Lighthouses & Lobster rolls

I'm in the land of EB White and Andrew Wyeth and Edna St Vincent Millay. Listening to crickets and gazing out at the cool, still indigo of Penobscot Bay. I've discovered a place called Owl's Head where there is a small lighthouse, and where I met a man called Colton Ross who told me all about his brother who would walk the trails there daily for the inspiration for his sketches. Sometimes he'd take a rowboat out to sea for a better view of the rocky coastline. He's been dead two years now but Mr Ross visits the lighthouse so he can be closer to him. "My car is sea foam mist" he says. "That's what they call it." He counts the cars in the parking lot when he arrives and when he leaves. "It's a small town" he says. "Only 1500 in the last census due to the economic downturn." My friend is about 90 years old but he has a full head of soft white hair he pushes away from his face with long fingers. He tells me where I can swim -- a place the tourists don't know about and he asks me if I like Lancashire Hot Pot (as I'm from England).