Maine’s Best Fair Is Almost Here: Don’t Miss Unity This September

Don’t be like me and ask when the Blueberry Festival was, only to find out it wrapped up three days ago... Here’s your reminder for one of Maine’s best weekends: the Common Ground Country Fair in Unity, September 19–21.

Every fall, the hayfields outside Unity turn into a small city. Cars line the grass, volunteers wave you down in neon vests, and the walk to the gate feels like a ritual. Once you’re inside, the pace shifts. A draft horse digs into the dirt. A sheepdog slices across the field. Sparks fly from a blacksmith’s hammer.

The whole fair smells like fall turned up a notch: woodsmoke in your hair, roasted corn and sweet hay hanging in the air, and cider in a paper cup that will set you back five bucks but still feel like the best thing you have had all year. Kids chase chickens past rows of handmade baskets.

That is the rhythm here: animals, food, craft, and talk. Farmers trade notes on soil and seed-saving under big tents. Artisans spin wool into yarn and carve spoons that will outlast most of what you have in your kitchen drawers. And if you are one of the poor souls allergic to hay or horses, toss some allergy meds in your bag. You will thank me when the sheepdogs start running.

This is not about rides or deep-fried gimmicks. It is messy. It is stubborn. It is Maine, unvarnished. People do not come here to watch, they come to take part. To eat. To learn. To walk away with mud on their boots and something real in their hands.

Circle the dates now: Unity, September 19–21. Do not wait to hear about it after. Fall in Maine begins when the gates open in Unity.

Experience Maine’s Best Fair →

Three Left Hands Is Rewriting Portland in Paint

Walk down Congress on the right day and you’ll see it: Portland speaking in brushstrokes again. Signs with weight and character. Open House. Benny’s. Supper Club. Luncheonette. They don’t just mark a door, they shift the whole block. That’s the work of Three Left Hands.

I first stopped Sam and Rachel outside Benny’s, just to say hi and tell them how much I loved their work. We became friends over Instagram after that, and a few weeks later they invited me to come see what they were painting at Luncheonette.

That front wall at Luncheonette feels like a time warp. The kind of old-school lettering you find sunbaked into the sides of buildings in the desert of New Mexico. Signs that don’t just advertise but anchor a place. And soon, their brushstrokes will hang over Supper Club too, one of the most talked-about openings on the horizon. Even before a single plate hits the table, the lettering is setting the tone.

These aren’t the kind of logos you peel off a printer. They’re painted, sanded, gilded, mixed until the colors hum. A vinyl decal says “temporary.” A hand-painted sign says “we’re here, and we matter.” In a city where restaurants can flip faster than leases, the lettering lingers. Sometimes long after the business is gone.

That’s why their work feels like a love letter back to Portland. Not nostalgia, not trend. Every brushstroke is proof this city is still alive, still human, and still worth falling in love with every time you walk down the street.

See more of their work on Instagram →