At the risk of alienating those of you who are sick and tired of my Maine posts, I have one more...although this will be my final one of 2018. It has been a magical six weeks.
A schooner glides past the point of the Rockland Breakwater lighthouse.
Ridiculous beauty...
The first three weeks on Pemaquid Lake was our summer vacation. The second three weeks on Quantabacook was an impulse purchase, booked on a whim in late October of 2017, after returning from our first trip to Loon Landing. What I didn’t know at the time of this impulse was the path of destruction that life was about to cut through my finances. With each new surprise expense, I weighed my options. Should I cancel? Take the hit from the rental company? Each time, I talked my self out of it. When the bills from the wedding started pouring in, when the air conditioner had to be replaced, then the water heater, then the deluge of medical bills...I stubbornly held on to my Loon Landing reservation. It made no financial sense. It was foolish.
But sometimes, the very best experiences of life are birthed in foolishness.
As I looked through the hundreds of pictures we took, these are the ones that will stay with me:
A Walden-esk scene from our hike beside the Georges River.
One of the 45 bass I caught on the same lure during five visits to my fishing hole at the south end of the lake.
A note I left for Pam one morning when she was out kayaking somewhere. This would never happen in Short Pump, and if it did, it would be a text.
Even in a driving rain, my wife contemplates heading out in the kayak anyway.
A schooner glides past the point of the Rockland Breakwater lighthouse.
Maybe the finest reading spot in the entire universe...the bench seat at the Camden Library.
Pam, chasing another sunset on her paddle board.
Me, returning from a fishing adventure.
Ridiculous beauty...
Our Loon buddies.
Every morning, filled with possibilities...
Every evening, comfy cozy.
So...there you have it, three weeks on Quantabacook. Now, it’s time to pay the piper. I have not only foolishly spent money I shouldn’t have, I have foolishly forfeited three money making weeks relaxing in Maine. The eight ball now casts its shadow over me. My troubles are self inflicted. But, you know what? I don’t care. My checkbook will recover. It always does, eventually.
Foolishness is in the eye of the beholder.
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