Summer in the other Portland:
one of its fine lighthouses, the miracles the sea works on ancient granite,
a huzza of wildflowers, and a 1758 summer home on Swan Island (Aaron Burr slept here!).
Two days after returning from our western odyssey, it was
time to drive 1900 miles north of Naples.
After a respite in North Carolina for some southern Appalachia mountain
biking, we pushed on to Portland, Maine.
We call it “The Antidote”, in that it is a beautiful, coastal city
devoid of traffic and rife with young people and good food. It has also been a good base camp for weekend
excursions to the Berkshire Mountains of Western Massachusetts, the White
Mountains of New Hampshire, and northern Maine’s Acadia National Park. New England is unlike anyplace we’ve ever
been, every corner of the bucolic country dotted with historic villages,
whitewashed churches and family cemeteries.
Nothing about the preposterously rocky and rooted trails – or local
tales of bitter winters and black flies with the thaw – suggest this is an easy place to live. But we are
certainly grateful to experience the best of what the northeast can offer in a
single season. Wishing these summer days
lasted as long as they seem to for children…
Hiking with friends through Berkshire meadows, careful to not trample the odd five-lined skink. Plus, an abandoned factory complex turned art and music venue. Thank you, MOMA and Wilco.
Looking out on the islands of Acadia;
freeing a damselfly from the carnivorous snares of sundew.
High in the Whites, and a trailside discovery.
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