Is There Anything To Do There?

     Someone asked me upon our return from vacationing in Maine, "Is there anything to do there?"I stood speechless for an eternal moment as my mind swirled with thoughts. I could list all the wonderful things there are to do on the New England coast or I could give my honest answer which is, "Why would anyone want to do anything? It's a vacation." I suppose Steve and I feel like we're so busy during the other fifty weeks of the year that we agree a vacation should be about relaxing and doing nothing. That doesn't mean we actually do nothing. We did plenty. But only if it felt fun. : )
     We rented the big house on Simpson Lane again. This time we shared it with Steve's four brothers and their wives. It was a fuss-free time and everyone spent their days as they wished. We came together mornings and evenings and shared most meals as well as a few outings. We could not know  last winter when we planned this trip that it would fall one week after my mother-in-law's passing. So, it was fitting that the brothers had this rare occasion to spend a wonderful week together at this moment in time.
     While there isn't much to do in Maine (?), we managed to have a really great time. Chelsea lives close enough that she and her family visited us for a day at the beach three times. I had breakfast with a friend whom I met when we lived in Maine in 1986-87 and who still lives there. The brothers and one wife chartered a fishing boat for one afternoon and brought back dinner in the form of a large, striped bass. That one fish fed nine people! We dined on seafood almost every night, including thirty-five lobsters at the house. We walked on the beach mornings and evenings. We played BINGO at the local firehouse on the one rainy evening. It was fun chatting with the locals while we played. One sister-in-law and I spent a day at Boothbay Harbor popping in and out of shops, dining haborside and exploring a bit of the coastline. On Sunday morning, we walked a half mile to a pretty stone church built around the turn of last century. They hold church services only in the summer. We chased seagulls, drew pictures in the sand, played in tide pools, interviewed a metal detectorist on a rocky beach, played Bocce ball and paddle ball, surfed the waves, hunted rocks and shells, built pools and sandcastles, ate taffy, got sand in our swimsuits, and watched the boats in the harbor come and go.
     It was a challenge to adjust coming home. I looked up real estate in Maine and New Hampshire on the internet the day after we got home. I assume this is what most folks do after vacationing in their favorite place. The desire to run away and live on the coast of Maine will wear off soon enough, especially with school starting up next week. Or maybe it won't wear off and I'll be dreaming of New England all year until we can travel again. Either way, the memories are here to stay.

The house on Simpson Lane

The harbor boat club across the fisherman's foot path in front of the house.

Charlie plays in a tide pool.

Steve and brother Luke played paddle ball.

Hugo during a golden sunset on the black sand at the harbor beach

Sister-in-law Veronica fishing at our favorite beach.

The footbridge across Boothbay Harbor. Built in 1901.

Coastline at Boothbay harbor.

Pop and Hugo draw pictures in the sand.

Dodging the rain and watching taffy made in town at Goldenrod Kisses before we played BINGO. The husbands were good sports and played too. Sisters-in-law Joyce, Veronica, and Fran.

My favorite past time, collecting tiny shells and sea glass.

The tiniest bits of perfection in a little antique bottle.

The final brothers' photo before we all drive back to our everyday lives.