I thought I’d offer a little photographical palate cleanser today.
It’s opening day for many baseball teams across the country, including our own beloved Red Sox. For many of us, this marks the ‘official’ start of spring.
Sure, sure, it snowed a little this morning here, but spring will not be denied its rightful place in this hemisphere! (Do I hear a “Hell, yeah?!”) Thus, she is on her way with songbirds, and color, and (much looked-forward-to) warmth. So consider this my photographic sayonara to old man winter.
I actually spent more time in Maine this winter than in all the past winters since we’ve owned The Inn. There is an E.B. White quote that I think about each time I cross the big bridge into Maine. It’s even scrawled on a small chalkboard in the kitchen of our house there. I can tell you, now, that it is true for me even in winter.
“What happens to me when I cross the Piscataqua and plunge rapidly into Maine at a cost of seventy five cents in tolls? I cannot describe it. I do not ordinarily spy a partridge in a pear tree, or three french hens, but I do have the sensation of having received a gift from a true love.” – E.B. White
Thanks for readin’ (er…. looking).
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