Join Maine Public, Maine Coast Heritage Trust, and your local land trust this month and celebrate the importance of Maine's natural wonders.
What place in Maine's great outdoors means something very special to you?
Send us a picture of your own hidden corner and a few words describing what it means to you.
Everyone who submits his or her "Hidden Corner of Maine" will be entered into a drawing to win A Day on the Coast with Maine Coast Heritage Trust. This is a unique opportunity for two people to join an MCHT land steward for a day out on the ocean visiting islands and seeing first-hand what it takes to keep our coast open and accessible to all.
We'll put your photo in a virtual picture frame and so you can share it with your friends. Additionally, we'll choose a few submissions to be recorded and heard on the air on Maine Public Radio and Maine Public Classical.
Send your "Hidden Corner of Maine" photo and essay to firstname.lastname@example.org by July 30. To join a summer field trip or to get inspired by some of the great work being done by our sponsoring partner, Maine Coast Heritage Trust, go to mcht.org. To find your local land trust, go to mltn.org.
HIDDEN CORNER GALLERY
See what hidden corners are out there as submitted by Maine Public's members, viewers and listeners.
My hidden (though not really in this case) corner of Maine is Scarborough Beach. My family and I live an Scarborough and visit Scarborough Beach often. It is where we go to relax, reconnect with nature, and refill our reserves of calm. We bring visitors and out-of-state family to the beach with us and everyone comments on how lovely it is. Scarborough Beach State Park was acquired by Land for Maine's Future to ensure future access to this resource in our community. I really appreciate the ability to visit the beach year round and the services provided during the summer. I am so grateful to groups that work to protect access to Maine's natural places. This is one of the things that makes Maine wonderful and enrich my life (for example just this past week I hiked Mount Katahdin (Friday), then visited Scarborough Beach and walked the Thorncrag Bird Sanctuary in Lewiston on Sunday).
The attached photo is of the beach access in the off season (no boardwalk) and just seeing it makes me take a deep breath and sigh.
This is my Hidden Corner in Maine. It is looking north on the west branch of the Cathance river, Bowdoinham Maine. The little hill is woodchuck island. We have put our land including this island into a conservation easement to keep this hidden corner as beautiful as it is now, forever.
My corner is a view of Seavey Island from the Kittery side of the Back Chanel of the Piscataqua River.
This little channel with its leisure and fishing boars, docks, pilings, and lobster trap markings is partially held by the curvilinear cove and framed by large, old conifers. Its serenity can be transformed into ferocious storms with hysteric tree limbs, and rocking clanging rigs. Its tides rise and fall on their eternal schedule and, from time to time, patiently tolerate the blast of fog horns. It inspired me to write the lines below:
The conifers dumb and strong
Hold tight the sea from winds' storm
Never changing course.
The photo was taken by my husband Joe Rehmeyer. Joe enjoyed walking along Lake St. George in Liberty, Maine. His walks mostly followed the road beside the southwest corner of the lake past Marshall Shores. Joe started his walks as exercise and as therapy for his clinical depression. Dismayed by all the trash along the road, he started carrying a bag to "pick up garbage." He soon became a local legend walking along Marshall Shores Road with his grabber in hand. He began taking photographs in 2013.
Joe learned that he had peritoneal mesothelioma cancer last summer. He continued walking and taking photographs throughout the fall and early winter, with his walks gradually becoming shorter through December. He used his walks and photographs to gauge his health and to mark the passage of time. It was a "good day" when he could walk down to see the lake. Joe died on January 18, 2018.
Lake St. George, and especially Marshall Shores, is my family's "Hidden Corner of Maine," from swimming on the 4th of July to ice-out in April to the searching for the loons' well being as we pass by. The lake's mood constantly changes and is always fascinating … and it will always serve as a joyful memory of Joe.
This is my cabin on Mudd Pond in Palermo. When I'm seeking solitude or just to get away, I come here. At dusk, the fireflies are prevalent with their constant flashing. I can hear the beaver slapping their tails, and occasionally Bambi wanders down for a drink. Yes, Maine the way life should be? The way life is.
Little Sebago Lake is my happy place in Maine. The water is clean and clear, warm and shimmering. The beautiful blue sky and clouds reflect off the water and the songs of the loons lull me to sleep every night...
Ruth and Dan Doughty
Nearly 40 years ago as a recently married couple, we crossed the Deer Isle Bridge onto the island for the first time. Little did we know how this gorgeous place and the wonderful people who occupy it would change our lives.
There is a small island on the east side of Deer Isle called Sunshine. This is where we found a home and the most beautiful spot in the state. We were immediately taken into the life of the community and soon were sharing Sunday dinners, boat rides, picnics and islands activities with our new friends.
Sadly, we eventually had to move from the island, but have returned nearly every summer for the last four decades and are always welcomed home. Our photo albums are full of pictures of our growing family and our summer visits to Sunshine. Our sons looked forward to our yearly visit to the island as they grew into young men and would often say that the summer was not complete without a trip to Sunshine.
Once our sons became engaged, their fiancees were introduced to Sunshine during those summer vacations and now our grandchildren join us there each year where they delight in this incredible place.
The sunrises are the most spectacular we have ever seen. The cloud formations that rise above the horizon are heavenly and make us feel a part of the landscape.
We love boating and paddling, swimming and beach combing. Yet there is nothing more peaceful than sitting and taking in the beauty of this little piece of heaven.
This is a photo taken at Eastport Breakwater just at sunrise as lobstermen start loading up heading out.
Great Wass Island Preserve
I am particularly fond of Winslow Park and the Harraseeket basin area of Casco Bay because it is near my home. From the shore I can watch as a gull hovers above the rocky shoreline. The shelled creature held in its beak makes a sharp, clear sound as it hits the ground. In a moment the sea bird swoops down to dine upon the contents of the cracked shell. I also can watch an osprey fold its wings and drop from the sky. It recovers from the free fall to scoop up a fish. If I launch my kayak I can discover the osprey's three-foot-high nest of sticks.
It's a short paddle to Lanes Island where I can watch horseshoe crabs go ashore to lay their eggs. Whenever I'm in my kayak I look for dark, round objects bobbing on the surface. If I am lucky and the water conditions are right I will catch a glimpse of one. When I see one I begin to sing, hoping my voice, so different from the deeper, loud noises of a boat's engine will attract them. Sometimes as I paddle closer, I laugh at my silliness especially when I realize as I near the object that instead of a harbor seal I have been serenading a buoy.
I am happiest at low tide because then rocky islets are exposed. These are the haul out areas for groups of seals. I try not to approach too closely as I do not wish to spook them. But some, probably the younger ones, nervously slide off their rocky islets into the water. They will surround me at a distance, rising up so I am able to see their whiskered faces and thick necks. We are both curious creatures. I float in my kayak; they bob on the water, disappear underneath, and resurface in a different spot. Slowly, they make their way back to the rocky perch they had recently vacated and I head back to the park.
The park and the water may be near my home in terms of mileage but the distance I travel when I go there is immeasurable. I always am transported and my spirit lifted.
Experiences like these are why I started the Women Mind the Water digital stories project. Women Mind the Water invites women and girls from across Maine to talk about their personal experiences with water. The project celebrates two of Maine's indispensable resources ? women and water. Whether it's a story like Nancy's about learning to swim in Wilson's Pond in Wayne or Dorothy's story about getting water from a brook behind her home in Marshfield, Women Mind the Water wants to share these stories. Why? Because life is inextricably entwined with water and because women have long been stewards of this most precious of Maine's natural resources. Stories offer everyone a chance to reflect on the importance of water. Stories are posted on a special Facebook page I created wmwdigitalstoriesproject and by the Maine Historical Society's Maine Memory Network.
Living on a Maine river is a gift that keeps on giving. My "hidden corner" is in my own back yard.
Fort Williams Park, Cape Elizabeth. There is always something going on there. The walking paths, the new indigenous gardens, the children's areas, Family Fun Day with orchestra and fireworks, little league, frisbee playing, dog walking, sledding, or just sitting and watching the activity from Portland out to sea. This morning, a lobster boat was just returning to port, followed by a cruise ship.
I'm a Maine transplant, from quite seriously, all over. A few years ago, after having decided for the last time to put down roots and just stay somewhere, I convinced my sweet parents to move to Maine too. It had been their dream to live on the water, and we had just emerged from a few really hard years as a family. They had earned a rest.
This hidden corner on Little Sebago has been our haven. Each year my three brothers and their families all come home from various states and countries, and we spend a whole week together, sharing meals, swimming, boating, chatting, and playing. It feels sweetly stolen, a truly happy break, and I spend the whole year looking forward to that one week.
My father has taken up a job as the safety boat driver and my mother found her sea-legs again sailing on her little white sailboat around the coves. We watch and listen for loons, point out gliding bald eagles and sunbathing turtles, and have a good laugh at my fiancé as he fails to catch yet another shiny small mouth bass. In the winter we traverse the hardened ice, count innumerable cold stars, and return home to stoke the coziest wood fire stove.
My parents have been married for 40 years this July, and have lived all over this beautiful globe, but moving to this little house on the lake, has truly meant coming home.
Each morning my military-trained dad wakes with the sun to raise the colors over his little slice of paradise, and snaps a photo for all of us to enjoy. In this way, no matter where we are, we are always together, marveling at our own little hidden Maine corner.
My hidden corner of Maine is a place nestled in the Kennebec valley where the lupines grow in groves. The wildflowers grow rapid and deer feed on wild strawberry’s daily. Overlooking barker pond in a cabin up on the hill my father and grandfather built and has been passed down. The beauty is simple and the raw landscape is something to be reckoned with.
I rent the same cabin in the spring and fall every year at Spencer Pond Camps. I had just returned from a hike in the late afternoon in the fall and put the rocking chair on the dock to relax and read for a while. I went back to the cabin to get my book when I turned around a saw this scene it begged for a photo! The mountain is Little Spencer which offers a very challenging hike through a chimney to get to the summit.
Blue Horizons is our quiet go to spot for our family to get away from the summer hustle and bustle of Bar Harbor. We spend hours skipping stones, exploring the aquatic life lining the shoreline and just enjoying the best that Maine has to offer thanks to the Maine Coast Heritage Trust.
About 12 miles out in the ocean sits a lovely rock named Monhegan. On it one can find peace and tranquility by walking the "Red Ribbon Trail" into a beautiful and enchanting forest. I long for the day I will return and bask in its sacred wonder.
My Hidden Corner of Maine is Monhegan, well known as The Artists' Island, but perhaps less visited by locals than some other Maine islands. Even though I am "from away," my connection to the island goes back to 1925 when my great-aunt build a cottage there. My sister, several cousins and I worked summers on the island over a number of years. I eventually made Maine my year round home. My husband took these photos of me in 1980. We were married on the island that summer, and have lived in Spruce Head since then.
When my friend, who teaches yoga, recently suggested recalling or imagining a calming image for an exercise of Compassionate Breath (as an antidote to too much distressing political news) this was the first image that came to mind.
The natural "chair" is hidden in the trailing yew, not far off a path at the southern end of the island. It was a great place to read in the early fall, when there were not so many people on the island to discover the spot, and it is my special Hidden Corner of Maine.
This photo was taken from the Boot Head trail in Lubec, as a storm passed by far out to sea.
The coast from Lubec to Cutler is beyond words and always spectacular. It makes me feel so privileged
To have this as my backyard. Trescott Twp., Maine.
Barbara Joy Hare
It was almost 50 years ago that we traveled to the coast of Maine from Connecticut for a camping vacation at Small Point. We backpacked our three month young son and hiked the Morse mountain trail that leads to Popham beach, the most beautiful coastal area I had ever seen! The view from the trail of miles of luscious light-colored sand flats and striking summer-blue water with white-laced waves took my breath away!
It still does. In the 50 years that have followed, I have lived in various places along the Maine coast that have captured my heart as a hiker, kayaker, artist, poet and therapist. Now ironically, I have come full circle to live in Bath, Maine overlooking the Kennebec River that flows eventually to this beautiful Popham Beach Area. It is just as beautiful 50 years later. I cherish walking on this beach for miles, two or three times a week. The landscape changes slightly every year and sometimes every week with the changing tides. My poetry, artwork and meditational walks are richly inspired. It is a treasured piece of Maine’s natural world that I would be lost without! It is difficult to express my gratitude for the gift of this area and everything and everyone that helps to preserve it for years and generations to come.
Kelly's Cove in Northport is my Hidden Corner of Maine, especially in the early morning before sunrise when the dawn chorus of bird calls is in high gear and the light slowly changes. Thanks to the kindness of neighbors, I can walk with our dog from the house across dewy grass straight down to the shore in 8-10 minutes to see loons, cormorants, occasional American pipets, Great Herons, and where "peace comes dropping slow."
This is my hidden corner of Maine in Cape Porpoise which I am fortunate to call home. This is a little fishing village in southern Maine where local fisherman wake up early to take their boats out for the day’s catch. Many of us who live and work here enjoy the sense of community and friendship in this special place.
Thank you for the opportunity to show a bit of my lovely corner of Maine.
Do a low pass first. Check for rocks, make sure there aren't any boats that you didn't see from higher up. Count seconds as you go past, make sure it’s long enough to land and take off again when it's time.
Touch down on the mirror-glass reflection of sky, ease the throttle back, glide for shore. Push the floats gently into to the give of bay and blueberry bushes at the edge. Tie off, set up the tent before it gets too dark. Build a fire, cook dinner and watch the stars as the loons break the silence in the quietest, place you could possibly imagine.
There are hundreds of these small lakes in our state, each full of memories — those past and those yet to come.
Birch Point State Park in Owl's Head.
This photo was taken on March 17 when my husband and I were spending the weekend in nearby Rockland.
The only other foot prints on the beach when we were there were horsetracks.
Maine in winter, gorgeous.
Where the River Meets the Bay
I once had a delightful life and a successful career as a musician, in Honolulu, Hawaii. It lasted for over 40 years but I now live where the Penobscot River and the Penobscot Bay converge.
On the east side of Stockton Springs, Maine is a spit of land known as Cape Jellison. It is home to Fort Point State Park, as well as home to my wife and me. Along the coastline of the park is, a lighthouse! However, it's not necessarily the lighthouse that strikes my fancy; it is the mile-and-a-quarter walk from my house to said lighthouse. That is the true blessing.
I like lighthouses...don’t get me wrong. But as a wise person once wrote, "Life is a journey and not a destination." It's the journey down Lighthouse Road that is truly a tonic for my soul. As I stop and look, I can see across the river from West Pennobscot to West Castine. On a clear day, if I cast my eyes farther to the right and look southwest, I see the island of Islesboro, some six miles or so across the bay.
Occasionally, I am fortunate enough to see a handsome schooner with billowed sails moving from the bay to the river. From Lighthouse Road I have seen two eagles soaring above the cape performing what appeared to be an airborne mating dance. I have encounter fellow walkers along this road. We don’t waste precious walking time with a bunch of yakin'. A nod of the head and a cordial, "How ya doin'?" usually works just fine for both of us.
As I wander down to the beach within the park, I can look up the river to the northeast about five miles and see the Verona Narrows Bridge. It’s the tallest person made structure in Maine and is tastefully designed to quietly complement the natural beauty of this hidden corner of Maine.
True Confession: I am one of those "snow birds" who packs up and skedaddles to warm weather ahead of the first snowfall in October. When I sheepishly tell my hardy neighbors here on Cape Jellison that I'm going back to Hawaii for the winter, they playfully chide me with something like, "Lucky you. You’re returning to Paradise."
"No," I tell them, "I’m leaving Paradise but I will return."
And I always do return to where the river meets the bay. Now that’s Paradise.
A little corner of Maine I’d like to highlight is Bates-Morse Mountain Conservation Area and Seawall Beach in Phippsburg, a privately owned beach and conservation area that is open for public use, with caveats. 1) Visitors must hike two miles to the beach (my favorite part, since this automatically eliminates over-crowding and over-use); 2) Visitors are not permitted to bring pets or common beach items such as umbrellas, beach balls, toys, etc.; 3) Visitors are not permitted to have fires or camp overnight; 4) Once the small parking lot is full, no one else is allowed past the gate until a vehicle vacates the lot (of course, you can hike up sans car if you so choose, but you can’t park along Route 216 or anywhere along the Morse Mountain Road); 5) No amenities are provided (i.e. snack booth, restrooms, picnic areas).
The restrictions and two-mile walk are well worth it. Hikers walk to the marshland conservation area where seabirds may be spotted, through coastal coniferous forest, up to the viewpoint of Morse Mountain overlooking the Sprague River and its outlet. What awaits is a clean, quiet and pristine seascape that feels like it's only for you, especially in winter. The first time I went, it was the Summer Equinox and I was eaten alive by bugs, until I got to the safety of the ocean’s breeze. I hiked in, selected a spot, and read my book for a while, enjoying the bright, warm day. The next few times, I went in winter and it was even more magical. Not a soul in sight, mild weather and colors that absolutely popped in the crisp winter light. This photo was shot in January.
Seawall is a treat. One that should be respected, preserved and enjoyed. I have shared with close friends how Seawall is a must visit and it is a wonderful place for people who want to get away from the crowds of common beach tourists, enjoy a nature walk, and revel in the beauty that is the Maine coast. I'm sure mine will not be the only essay highlighting Seawall and all it has to offer. A hidden treasure it is no longer, but to be shared with those who will appreciate it.
My favorite "Hidden Corner of Maine" is Quoddy Head State Park out by Lubec. I first visited Quoddy Head on my honeymoon in 2009. My husband and I had just moved back to Pennsylvania from Arkansas and gotten married within a two week period. We knew it was going to be stressful and hectic so we planned a honeymoon with the goal of being where people weren’t. I had always wanted to visit Maine, so when we found the little remote town of Lubec we knew that was where we would go. We now live in Maine and have gone back to Quoddy Head for many of our subsequent anniversaries and we are now looking forward to taking our daughter there and sharing it with her.
Quoddy Head is such a magical place. The woods there are so thick – it’s the kind of "deep, dark" woods from fairytales. The fog and shade feed a beautiful, thick layer of moss under the trees, there are cliffs and little hidden rocky beaches. It’s just so peaceful. When it’s clear you can look across the shining blue water and see Grand Manan and when the fog rolls in it’s like you’re the only person in the world, just you and the water and the trees and rocks. It’s not only my little "Hidden Corner" of the state, it’s my favorite place in the world.
So, was stacking wood for fall here in Bridgton and this outlier appeared. He stared and told me told me "hold off for awhile. This is my spot in the sun!"
So I did.
Maybe not hidden so much as often commercialized, and so overlooked for its beauty. I run along Long Sands Beach, often in the very early morning, and see the most beautiful sights.
Here's my kids looking for the woodchuck family in our hidden corner of Maine in Newcastle.
Center Pond, Lincoln Maine...my hidden corner of Maine is where I grew up. Being on this pond is a chance to unwind from the work week and to spend time with family and friends.
To choose only one hidden corner would be difficult, so I decided to choose the one that has harbored in my heart for this summer of 2018. My hidden corner of Maine this summer is Cobscook Bay State Park in Dennysville. Upon running a road race in the area, in June, with my younger brother, we decided to explore this state park. We discovered a spruce-tipped and bird-filled hiking trail, which upon a short ascent, led us to a viewpoint boasting turquoise waters lined with green trees along the shore in the ravine-like feature below us. When we completed the hike, we decided to venture to the community picnic area where we were again greeted with a beautiful view, but this time of the bay. We tried to clomp through the mudflats to get closer to the ocean water until we decided that the mud had more power over us. The view was like breathing in clean, refreshing, and rejuvenating air. After making small talk with the few people that were also enjoying this spot, we said goodbye with the utmost content.
I noticed in your wonderful gallery that almost all of the photos included water and mine is no exception. Although I now live in York near the ocean, I grew up in Old Town on the Stillwater River and my family has a camp on Big Lake in Washington County, so Maine waters run in my blood. My father built our family camp in the 1960s and we, his grown children, still treasure visiting every year. Last month, my dad passed away after many years of ill health in which he wasn't able to visit this peaceful place. So, going there last week with my mom and family was even more special. There's something about looking out at Stone Island, hearing the water lapping against the beach (and maybe catching the call of a distant loon) and feeling the gentle breeze off the water that clears away any stress. The little boat you see out there contains my two sons, learning to fish with my brother, their uncle. They caught enough fish for a wonderful fish chowder the next day. And the Maine cycle continues.
From Southern Maine's soft, sandy beaches, up our rough, rugged shoreline to the Bold Coast, over to The County's farms and pastures; from Katahdin and down the interior through Western Maine's Appalachian Mountains, it is near to impossible a choice of a favorite corner of Maine. Although, I do love this little gem. A small, hard scrabble town with a dramatic history. The home of Fly Rod Crosby, and spring/fall residence of Norman Mailer. The location of one of the largest glacial erratics in New England. Few know this town except skiers in the winter, who don't blink on their way up Rte 4, treasure hunters looking for an unusual antique and of course, Narrow Guage Railway enthusiasts. With natural attractions galore and a persevering attitude, I am proud to be, however small, a part of this community.
Long Pond is a part of Ferry Beach State Park in Saco. While the beach itself is lovely and popular with local residents as well as day camps in the summer months, the pond is enough off the beaten track to provide a setting for quiet mediation. In the spring and fall, it is especially peaceful, and as the picture demonstrates, quite colorful also. I find I can look for long stretches not only at the trees, but their reflection in the water, disturbed only by ripples of frogs and insects.
For the past two decades we have been fortunate to live on the bluff overlooking the much improved Androscoggin River in East Livermore, ME. (great for paddling). We are also fortunate to be on the crossroads of the Kennebec Land Trust (preserves) and the Androscoggin Land Trust (preserves). Every day and every season offers a multitude of wild flora and fauna species and changing sunsets.
My hidden corner of Maine is the Allagash. This is a photo of my dad, who was born in Allagash, fishing on the St. John River with my daughter, Abby. The Allagash and the St. John River feed my soul and have been a constant in my life. I grew up swimming and fishing in this river, I was baptized in this river, and driving from Fort Kent to Allagash along this river is one of my favorite things to do. This spot on the river is my hidden corner of Maine.
My corner of Maine is Sand Beach, Deer Isle, which is not so hidden. As of last year, there is an actual parking lot and there are generally one to six cars. The day my grandson was digging there, another grandmother was setting up a volleyball net for her granddaughter's sixth birthday. I love that my island community of Deer Isle shares and appreciates this treasure of a place.
Sea smoke — one of my favorite parts of winter in Maine.
A 'hidden corner' of Maine that's in full view from Canada is the little town of Calais, on the border with New Brunswick's St. Stephen!
This town, with its red-bricked buildings facing the St. Croix river is what we residents of St. Stephen look across at every day, and visit on a regular basis for shopping, to visit the theatre, or just to fill up with cheaper gas! The two towns have a close bond, have a joint festival in summer, and even share their emergency fire and ambulance services. This photo was taken at sunset in May.
Kanoeing on the Kennebec!
I recently found my hidden corner of Maine on a canoe trip from Waterville to Augusta on the Kennebec River. My friend, Dale Peabody and I had wanted to do this trip for a while and so we picked a date last Winter and we set out on June 23rd! It was incredible. It felt like 17 miles of Maine wilderness while all the while Routes 202 and 104 flanked the river on each side of us and are fairly densely populated. Both Dale and I are engineers and had been Bridge Designers so seeing the two large bridges that bookend the trip (Donald Carter in Winslow/Waterville and the Third Bridge in Augusta) up close wasn’t as much of a deal to us as it would have been for other adventurers, but coming across the view in this picture was a great surprise! It was a beautiful spot just downstream from Sidney. I had no idea that these structures were on the river and was very surprised at the size of them as others I had seen below Augusta were only half as big. We figured these must have been there for more than one hundred years! What was really impressive with this spot was how they looked like a lost fleet of ships. If you look very closely, you can see Dale taking his place among the other "Ships of the Line!"
I used to amble along the springy, fir-blanketed paths, following my mother like the faithful duckling I was. The trails were a portal, away from the stuffiness of life and into a world of crashing sea, salty air, and gnarled shoreline trees. I learned young how to keep my balance on rocky shores, how to avoid the slippery spots of algae at the water’s edge. I developed a zealous tolerance for the biting cold water that ached my bones. We giggled together and skipped stones.
No boats rumbled by there. No highway noise. We were the only crowd, my mother and I. Sometimes, a seal might pop its head above the water and watch us, but save for seals and a few sea gulls, it was gloriously lonesome.
I still go there, at least once each year. Sometimes with my mother. Sometimes with my husband. I hope one day, with my own children. There is a place at the back of the island where the pink granite cliffs fall to the sea and all there is between you and the far horizon are crashing waves and wheeling seabirds. I stand there, near the edge, and I can imagine my ancestors, sailing up the coast to that place long ago, before electricity or combustion engines or Verizon wireless. I can be with them in that moment, and feel the dividing years fall away and crash around my ankles.
Great Wass embraces me with an eerie, empty, lonely beauty. A stark, exhilarating vividness. With memories and a sense of home. It is a place out of time.
I'm a new Mainer, and I live a few minutes drive from Mackworth Island. It was the first nature spot I visited when I first moved to Maine this past January. The grounds were covered ankle deep in snow and there were barely anyone else there, it was like finding my own magical spot. Coming back to Mackworth in the summer is a different kind of magic. Being able to see this place transform from a frozen, hushed hidden spot to a lush and lively place is such a privilege for someone who grew up and live in big cities, away from nature. In the short time I've spent here, this place is starting to feel like home.