Hello, friends!! It's been a while, but we are alive and well in the woods. The boys and I have been spending as much time as possible outside and I haven't had much desire to get on the computer to write.
We came back to Clayton Lake yesterday after a busy week in Downeast and Southern Maine. Although the food and quality time spent with my girlfriends in Portland was wonderful, I was ready to come back into the woods after a weekend in the city. City life fits like a glove for some but not for all and certainly not for me! Don't get disgusted with me for saying so. While I recognize it's not for me, I also know that I have friends and family who love it and are happy to call it home.
It takes all kinds of kinds. Some of us thought the North Pond hermit was crazy and then there were some of us who envied him for a minute. As we are nearing the one year mark of life in the woods, I am certainly one of the latter even more than I was when the story first came out.
When my wheels pointed North, I kept thinking of this poem I found a couple of weeks ago. It is perfect in every way. The only thing I don't like about it is that I'm not the author!
You'll know in your heart......
I know when I see a logging truck or the exit sign for 286 or the Irving in Oakfield that we are getting close. Continuing on 212 and eventually connecting to route 11. Then it's on to Ashland to pick up a pizza from the One Stop before we cross the Aroostook River. Once those wheels hit the dirt it's such a feeling of relief and peace.
Ten months ago on my 25th birthday that first 6 1/2 hour drive was the most dreaded and stressful ride of my life. It didn't take long for that dirt road to become nothing more than a long, LONG driveway that leads to home.
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