Maine

bumped back to the top
On the way back to Boothbay Harbor this a.m. Yipee!!!

It's Maine...
And it's Autumn
The birches have just begun turning
It's life and it's dying
The lobstermen's boats come returning
With the catch of they day in their holds
and the young boys cold and complaining
The fog meets the beaches and out on
the Reach it is raining --
It's father and son
It's the way it's been done since the
old days
It's hauling by hand ten miles out
from the land where their chow waits
All the days get so lonely and long
and seas grow so stormy and strong but
The Reach will sing welcome as homeward
they hurry along.
And the morning will
blow away
As the waves crash and fall
And the Reach like a siren sings
as she beckons and calls
As the coastline recedes from view
And the seas swell and roll
I will take from the Reach
all that she has to teach
To the depths of my soul –
-Dan Fogelberg, The Reach

Once again, September will find us on the coast of Maine.
Maine has become a safe harbor for me. A place where the natural order is restored once I step off the plane in Portland and get the first whiff of saltwater or hear the longing of the seagulls along the waterfront. My inner compass gets reset and the things that seemed to matter just a day before are all of a sudden reduced to their intrinsic insignificance. The smell of the pines along the bay clear out the haze and once again focus my thoughts on the journey ahead.
And when it is time to leave
the bellowing of the foghorn as the fog creeps in on cat paws,
the popping of the sails on a schooner in the harbor,
the falling of the yellow, red, and orange leaves in the woods as a winter's blanket for the trees,
the ringing of the buoy bell,
and the flashing light from the lighthouse on the island,
are all calling me to come back "home" again soon.