Life and writing, serious and humorous, old and young, past and present: it's all part of the fabric.
Memories of Ocean Point near Boothbay, Spruce Point near Rockland, Acadia and scenes along the way. Lush and golden, I see the rocks and beach stones as treasure. The ocean as a mirror even when it rages and the outcroppings and points and bays simply nature at its best. We only have a week a year there, but it makes the other 51 go a little faster! Janet Clare aka F.
Ahhh, yes, same territory, same feelings . . . xx
To disappear into it means becoming a part of it, and feeling good and free..
... more magic of the Maine coast.
this view is is breathtaking...
Oh, Yes! to the grandeur that you describe... I will never take it for granted...I can see how much you love it...
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Ditto what Sketchbook Wandering said....Just wish the winters were a tad shorter.
This poem was like a little vacation I took in my head at work. Thank you!
“Maybe we’re here only to say: house, bridge, well, gate, jug, olive-tree, window--at most, pillar, tower--but to say them, remember, oh! to say them in a way that the things themselves never dreamed of so intensely.” --Rilke
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