Access Blogs
(Display Name not set)August 2009 Archives
Day #4 in Maine:
The breeze is consistent. The smell of Penobscot Bay salt air combined with pine, birch, shells and shoreline takes me to the happiest place.
I grew up here every summer from the age of 14... I camped with buddies, explored islands, had boathouse parties, a first girlfriend; I went on endless island picnics in our family boat, devouring lobster at every available moment.
I've been coming here too long to let a gray day take a bite out of bliss. The fog brings with it opportunity - to play games, to horse around in boathouses, to paint with watercolors. Today something new happened, a "never before" stroke of luck.
The breeze is consistent. The smell of Penobscot Bay salt air combined with pine, birch, shells and shoreline takes me to the happiest place.
I grew up here every summer from the age of 14... I camped with buddies, explored islands, had boathouse parties, a first girlfriend; I went on endless island picnics in our family boat, devouring lobster at every available moment.
I've been coming here too long to let a gray day take a bite out of bliss. The fog brings with it opportunity - to play games, to horse around in boathouses, to paint with watercolors. Today something new happened, a "never before" stroke of luck.