As the sun set in the west at the end of the past weekend, I still did not have the beginnings of a well.

This photo is from Cape Cod Hill Road, New Sharon, Franklin County, and right up the hill from my (dry) camp.

Kevin the Well Digger was supposed to have started the well by clearing brush, and knocking down some trees. He didn't. He said it was too hot.

But he said he would start this week. I, a giddy optimist, believe he will.

Except I am getting concerned that this is the third craftsman with whom I have had an agreement to cut wood and/or brush and still nothing has happened.

But I am determined to have fresh water nearby, so I will give it time.

A recent national report stated that Maine is 48th out of the 50 states in terms of offering a "positive" business climate. It indicated the state has numerous regulations and comparatively few tax incentives. It adds a mininum of new jobs each year.

The fact that Maine placed near the bottom by estimates of economists and Chamber of Commerce correspondents is not surprising. Maine has been on the statistical floor for a long time.

But Your Scribe thinks the state is doing better than the stats indicate. Or at least the people are.

I took a long ride recently, in what might be called the Amateur Economist's Blue Highways Tour. "Blue Highways" was the term that author William Least Moon dubbed his auto visit of several rural states, not over the interstate system but the routes noted in blue on maps that go through "regular" towns.

Or, in my parlance, through Cabin Country.

I toured from Farmington to Bethel on Route 2, and south along Routes 35 and 114. I did not see a broken economy. I observed many vibrant small businesses - which would never appear on the radar of a 9-to-5 economist.

I saw several paintball courses - which charge admission. I observed scores of stands selling rasberries, blackberries, strawberries and blueberries. There were merchants selling hot dogs along the road, and sellers of cheap portraits of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe. There was a roadside stand hawking motorcycle helmets. And many, many antique stores.

In Rumford, a guy in a battered black pickup was selling moose horns. It's true! He had about 20 racks laid out on the pavement for all motorists to be tempted by.

Such small businesses complement two "real" industries that are booming in the countryside: construction and tourism. Say what you will, but the world still wants Maine. There are scores of waterfront communities being built, and hundreds of individual homes.

My individual barometer for small-time prosperity: new churches. Almost every thoroughfare in central Maine has a new grass-roots church either being built or just opened. That doesn't happen in communities where people have no financial means.

The Pine Tree State has some industries that others can't match. There is Days Bear Bait in Alfred, which offers 55-gallon drums of donuts and granola. And it markets a 5-gallon drum of molasses, which reportedly will attract bears for miles.

And a Bangor company sells small septic systems for camps, about which owners jokingly boast, "This could be the biggest advance in camp bathrooms since the double-decker outhouse."

These aren't the jobs that excite economists. But Maine has a better upcountry economy than some think.

Of course, it would be great to be back in the days of then-Gov. Angus King, who declared Maine could have great jobs because the electronic economy could thrive anywhere.

And we did. MBNA was just one corporation that arrived, bringing terrific jobs to Belfast, Rockland, Camden, Farmington and other communities. But the international economy cut both ways. When Bank of America took over MBNA, many of these jobs were erased within a year.

One element that this national study did not emphasize was liveability. Not just peaceful towns and good schools but the chance to buy a home.

New York and San Francisco, North Carolina and Arizona, add high-paying jobs at a rate that turns the heads of numbers crunchers.

But can you buy a house in Manhattan? Can you rent even a 1,000-foot apartment in the City by the Bay?

Not likely.

We may be No. 48. But it's a ranking many folks can live with.

Your Scribe was in negotiations over the weekend with Kevin the Well Digger, discussing the creation of a well about 100 feet from the cabin.

I think I am a good negotiator who interacts well with craftsmen.

The problem is, the deal generally doesn't get done.

I had agreements with both Bob the Reluctant Woodsman and Gary the Energetic Logger to fell and sell some trees, but neither has as much as bent a sapling.

So I hope this works.

I like Kevin the Well Digger and think we have a good plan.

This week he will clear some trees. Then (if he actually does that) he will bring machinery in, and start digging for water. If no water, he won't buy the rock and tiles that make for a surface well.

Several things: He does not guarantee water. "I dig holes but I don't guarantee wells," he says. But Kevin says he has had good luck on my road.

Also, it will cost about $3,000. This might not be much for those who would settle at a Plum Creek mountmansion at Moosehead, but it is a lot for your impecunious Scribe.

Still, I need water. If there were a fire, it would be essential. Plus, if the local farm store one day says that we can't fill up our five gallon containers any longer, my operation at the cabin would come to an abrupt halt.

So Kevin the Well Digger and I shook on it. By next week there should be a clearing that will be called, The Future Site of the Well.

I am looking forward to it. And I hope my luck changes as far as having someone actually do the work.

(An aside: Another sweet-sounding deal of mine has been finalized with a neighbor getting the benefit. Terry the Ambitious Renter was going to pay me $10,000 for one acre so he wouldn't have to leave our little enclave when his landlords sell the property that includes his apartment. I felt great, a Donald Trump in Deet. Then he withdrew, saying he'd have to pay too much to bring the electricity down the road. This week I find out he has bought land from a neighbor, closer to the source of electricity. I congratulated him on his purchase - but was secretly crankified I missed out on the 10 Large. I could have built three wells with that!)

It goes without saying that it’s difficult to make a good living in rural Maine. So I have to take off my Scribe’s hat to Janet Imelda Kennedy. She runs Imelda’s, a yarn and crafts store in New Sharon (Franklin County), and recently expanded to three floors in the weathered, riverside building.

Your Scribe initially wasn’t sure that owning a crafts store was adequately “robust” to qualify for mention in Cabin Country.

But then I reflected on how many women in Maine pursue crafts, especially knitting and weaving. I remembered my stop at the yarn, cotton and wool stalls at the Common Ground Fair, where the lines were long and the affections strong for manual creativity.

Or, where the winters are lengthy, interest in sedentary crafts is generally quite high.

A few things about Imelda's, which is located on the corner of Route 2 and Route 134: She took over a squash and tennis racquet manufacturing plant, which closed in the early ‘90s.

As a tennis player (and one old enough to have played with wood rackets), I went over to New Sharon on the day it closed. Modern players had turned to metal rackets, first in tennis and then in squash.

As I watched the elderly owner observe the final sale from across the street, I really did have the feeling that it was the end of an era. He had hung on, and was perhaps the last private maker of wood squash racquets in the country.

Then the building closed. Like most commercial edifices in New Sharon, it stayed empty for years. (An aside: Rural communities in Maine were much more vibrant a century ago, before the auto could take people out of town for shopping. Many former stores in New Sharon are apartments or they are empty.)

But Imelda’s opened three years ago, and appears to be thriving. She recently planted about two dozen marigolds around the building, so I figure she has to have some extra cash. (“You have to do something to get the cars to slow down, and notice the building,” she said).

Interesting note: She discovered about a dozen unfinished squash racquets, which she attached to a vertical pole. She displays hats on them now, and if you know the history of the building, it is a fine touch.

Imelda’s offers yarns, wools, polar fleece, and alpaca for the craftsperson. She also sells hats, vests, socks and many more things with which I am not conversant.

If the business crowd every wants to do a case study on creating commerce in rural Maine, they might consider consulting with those at Imelda’s. To turn an empty racqets factory into a thriving crafts center is one remarkable achievement.

There are numerous studies by state agencies and private organizations addressing whether the state's fishing and hunting "inventories" are going up or down.

To wit, are we doing the right thing in managing the deer, moose and fish that sportsmen like to pursue?

One organization that is bullish on the future is L.L. Bean, which is adding a fishing and hunting building in Freeport as seen in photo here.

Bean has many things going for it, of course.

Its brand is internationally known. The quality of its products is supreme.

And when families go shopping, even the men get into the act. Rare is the male who doesn't wander into the sportsmen's shop when the women are buying clothes, furniture or personal items.

And the folks at Bean are remarkably successful. Their net sales were up in 2006 by 4.6 percent, for a total of $1.54 billion.

The bonus to employees was $25.5 million, according to Bean statistics.

Does fishing and hunting have a future in Maine? Managers at L.L. Bean certainly think so.

Your Scribe has not given his cabin an official name, but I am considering Bittersweet.

Bittersweet, the vine, is currently the most prominent visual aspect of the property.

I planted the fast-growing "flower" knowing that it would rise quickly. It has. As you can see in this photo, it is making itself known on the front porch.

Many homeowners curse bittersweet. They say it will "take over" the garden, or corrupt the outside of the house. All of which implies that bittersweet has the power to compromise the life experience.

But I am letting it grow. Because it grows.

Right now the corn isn't growing. The pumpkins aren't growing. Even my New Guineau impatiens are battling extinction. So I am keeping my bittersweet.

I am cranky about other weeds growing around the cabin. I know I should weed, but I do not feel like doing so during the few days a week I am there.

I would rather be at the river, swimming or canoeing. Or driving through my sector of cabin country, seeing new country roads and picturesque cabins.

My cabin is hardly the like of Tara, in "Gone with the Wind," or Monticello, the spacious (if unpaid for) retreat of Thomas Jefferson.

Still, we can dream.

So I am thinking of my own beloved retreat in the countryside and for now it will be known as . . Bittersweet.

Your Scribe is always looking for cabins that are "reasonably priced," assuming there are a lot of people out there who would like to get a camp before the prices go totally out the roof.

Here is one in New Sharon., a small town in Franklin County located between Augusta and Farmington. It is just north of the Belgrade Lakes area.

This cabin is modest, to be sure, but check the price.

It is on about an acre of land, with 218 feet on the Sandy River. There is offstreet parking, and shade trees to cool the place in summer.

The cabin sits high above the (shallow) water, meaning you have to have experience as a cliff diver in Acapulco to consider climbing up and down the sandy hill to get back and forth. But hey, we're talking cost.

The cabin has a loft, a few utilities and a bathroom. It also has an outhouse, though I can't figure out why you need both. It has an old-fashioned pump in the kitchen bringing in water.

It would need a lot of work. But the other houses on the dirt road are handsome enough. And the local golf course is right down the street.

Interested? Call Sandy River Realty at 207-778-6333, and ask for Rebecca.

First it was Bob the Reluctant Woodsman who wanted to make some money thinning my forest, but he has not as much severed a thin branch.

Recently, Gary the Energetic Logger said he would do the job. But he has done nothing in a month, so I assume he is not going to get the work done either.

Gary says it's a small job. He makes money on clearcuts, as he did at the end of our road.

I am small potatoes (if you can stand the mixed metaphor). The idea of felling only selected trees is not one that is appealing - or evidently profitable.

My third option: Nick the Woodchuck Hunter.

I met Nick this spring, as he was walking by the property with a rifle slung over his shoulder. I usually do not engage armed, unfamiliar men in conversation but in the woods I take on more of a swashbuckling persona.

I hailed him. Then we talked about 'chuck hunting, which he was engaged in at the moment. We also opined on the fields to the west that had been resold over the winter.

A huge tree had fallen across the driveway of Your Scribe, and I asked if he knew anyone who could cut it up.

He said he'd do it. And he did. I said I would pay him but I did not reach him on the phone to get his address. Lame excuse perhaps, yet I will pay him when I see him. (In my defense, he said he didn't want to be paid for such a small task.)

Nick appears to be a man of action, at least by comparison. I will call him this week, and perhaps we can discuss the project when I am at the cabin next weekend. I need dead trees down, and some live ones removed to let more light into the forest.

(An aside: Your Scribe had a great weekend on identifying stories for this blog. I even took photos, which I can't upload until Monday. Here are some upcoming yarns: a really cheap riverfront cabin for sale; the fast growth of the bittersweet on my cabin, which is giving it the lived-in look; and Imelda's Yarnshop, which sells many craft-type items. That might be a strange topic for Cabin Country, but I have high regard for anyone who can convert a factory that made wooden squash rackets into a three-floor yarn shop that serves as a resource for the women in the area).

Looking at my new book purchase, I am wondering if fishing in Maine lakes, rivers and streams has diminished over the years.

The text is "Maine Lodges and Sporting Camps" by Donald Wilson in 2005. It was put out by Arcadia, that "pictures only" publisher that produces thin histories of many communities like "Portland Remembered" or "The Good Old Days of Augusta."

I liked Wilson's book. Now it ranks among my Maine favorites, a list that is topped by "Arundel" and "Quiet Presence: Stories of Franco-Americanas in New England."

Many of the photos in "Maine Lodges and Sporting Camps" are sepia shots of the sporting-camp life of a century ago.

In those days people could travel by train to all corners of Maine, many of which are not served by rail today. There were passenger stations in Rangeley, Bangor and Belgrade, among others.

One old photo, in fact, shows a steam-engine train of the Bangor and Aroostook Railroad, above an advertisement of the day, "To Bed in Boston - AWAKE IN AROOSTOOK."

Most of the book's photos show fishermen with many lunkers. They caught square tail trout and landlocked salmon, bass and white perch, brown and brook trout.

The pictures show anglers with strings of fish. You don't see fishermen walk away with a dozen keepers anymore. Was the fishing so much better then?

There are variables here, of course. Many sportsmen today take the catch-and-release approach; perhaps they catch many but bring home only one.

And there are more stringent limits on fish. You can't take home two dozen salmon even if you were skillful enough to catch them.

Still, it seems like the number of catchable fish has declined.

Anecdotal evidence suggests that anglers are producing fewer fish, and/or more stories laced with disappointment. (But maybe that's just me, who would have trouble finding a salmon at the Shaw's fish counter).

There are many more fishermen today than a century ago. And because of better gear, outboard motors and even fishfinders, the number of trophy fish certainly has diminished.

The number of fishing camps also has declined. Wilson's book notes that many camps were destroyed by fire and not rebuilt. But the changing interests of modern-day families also has contributed to fewer profitable sporting camps.

That being said, I am happy that state officials continue to stock lakes and rivers. Fishing still provides great satisfaction, and the investment to keep the waterways populated with fish is worth it.