Maine Observer: Maine embraced us. We hugged back
Nearly four decades later, arriving in Maine was a special time in a family's life.
By Nancy RiggsSpecial to the Telegram
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A new beginning was what my husband and I perceived as we left for Maine. We drove from Woodstock, Vermont to the Waldo County village of Bayside, Maine in March 1984. Hiring a moving truck which got stuck in the driveway of our rented log house was the first obstacle. After all, it was mud season.
We had visited friends in Brooks several times, once in a pop up camper, parking in their sheep pasture. Waking up to baying sheep and a curly sheep face peeking in the screened window is a memory I’ll never forget. We always had memorable trips to Maine; whether it was driving thru Lubec in August fog so thick as to be in a dream; or waking up in the back of our camper to the barking seals in the misty harbor; or hunched over in the chilled sea air, eating homemade sandwiches on the mailboat from Northeast Harbor to the islands. Maine has always given us a hug.