If you were to say to someone in Maine that you were taking the ferry to Long Island to visit public gardens, they would look at you and think, “What public gardens?” They would conjure up images of an outpost in Casco Bay populated by people who fish for a living and have little time to garden, and by summer residents who might have a small vegetable garden, flower bed or hedgerow of rugosa rose. But public gardens? There are none to be found. It’s a simple place where the word “ostentatious” isn’t used very often. I like Long Island, Maine — my kind of people and my kind of gardens.