Once upon a time, I was madly in love with someone madly in love with me.   He told me that he wanted to take me sailing in Maine to its deserted islands.  Though an avid outdoors person, I had never been north of New York at the time, and he wanted to show me the beauty of Maine.

Twenty years later, having long gone our separate ways, I finally made it to Maine.  I did not make it to a deserted island, but I did to the seashores.  I was amazed by the state’s beauty:  it’s incredible, romantic, foggy, misty, cliff-ridden with crashing waves, fall beauty.   Past regrets came forward, but also a thank you to the person who understood me well enough at the time to know how much I would love Maine.

The pictures do not do it justice.  You need the wide expanse, the smell of Christmas, and the pounding of the surf on rocks, and then hear the clatter of the rocks as they roll towards the sea.

The Inn at Southwest Harbor, my B&B away from home.

Some of the favorite photos I like to take are of different textures.  Maine had many textures, in varied gorgeous colors.

Gingerbread pancakes. What’s not to love.