It's fitting that we have a foot of crunchy snow outside the doorstop as I look at these lush images of our July trip to Maine: when else is better for nostalgia, built for that half-hooded sunshine and salty sprawl of a backyard?
I'll share photographs from this trip in the last few days of break, look at these creatures we found, recall the briefest of time we had together on the shore.
On this second day, Maya and I held back on the rocky edge and tidepool'ed, something I adore doing, and something I see my own wee one feels exactly the same about. We could spend hours down there, searching for little live crabs, for the snails stuck fast to the rock walls.
I also love the slip and pop of this bulbous seaweed, something so strange and unrecognizable to my Minnesota-drenched eyes.
While this pocket of the Midwest is deeply home to me now, I do express an absolute fascination and love for this landscape: the gray fog, the deep greens and washed-out blues. My maker's palate adores this place, and the latent biologist within could just sit and watch and watch, and I love that while I do, I'll have my little girl by my side.
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