I’m not going to lie. Last night, when I fell on the ice during the snow storm and couldn’t get myself up because of all the ice and had to crawl on my hands and knees through the snow to my back porch, I was feeling a little grumpy at you.
As I was crawling through the snow, I thought to myself, “someplace warm sounds really good right now.”
But I woke up this morning to the warm wood stove, fresh eggs from our chickens, and trees covered in beautiful white, and I remembered why I love you so much.
And it’s your birthday! So, happy birthday, Maine!
I grew up in Texas, in the Dallas area, and I never seemed to fit in. First of all, you really have to know how to dress fancy in Dallas, and wearing heels feels like torture to me. When I moved to Maine and saw everyone walking around in Bean Boots, I knew I was amongst my people. I have lived in the south, the west, but Maine is my home.
Thank you for giving me a sense of place. And, as a reminder of how much I love you, I searched through some old pictures that remind me of just how special you are to me.
This one is the piggy who was eating apples one day on the side of the road when I was on my way home from work. “I love Maine,” I thought that day as I took the picture.
And there’s fall. I mean, I love you more than I can say in the fall. This is one of my favorite views in the fall from the Treworgy Orchard where we visit every year for your lovely corn maze.
But, of course, summer is just the best. And, because we were never going to afford a little farm in the west, I am thankful to you, Maine, for making our little backyard homestead possible.
Thank you, Maine, for being who you are and giving me and my family a home! I’m going to forgive you for the little ice incident last night and focus on your beauty, simplicity, and charm.