Last year when it was time to make the lobster, we left a note on the windshield of Henry’s truck in the evening, and the next afternoon, he came to our door with a pile of soft shells that he had caught–somewhere close to Boothbay Harbor I imagine, as that’s where we were–and we steamed them in a giant pot of salted water, 12 minutes to the pound. It was delicious.  Along with we had potatoes, corn on the cob and I can’t remember what else, and this year we went back to the old system of using a lobster table on the beach.  Build a fire under the table, and then load the table up with seaweed, then the lobsters, the corn, the potatoes and they say an egg, which is cooked when everything is ready.  The lobsters went in, the corn went in, and they used a watch–it is an awful lot of lobster to trust an egg with.  Same sides of big chunks of new potatoes from the farm stand(boiled til al dente and then roasted in a hot oven), corn on the cob, ripe tomatoes drizzled with olive oil and salt, and pan biscuits.  For dessert we had a wild blueberry cobbler.  It was all so delicous I wish I could have it all again, but the best part were Helen, Suzie, Tom, Cindy, Gayle, Gail, Sparkles and Pat.  I miss them already and it hasn’t even been a day.