salt in the air again

I told Walker a month ago I wouldn't know what to do with myself once we were more settled. What would I do if I wasn't traveling in a few weeks, or anticipating the next flight on our endless roll? Right now, we have zero flights in the hopper. We've been in New York 3 weeks, and you know what? Being in one place has been calming and good and I didn't want to leave. But, here I am, surrounded by lobster, warm sand, and cold air on a brief trip to my family's summer spot. Every year growing up, the windows slid down on the bridge into Maine and we all rated the air on its saltiness. Although I have some city posts simmering away, I'm anxious to send you some of that salty air and those tall pines, a spot of refreshment in the midst of the new life unrolling like new carpet over our little Scotland blog.

Portland's fish docks smell sea-old and fishy, but the lobster rolls taste sweet with not a hint of their murky place of birth.

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Happy days.

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The sound of the sea is in me. My mom was born in this town, and we enjoyed a day on the longest sand beach in Maine chatting with the aunts and uncles, laughing and trying to read the messages flown over the beach.

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The seagrass lining the beach hides the sea from view as you approach. I think of it when I think of Maine.

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Our toes nearly froze themselves off in the icy water. There's a thrill in that first shock of cold, but then the cool layer becomes the perfect compliment to the sun.

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As the Mainers would say, So he-ah we ah. So here we are breathing, slowing down.

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Coming back is always sweet and good.