Yes, I think it’s safe to say that I have turned decidedly, and with some relief, toward the sun, straight back into possibility.
And I’ve begun, once again, to dream. I’ve come to see that dreams can resurface and that there is certainly still inspiration for me to find in this life.
Then I hear a sort of quiet whispering within my heart reminding me that most of us have to fight for our dreams if we really want them. And I know it is time for me to rise up above my own physical impediments and once again strive for mine.
For such a long while now I’ve been burrowed into my quietly beautiful life here in the mountains of northern New Mexico. It’s a simple, pared down, peaceful one that has been very good to me.
However I’ve come to the realization that, while I am contented here, I do still have one wish: I really want to get out more!
As in I want to see friends again AND I want to travel… just a little bit.
I’ve let discomfort and weakness define me for too long. Enough already!
So it is off to Maine I went. Kim, he being from New England, took a summer-long road trip in the Airstream to visit family and friends. And I flew to Maine to join him for a week.
Ah Maine, my heart’s desire.
I’ve always been drawn to the idea of Maine, though I’d never been. And it was even more heart-stirring than I’d imagined.
The salt of the sea on the air, the history, the people, the flowers in bloom everywhere. It was almost more beauty and charm than my senses could take in all at once.
Kim had parked the Airstream at the home of an old childhood friend named Dick whom I met there for the first time. He lives right on the ocean, tucked into a small cove on a mid-coast island called Spruce Head Island, but I’ll introduce you to Dick a bit later. (Here’s his front yard)…
I flew into Portland but arrived so late, in the wee hours of the morning in fact, that I took a hotel room. It doesn’t look like much in this photo but let me tell you the sight of the bed, alone, made me swoon and want to weep with happiness… It had been a long day.
Kim picked me up in the morning, just a few hours after I’d crawled into that organic cotton splendor, but I was already awake so excited was I to see Maine for the first time. We headed out for the two-hour drive up north to Dick’s.
Oh how I wish I’d taken more and better photos at that point to show you but…
… I was just too captivated, drinking in all of the lush green, the beautiful old Colonial villages we passed, the DRIZZLE on the car’s windshield…
… that wondrous smell of the sea, the mist, the greenery, the rivers and marshes, the flowers, all combined into one perfect perfume that was positively intoxicating to an old north-westerner now living in the desert. What a comfort to be taking in all of that delicious WET!
And the great diner where we had breakfast. It’s called Moody’s Diner and it’s been in Waldoboro, Maine since 1927. Here’s a link: https://moodysdiner.com. I had my very first GRILLED muffin there. What a revelation! You see, pictures, I need more pictures!
I just couldn’t get over all the thriving plants both wild and cultivated, simply everywhere, sending out their oxygen to make the morning air so fresh…
… or LAWNS, which you don’t see many of in New Mexico…
… and the little white shingled cottages… I felt as if I was back “home” in West Seattle although Maine is clearly different from the northwest…
… there were wild LUPINES everywhere…
… add to that the mist-shrouded shore…
… and it was quintessential New England everywhere I looked, squared!
The docks and pilings and little shacks took me back, so solidly, to fond memories of my great-grandfather’s workshop. It was a pretty big shed that sat on top of a small dock on the bay in the northwest. I could almost smell the tobacco from his pipe that was always either lit and in his mouth, or tapped out to store in his shirt pocket, so vivid were my memories…
But then THIS took me very happily and completely by surprise…
No one had prepared me, nor could they have, for my very first experience of a Maine LOBSTER ROLL!
Man oh man, I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted anything better than a McLoon’s Lobsta Shack lobster roll! I’m afraid it’s beyond my capacity to describe and the photo just doesn’t do it justice.
We sat out there by the sea watching lobster men pull up to the dock with their catch and a restaurant employee come out to take them into the shack. It doesn’t get any fresher than that!
Not long after McLoon’s we turned onto a captivating dirt road…
… which took us past more of that delectable wild green…
… and a sweet cottage that sits on Dick’s property…
… to evidence of cultivated gardens…
… and at last the Airstream!
It had been awhile since I’d seen her and she was a sight for sore eyes, packed to the brim with everything I needed for the duration of my stay. That was Kim’s brilliant idea so that I wouldn’t have to carry much through the airports.
And this is where we were to stay for my entire visit except for an extraordinary journey to and a stay on Monhegan Island, the “artist’s island” which I’ll tell you all about in my next post.
And finally, last but not least…
… I give you Dick, Kim’s awesome childhood friend and, I’m happy to say, mine now too….
I’ve read a series of books by Louise Penny that take place in Quebec, Canada. There is a point at which one of her characters is standing contemplating a painting of a craggy, bitter, angry-looking old woman (also one of the book’s characters—Ruth, Quebec’s poet laureate), depicted as the holy mother Mary at the end of her life. It was painted by Claire, also a character in the novel.
He gasps but not because of the shock of seeing Mary represented in this way. No, he has detected something in the old woman’s eyes. As he looks at her and silently ponders, he understands what it is.
Claire has captured Ruth in the moment that despair turns into hope.
And that is what Maine was and will always be for me: the moment when despair turned into hope.
Love to you all,
Jeane
Thank you again and again, good friend. I see you looking good and I am very happy to have you back with the living for the rest of the time we all have, right? I have recently been reading May Sarton, who spent a lot of time in Maine. Your photos, as always, tell such stories. There is interest in every bite captured! Also, I have been wondering when the book is being released! Love to you Jeane.