I think my favorite time in Maine is the end of August / early September. The black flies have flown (where do you suppose they go, anyway?). The flowers are in full bloom (phlox is a favorite and in just about every garden), the apple trees are ripe for the picking. I threw caution to the wind (as well as Dylan's football schedule) and packed up the kids and headed North. My parents came down to watch said kiddies for a few days when I was stuck between camp ending and my vacation time. We followed them back home, stopping at my brothers on the way. We crammed so many things in while we were there: watching a hurricane at the lighthouse,
biking the new rail trail,
fishing in Eastport (twice!),
poking around Gleason's cove, canoeing the bay,
and even taking time to watch an otter in the bay which was dually watched by a pair of baby eagles across the way. Amazing stuff. We picked blueberries and blackberries on the barn path (below). Aaahhh - Maine. The way life should be. Now if they could only get better jobs and schools up there!
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