Nature has the best breath. And in late September Maine it smells of pine, rain, salt, seaweed, and sweet decay. If you can pull your peepers away from the water (nonstop ocean, lakes, coves, and those pretty bogs – you know, the kind of low wetland riddled with thin steeples of grey dead trees that always catch your eye), the forests are holding their own. Ferns are the woodland jewels, all flashy in their burnished gold. And mushrooms, the earth’s great coexisters, hang nonchalantly off logs or pop out of the mulch with a sleepy wet yawn.
It rained most of the time we were there, but rain and Maine suit each other. The mist hugs the coast and kisses your face so tenderly. Makes you all giddy. We stayed near Belfast on Swan Lake, then closer to Acadia National Park. Acadia…. I mean, come on. Be still, my sea-swollen heart. We like to get around on our bikes, so we rode around some lakes and through the woods to the ocean. The rocky coast had slipped on its silkiest veil of haze and draped itself in long beads of slimy weeds and shards of pearly shells. Z and I took off our shoes and donned our black Hellbender dream-clothes, and John shot us on the rocks against the grey dull sky.
Maine marks the end of our first stint on the road. I think we’re getting the hang of pulling the Wonder Wheels. Z has been able to keep up with remote schooling. Autumn in the northeast has tattooed its image into our memories. Kind of comforting, the death of a leaf. And with the wet weather, ten days of dirty duds, and popcorn kernels hiding in the creases of our bed, the trailer is even starting to feel a little lived in. Which feels good.
Next? Another stunning corner of the country: the Northwest! That ought to throw some major eye-pie our way. But the sweetest sight to see out West? Our lovable Lulu Em!
