Tuesday September 4
I began the day walking to the town beach. I can imagine a routine that would include this morning stroll. When I returned, we had breakfast on the porch and watched a fishing boat make it’s way up the Sheepscot River.
On the itinerary for today was Boothbay Harbor. This visit disappoints. Having read a biography of Rachel Carson and articles about her time in Maine, I imagined a small understated New England town. Instead most stores fill their shelves with tourists’ merchandise. One of my friends commented on their playlist, 60’s pop to appeal to baby boomers.
Just like New Hope Pennsylvania, Boothbay Harbor sits along the water: New Hope along the Delaware, Boothbay Harbor on the Atlantic. Henry Miller, when he returned to the states from Europe as WWII took hold, wrote The Air Conditioned Nightmare, an account of his drive cross country east to west. He stopped in New Hope which he described in scathing terms. The town often described as a refuge for artists, seemed to him the home of non-artists. He recognized the beginnings of the tourist trap it would become.
After some grocery shopping, we returned home and once again, I walked to the beach. I watched cormorants perch along the rocks and talked to several people. As I looked into one of the tidal pools,
I imagined a perfect routine: a walk to the beach every morning, coffee on the deck, writing, chores in town, writing in the afternoon, another walk to the beach, then, back to the deck for drinks, dinner, and to bed with a book. Heaven.
Dinner was a group effort. We played music, drank gin and tonics, talked, laughed for hours, and watched the sun set on the Sheepscot.
Regardless of the amount of alcohol consumed, I was able to do some writing before hitting the sack.
Another bit of heaven, writing where she wrote.