Hello, Boothbay Harbor, Maine
Hello travel friends and stay-at-home friends,
On a berg near Boothbay Harbor, Maine there is a small cottage, so near to the other houses that in the still mornings you can hear what the neighbors are making for dinner and which book the wee child asked for, again. Here one keeps one’s windows open always, to catch sea breezes and keep cool.
In the mornings the sea is calm and the sun is bright. In Boothbay around the 4th of July, the sun gets up early and one is flooded with radiance at about 5:17 a.m. If one has not had the foresight to bring a sleep mask the next obvious choice is to be flooded with radiance on the front porch, or if driven inside out of the brilliance, for it is brilliant indeed, to sit in the wood-paneled living room.
A home with books in it must be of the Race of Joseph.
We found a series of notes which charmed us to no end. Here is what one said:
Re: The Quirky Shower - the easiest way
Lower the white shade on the garden window.
Close the shower curtain. Keep the lower edge tucked inside the shower floor edge.
Reach inside to set the temperature you like then turn the water off.
Step inside and remove your robe and hang it beside your towel (2 hooks)
Turn the water on as you set it.
Afterwards, reverse the steps.
It is powerful to note that if one did not take those steps, anyone in the house had a full view of the shower, shade or no shade. I’m not even sure why they had it there, because it did zero good.
This vacation was quiet and lovely.We would read for hours and come home to take naps every day.
Just to the left of our home was a path which everyone in the neighborhood seemed to use to get to other houses of their neighbors or to the harbor. The house directly down the hill from us received visitors one late afternoon and this is what we could hear:
“Hi, this is a house inspection of your rocking chairs…”
Laughter.
I don’t know about you, but something inside me cries for this lifestyle. A place in life and time where friends walk to your door using paths through other friends and neighbors properties, to announce themselves in such a homey and endearing and cheesy fashion.
A few days into our stay I finally took the path down to the harbor with the intent of swimming, for barely 50 yards into the sea was a dock which looked resplendent for stretching in the sun for an hour or so.
This is not something of which I am proud and for which the Lord will probably never let me live in Maine, but I made it ankle deep before a profound ache swept all bones in the near vicinity so that I squealed with outrage and dashed back out of the several inches of sea I had managed to conquer.
I’ve gotten into glacier lakes that were warmer. The clarity of this photo ought to bear me out as to the veracity of my statement.
Going through these still moments of Maine is giving me a little heartache for the boats, the lighthouses, the neighborliness of the Downeasters. There were many light moments of talk and cheer and exploration and ice cream but what I am remembering today is the melancholy of the north shores. There is no moodiness like certain kinds of summer days up north, near water. Some days sparkle and swing and tang with the light of a thousand diamonds and some days a haze sweeps the sky and the world becomes grey and unexpected.
Michigan had these days too. It could be a clean and windy day with bright blues and clear horizons and the next day sullen clouds would take over and press me down to the earth. It has frightened me from time to time, the moods that take over the northern lands, but with this trip it quieted me. It was peaceful.
Thanks, Maine.
