It is June 1 and I am back in my favorite place—my tiny camp on Little Sebago Lake in Gray, Maine. I feel lucky to be here.
This morning as I sipped my morning cup of coffee on the deck, I watched a bald eagle swoop low over the lake in pursuit of its own breakfast. In the next moment, a tiny hummingbird buzzed in front of me on its way to the feeder hanging outside the kitchen window. Juxtaposition, huh? No wonder this is my favorite place.
I’m not the only one who loves this place. On a blog devoted to lists of folks’ favorite places, Little Sebago Lake appears on one anonymous contributor’s list ahead of Maui, and just after Bali and Nice, France. Doesn’t surprise me.
A week ago, I was in Sweden (the country, not the town) and was surprised to learn that many Swedes have summer cabins, much like mine here in Maine. Swedes call a summer cabin en sommarstuga. It is a favorite place for a Swede who is lucky enough to have one.
Showing posts with label eagles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eagles. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Monday, July 5, 2010
Changes
One of the things I love about my time in Maine is that I get a chance to reconnect with friends with whom I grew up and went to school when I lived in Maine all the time. Last week, I drove with two high school girlfriends to visit at third friend at his home on Snow Pond, near where we all grew up. In the car, I did some math. WE HAVE BEEN OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL FOR MORE THAN FORTY YEARS!
A lot had changed in forty years. Over lunch (lobster rolls, sweet potato chips, hummus and a good bottle of pinot noir), we spoke of marriages, divorces, children and grandchildren. There was the usual litany of physical ailments—knee replacements, failed thyroids, arthritis, cancer. So many changes.
After dessert, we took a boat ride and got caught in a sudden rain shower. We stopped the boat, pulled the canvas over our heads to wait out the rain, and told stories and laughed as we remembered people and events from a long time ago. We used old nicknames—Malsie for me, or maybe Malsey, nobody ever wrote it down.
I did some more math. WE HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY!
When the rain stopped, we threw back the canvas and continued our boat ride. We spotted a bald eagle high in a pine tree, fanning its wings to dry in the sun. A loon popped up in the water beside us. We told more stories. We laughed some more. Old friends with a shared history.
Note to self: Some things never change.
A lot had changed in forty years. Over lunch (lobster rolls, sweet potato chips, hummus and a good bottle of pinot noir), we spoke of marriages, divorces, children and grandchildren. There was the usual litany of physical ailments—knee replacements, failed thyroids, arthritis, cancer. So many changes.
After dessert, we took a boat ride and got caught in a sudden rain shower. We stopped the boat, pulled the canvas over our heads to wait out the rain, and told stories and laughed as we remembered people and events from a long time ago. We used old nicknames—Malsie for me, or maybe Malsey, nobody ever wrote it down.
I did some more math. WE HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY!
When the rain stopped, we threw back the canvas and continued our boat ride. We spotted a bald eagle high in a pine tree, fanning its wings to dry in the sun. A loon popped up in the water beside us. We told more stories. We laughed some more. Old friends with a shared history.
Note to self: Some things never change.
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