Western Maine, yo.
It's cool in the early morning. The window screens breathe in and out with the breeze. The sun finds all sorts of windows it's not on speaking terms with three seasons a year. Its fingers point out a spot a painter missed in 1901.
The birds are arguing or in love -- what's the difference -- and the butterflies start their congeries of flightpaths around the lupens and phlox. I've already opened the basement below the basement, and put the bicycle out on the patch of pavement behind the house that is my boy's ration. He'll spend the morning looping around it a thousand times, as precisely as a driver with a sponsor. -- More at Sippican Cottage: A Hint Of Debris
Given the Maine winter, it's only fair you get the Maine summer. Even better, if you live far enough off the "rock-bound coast," you get to live forever in the gone world.Posted by gerardvanderleun at June 10, 2012 9:49 AM