Maineiac Heart

Thirty-two years ago, I left my childhood home on the edge of the Great Plains and drove, solo, to Maine. You see, as long as I could remember wanting to live somewhere other than where I grew up, I had wanted to live in New England. My parents had honeymooned there. They were Easterners (I was born in NJ), and I saw how my mom pined for the trees and familiarity of the East. We often vacationed there in a rental cabin on the Jersey shore. My love for the ocean came early. Family pictures at the beach during those vacations are often missing me. I was in the water.

That love never left. I grew up knowing that I wanted to live near the Atlantic (something about the depth of blue in the water in the late afternoon, when the sun was behind us--it's the opposite on the West coast). The colonial architecture and history of New England, as well as the pictures of autumn leaves, enticed me. So, with a potential teaching job on the horizon, I packed my Chevy Cavalier over a weekend and off I went.

Lots of living has happened since then. Some dreams filled, some not, and some have changed. However, one thing that I do manage to do is get to the ocean. Kayaking has brought me even closer and led me to this exquisite place on Maine's northeastern coast--Deer Isle/Stonington. No more words. As you look at these pictures, be sure to imagine smelling salt air and rosa rugosa. This place is saturated with those aromas.

It is possible to melt into this.