On the road by 9 am - heading north on 95. I drove through the Big Dig Tunnel in Boston and reached Kittery, ME by 12:30. Driving over the Piscataqua Bridge btween NH and ME evokes so many memories for me.
As a child with a big family my main experiences of summer were massive camping trips. We all piled into the VW camper and headed for the coast of Maine or the White Mountains in NH. I always seemed to end up in the way back squished between the sleeping bags and the coolers. Someone might pass me a MAD magazine if I was lucky, but I loved the drive and watching the long stretch of Maine highway and the blue, bleu sky and the tall pines emerging out as we made progress past Portland. Even tho the highway sign warns of moose we never saw one. Usually we went to Casco Bay and stayed on Hermit Island in a campsite by the beach and stony coves.
Later as a teenager we went to a friend's family compound on a lake near Sebago. Running through the woods from house to house and swimming naked with the loons in the pond.
Today I drove east on Rt 3 into the craggy peninsula's and islands of Penobscot Bay and nearly cried driving through Bucksport because the harbor and islands reminded me of Sal in One Morning in Maine.
I have arrived in a place of pure pleasure: Haystack Mountain School of Craft on Deer Isle with a crowd of other craft artists. We are all here to learn and explore. Nothing could be better.
As a child with a big family my main experiences of summer were massive camping trips. We all piled into the VW camper and headed for the coast of Maine or the White Mountains in NH. I always seemed to end up in the way back squished between the sleeping bags and the coolers. Someone might pass me a MAD magazine if I was lucky, but I loved the drive and watching the long stretch of Maine highway and the blue, bleu sky and the tall pines emerging out as we made progress past Portland. Even tho the highway sign warns of moose we never saw one. Usually we went to Casco Bay and stayed on Hermit Island in a campsite by the beach and stony coves.
Later as a teenager we went to a friend's family compound on a lake near Sebago. Running through the woods from house to house and swimming naked with the loons in the pond.
Today I drove east on Rt 3 into the craggy peninsula's and islands of Penobscot Bay and nearly cried driving through Bucksport because the harbor and islands reminded me of Sal in One Morning in Maine.
I have arrived in a place of pure pleasure: Haystack Mountain School of Craft on Deer Isle with a crowd of other craft artists. We are all here to learn and explore. Nothing could be better.
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