In Maine, my bedroom windows face a body of water known as Townsend Gut.
I know, I know. I’ve said before that it’s not the most gorgeous name for such a beautiful place.
But boy is the view pretty.
You’re looking at our ‘front yard’ above. As the sun comes up we can see folks crossing the old swing bridge that leads from the ‘mainland’ of Boothbay Harbor (to the left), onto the island. Cool stuff.
But each morning, the sunrise is enough to get me out of bed. Even on a frigid winter morning.
It is as beautiful in the winter as in summer. But I’ve noticed, as I’ve spent a bit more time than usual there these past two winters, that the winter sunrise on Southport offers something absolutely amazing.
For about ten minutes, sometimes less, nearly everything the light touches catches fire.
My nice neighbors’ house catches fire (along with their awesome tree)
Even the dried flowers in the Vampire Room* catch fire inside my house!
And then the water starts to catch fire…
So the other day, I was out taking pictures and the plow guy came down the street, and he was laughing and gesturing and I’m pretty sure he was screaming, “What the fluck are you doing?!” but I couldn’t hear him clearly because he was smart and probably local, so was not going to open his truck window on such a cold morning. This is because Maine heat is tricky and often leaps right out of open car and truck windows (and then you need to chase it all over the street to get it back).
That’s why you should always have a leash in your car in Maine.
So, after being chastised by the plow guy, I couldn’t help myself and, needing good coffee anyway, headed down to see Janet and Oliver at the Southport General Store, and then drive over to Hendricks Head to see what was going on down there. All at, you know, just after seven o’clock a.m. (temperature according to car dashboard? Zero.)
The world wasn’t still on fire down at Hendricks Head, but it was still smoldering so I wasn’t disappointed…
I’ve been heading up to Maine more often these last couple of winters because the Nearly Perfect Husband and I, along with the Old Yankee Man and Granny, have decided that we will eventually head to Maine. Gabe, the Self-Proclaimed-Perfect-Boy, will graduate high school next year, so we’re starting to look at the house for what it needs to be when we are all there.
When I say we’ll be heading north, vs. south, as the years march on, people look at me like I’m crazy.
But I’m a New England girl.
A girl of four seasons, and infinite autumn colors.
Sure, I have a limited ability to engage the letter ‘R’ in conversation…
But I have gained the deep wisdom that frigid temperatures, ice, snow and mud are stepping stones to paradise.
Thanks for readin’
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* the Vampire Room is an old screen porch that was sinking into the ground when we bought The Inn (the house in Southport, that was operated as an Inn in the early 1900s). It has windows all around (similar to a porch) and the woodwork is painted a colonial red. So, at night, with the windows just black and the lights on low, we think it looks like a room that Dracula would have welcomed you into to… well…. entertain you. :))