Maine: A Prologue

This is my favorite time of year in New England, specifically in Maine. The days are still warm enough to run down to the lake for a swim, and the chilly nights mean s'mores and sweatshirts on the cabin's porch. The leaves, weary of the hot summer's energy, start to turn a magnificent array of vivid colors that I would otherwise not see in Florida. I love how the trees bend over the narrow dirt roads, as if wanting to engulf the cars as they drive underneath.

I still have one more full day up here before returning to the horrible humidity down south. I've taken close to 300 photos, and my camera is whimpering because I left my charger in Orlando. But I'm looking forward to writing about my adventures in quasi-northern Maine, in the tiny town of Rangely, where my family has been spending week-long summer and winter vacations since I was old enough to walk (and therefore old enough to enjoy the Great Outdoors).

But for now, I'm closing the laptop and putting it aside. The occasional haunting howl of the loons on the lake and the chattering crickets outside my window are singing me to sleep tonight.