually settled back home. (An aside: It might not sound exciting, but what are YOUR plans for a rainy day in Franklin County.)

- Your Scribe is (still) mulling an offer to sell two acres of his land at the camp. I own 18 acres. The proposed purchase would not cost me any water frontage. And my little "Walton's Mountain" is seeing much change anyway. I don't mean that a subdivision is planned on our sketchy dirt road, but four houses have gone up in the last three years. The Big Variable: How much does my suitor want to pay for two acres?

This past weekend was a great one, starting with the warm, sunny weather and then involving some good fortune.

As one who does his share of grousing when things go wrong, I will list the totally cool events that took place:

- A stranger cut up a tree that had fallen across the driveway. Several weeks ago I met a rifle-toting woodchuck hunter. We talked. We lamented the fact a large tree had fallen across the driveway. He said, "I'll cut it up for me." I kept a straight face. But arriving Friday afternoon, my heart soared as I noticed it was was cut up in firewood size pieces. I have his number and plan to pay him. But that was a great start to the weekend.

- My perennials survived the winter. All the bushes and even the bulbs made it through. I mention that my fast-growing all-star vine - aka bittersweet - is also back for a new season. Real gardeners decry this as a despicable weed but I like it because it grows.

- My ratio of fish caught to hooks lost was in positive territory. This is rare. On Friday, I caught five yellow perch, and lost only one hook. On Saturday I lost three hooks and caught no fish. But you do the numbers. I am ahead of the game.

- The Canadian night crawlers I used were pretty effective. The local Farm Store changed owners over the winter, and the new impresarios evidently selected a different vendor for the worms concession. (An aside: I don't know if it was put out for bid, or if guarantees were part of the package). But I caught some fish with the north-of-the-border interlopers, so I like the change.

- My son, Drew, on leave from the Jesuit Relief Services in Tanzania, Africa, planted corn and pumpkins. He was a great help in the garden, and it was fun having him. Last year he planted in July, but it was too late to produce vegetables. Planting in the sunshine of mid-May should do the trick.

- The Old Town canoe purchased in 1992 is still doing great. So are the paddles and life preservers obtained that year. We took a canoe ride about 5 p.m. Saturday, and it was truly picturesque to see the sun slanting across the bubbling Sandy River. Of course, two mammoth trees on my property are about to fall into the river due to erosion. Does anyone know . . . does the state have a service to rid rivers of such obstructions?

- And here was a thought-provoking way to close out a weekend: A renter being displaced up the street says he wants to buy two acres from me so he can put up a doublewide and continue to live in New Sharon. He didn't mention a price. Any ideas on how much an acre goes for? (An aside: I know there are a hundred variables. But I would appreciate any amount of educated speculation. The acreage is on a public dirt road, electricity is available and he would be about 100 yards from public access to the river, though his parcel would not border the river).

I doubt if I will sell it, though. I am enjoying it too much to turn the camp into a "business proposition."

One of the great "cabins" in our region is the old summer retreat of Franklin D. Roosevelt in Campobello.

It's worth a trip this summer, especially if you or an older relative have awareness of the late president. (Or if you would like to contemplate a leader who could actually run a country and manage a war).

Campobello is on the oceanside border of Canada, just past Lubec.

Though Acadia is one of the country's most visited national parks, likely 95 percent of those tourists don't go beyond the Bar Harbor area. Of course, close to 95 percent of Mainers haven't been to Campobello either.

(An aside: That 95 percent of locals might be a little high).

Anyway, the Roosevelt summer home has been well preserved by a U.S.-Canada commission.

The residence is just like it was 100 years ago, with furniture, utilities and decor the same as it was a century or so ago. Even the newspapers and magazines lying about on the coffee table are from that era.

Roosevelt served from 1933-1945 but he rarely visited as president.

His halcyon days were the turn of the century (he was born about 1883), and the residence and grounds represent that period.

The era conjures up some life-style elements no longer pervasive today: traveling long distances by train, enjoying vacations of two or three months, employing enough help to take care of all the extended family and guests that came along.

Roosevelt sailed, fished, and played tennis and lawn games during the day. At night, the young people read, played bridge or perhaps snuck into nearby Eastport for a big night.

Roosevelt didn't lose the use of his lower body until he was a young man, and the pictures of him romping around the property with family and friends capture a vital and handsome adventurer bursting with energy.

This was before TV, Internet and presumably, misuse of drugs and alcohol. The photos suggest a big happy family enjoying the summer on one of the most scenic and tranquil locales on the Maine coast. (An aside: What else would a federal commission with two PR staffs portray)?

FDR's "cabin" (and grounds) is a memorable historic attraction that also offers many miles of oceanside driving. This is a case where the trip getting there can be as entertaining as the destination itself.

A new text has entered my favorite book list: It is "Maine Sporting Camps" by Alice Arlen (Countryman Press, Vermont, 1984).

It now stands behind "Arundel" and "Quiet Presence: Stories of Franco-Americans in New England" as my most revered treatments of sectors of Maine life and/or history.

I like the book because I am intrigued by sporting camps: Is there a future? A present?

I am not being sarcastic. I don't know.

There are 44 million "visits" to Maine each year, according to the state tourist bureau.

High-end motels on the coast do pretty well; do-it-yourself campgrounds are thriving, from what I can tell.

But do many vacationers chose "camps."

My family visited two camps mentioned in the book, both in the Belgrade Lakes area: Alden Camps and Castle Island Camps.

Castle Island had cabins so close to the road that some would-be sleepers got nervous.

I liked Alden Camps alot but when my (infirm) father visited, he had a difficult time walking up the hills to dinner.

The other theme Your Scribe is contemplating here is that more jobs have to be created upcountry, and it would be nice if tourism were part of it and camps remained part of that.

Two state industries are doing poorly: commercial fishing is just about gone, and the woodsmen I see around my cabin say the logging business is weakening rapidly.

Think of Waterville-Winslow, where I did time. The Scott Paper plant employed thousands two decades ago, and now it has but a few dozen workers to make sure the place doesn't burn down.

In terms of vacation activity, my fantasy is to take a plane ride over the wilderness areas of the state. Maine is more than 80 percent forest, and it must be thrilling to soar over the lakes and mountains with all the wildlife and beauty below.

But neither tourists nor natives generally want to spend that kind of money to see the remote sectors of the state.

Hopefully they will choose easy-to-reach Maine sporting camps, and keep the lengthy tradition active.

(Note: A reader of the last blog on the harvest of wildlife asked about the value of coyote pelts. I am putting my research department to work to get him an answer. But if anyone knows, please respond).