This is Where our Story Begins: A Personal Reflection from Supermoon Founder Alexis Grillo

This is Where our Story Begins: A Personal Reflection from Supermoon Founder Alexis Grillo

A quick decision on a cold, Thursday evening in January — this is where the story begins. Bradley had taken a short break from his workday in nearby Porter’s Landing to tour the property before winter’s early darkness settled in. A long, icy driveway led to a 1970’s-era gambrel-roof camp perched on the edge of the frozen Harraseeket River. We had already agreed that if Bradley felt like he was up for the project, we would go for it. We’d been living together in Harpswell for the past five years, married for the last two. Although we both keep ourselves busy with various pursuits — me as a full-time nonprofit administrator, artist, and graduate student at the University of Southern Maine, and Bradley as a field engineer at a marine construction company and enthusiastic tinkerer — we both felt ready to take a chance on something like this. Although I barely had time to digest the idea of buying a new property before we were making an offer, I never felt the slightest indecision about it. Signing the papers six weeks later, I felt a thrill of excitement, like launching hard into the air from a playground swing at peak momentum. We were floating in the air while the little rubber seat, chained to the swing-set, fell back to earth.  

Not everyone thought we were making such a good decision by buying the property, but our resolve was firm. I came up with the name “Supermoon” while walking our dog in the early morning twilight and catching a glimpse of a silver crescent against the dawn's pink sky. I sketched out a quick logo in my studio that evening — a shooting star spelling out the name of our new business and then spiraling out into space. We spent the next two months putting the final touches on our house in Harpswell, a 1980’s Acorn Deckhouse that was badly damaged in a 2010 fire. We had totally renovated the home over the past seven years and renting it out was the first step in our business plan. The process, although nerve-racking, went relatively smoothly, and with renters secured Bradley and I packed up all our belongings and moved in with his parents. That was April. We were all-in. 

The new house needs more than a fresh coat of paint and a few quick fixes, however. Our goal is to build a new home with attached AirBnB that produces a steady income, and there’s a long road ahead. Just about every board, pipe and wire needs to be replaced. Tall, gangly trees have been allowed to grow too close to the exterior, some of which are girdled with rusty chains, and rotten decks hang off the front and back of the house. The walls are impregnated with the pungent smell of nicotine, mold and animals, and there’s so much dust that I could write a novel with my fingers, starting at one end of the house and finishing at the other. The layout has clearly been altered several times in the home’s lifetime, but none to skillfully—padding has been affixed to the ceiling above the staircase to prevent knocks to the head. More and more bits of trash - the rotten side of an old dinghy, piles of old ballast and brick, fast food containers, and half-buried dog toys, have appeared with the melting snow. Fixing up the place is like pealing a rotten onion—pull off one layer and there’s another sodden brown layer underneath. Our original timeline - having the project completed by the fall, already seems laughable. I raked the property for almost sixteen hours a few weekends ago, trying to carve out a yard, and finished perhaps a third of the project.

Still, every time I visit the property, I feel a sense of possibility—our buoyant spirits have not yet succumbed to gravity. Bradley stops by the house each day before and after work, doing a few small things each time. On weekends, equipped with respirators, hammers and crowbars, we work on taking the structure down to its most basic elements, one board or chunk of insulation at a time. Old appliances, bathroom fixtures and other bits of material pile up outside before being hauled to the dump or snapped up through craigslist, and reusable elements are carefully stored under tarps. When it’s time for a break, we walk out to the backyard and gaze out over the marshy estuary. It’s not an easy project, but we are thankful for this opportunity to test our mettle, take a leap and see how far our ambition can take us.

What in the Heavens is Supermoon?

What in the Heavens is Supermoon?