Maine

We got to Maine yesterday evening.
It was raining, puddles were everywhere. Even the pine trees over my car couldn't shield me from the elements. On the root-covered, uphill path to the house we'd rented by the sea, my sandals squished the soggy grass, my jeans and t-shirt got soaked.

When I packed for this vacation, back in Abu Dhabi, how could I've forgotten I was headed for northern New England? I should've brought warmer clothes. Water repellent clothes.

But that night's discomfort was a small price to pay.

Early the next morning I woke to the moan of lobster boats, stopping to check their traps and then moving on. I looked out the window: the rain was gone, the fog lifted. Dark purple delphiniums, pink spirea, and yellow lilies bloomed under a golden sun.

The living room of Cliff House overlooks the metal-blue water of the Sheepscot Bay. Rugosa rosebushes border a meandering path down to a rocky point below the house.

Three years ago M and my daughter Julia, now 12, spotted a white seal there. I'm hoping for a repeat sighting, especially for our two youngest boys, Albert and Hugh, 9 and 8.

The smell of the sea is even stronger than in Abu Dhabi. At night the air is chilly, filled with the scent of a log fire.