Driving north today towards the Maine coast presented bright swatches of reds and golds beginning their blaze through the Berkshire Mountains and beyond. But an autumnal peak is still off stage awaiting its flamboyant entrance. The weather systems were amazing though as each rolled past me one after the other and then back again for a repeat performance! They ranged from huge yawning bright blue skies with white high-peaked clouds to heavy metal gray masses, and then a low-hanging dark green curtain that portends tornados. None occurred.
I realized today though that during the many times I drove from Maine to New York and back again over a period of twenty-five years plus, I never fully inhaled and exhaled until I crossed the New Hampshire state line into Maine. I don’t really know why this happens but perhaps it is because Maine represents freedom for me. One of the reasons for my immediate inner release when I enter even southern Maine (those who reside mid-coast and north claim points south are really New Hampshire!), are the tall pine trees, which step forward as if they only reside in this one place. Yet, there is more. Maine’s coast line is rugged and forceful wearing rough rock smooth as it roars and purrs. Even if I do not see it, I know it is happening; it is a constancy of nature. Although today I did see Maine’s spectacular display of ocean surf pounding its craggy shore as a small sliver of sun finally slid through dark clouds creating mist, magic, and beauty.
I believe the confluence of tall green pines and rocky shore etched with time by an unrelenting surf … all distinctly and unequivocally Maine … are probable reasons I begin to breathe deeply and fully when I enter this great state.
Tomorrow is a long journey to my cottage somewhere between Bar Harbor and Southwest Harbor. More to come.