Anne Foster-Bourne – the woman who lived like a hurricane and dressed like a dream – took her final bow on Feb. 18, 2026 in Round Pond. She was 81, though “age” was simply another frivolous rule she chose to overrun. If life is a stage, Anne didn’t just play the lead; she owned the theater, directed the cast, and kept the audience clapping for an encore long after the house lights came up.

A life sculpted in bold color

Anne didn’t just inhabit the world; she renovated it. Her life was a masterpiece of expert craftsmanship and intricate design. Whether she was studying the “wildlife” in Paris, inspiring the legends of Hollywood, or literally blasting a cliffside out West, she did it with a fearless heart and a grin that could light up a canyon. She lived in the Land of Possibilities, a place where “can’t” was a foreign language and “what-if” was an invitation to an adventure.

The toolkit of grit & wit

Anne was the essence of cool. She was red nails and dark shades, a rebel who cut school but never cut corners on her integrity. She was the first to arrive in a crisis, armed with a station wagon full of wit, a plan for every disaster, and – when the situation called for it – a weapon.

She was a force to be reckoned with, never a wreck to be forced. Her wild spirit was a one that could only be tamed by the woman herself.

The music and the master

Her heart beat to an infectious rhythm. She could sing and play a melody on a harmonica that would break your heart and then heal it, turning any living room into a sold-out concert hall. With twinkling turquoise eyes that outshone the sky, she mastered every topic that caught her eye – then generously mentored those eager to learn. A true wordsmith and epic storyteller, she collected even more amazing stories than she did rock specimens.

The queen of the table

In a brokerage deal, a heated debate, or a high-stakes cribbage game, one thing was certain: If you were on the other side, you weren’t winning … but you were probably enjoying the ride.

The final word

To those who called her mother, sister, friend, or “Anna:” we were the lucky ones. She was an “a**-kicker” in a cowboy hat – a helmet of pure charisma – and her love was as solid as the gold she was made of.

How to honor her

Boldly chase your dreams. Defend an underdog. Stand up for justice, Love one another fiercely, and for god’s sake, don’t be dull.

Survived by loving family members.

Arrangements are under the direction and care of the Strong-Hancock Funeral Home, 612 Main St, Damariscotta, ME 04543. Condolences and messages for her family may be expressed by visiting stronghancock.com. A celebration of life details to come. In lieu of flowers, please make a donation to the local animal shelter

 

Round Pond Nor’easter

By Anne Foster-Bourne

From out of the North and the East she sped

The trees cowed before her and lay as though dead

“It’s a bad’un alright”, the fisherman said

“Thank God we’re ready for this one”

She came with a fury a thunderous roar

The new King Ro Market sign hangs there no more

They’ll find it one day on the opposite shore

Her rath being barely begun

She cleared every crevice and swept every nook

The biggest and best houses trembled and shook

What wasn’t nailed down she ruined or took

But still the worst was to come

She raged on forever, relentless and mean

Her spite on the shorefront especially keen

leaving behind her a heartwrenching scene

But foder for yarns to be spun

They came out at sunrise and stared with dispare

Devastation and total betrayal of fair

Goodwill and comraderie the only repair

“T’weren’t nobody ready for this one”

            By Anne Foster-Bourne