Maine infected me at the age of 12, in Brunswick, on a family trip from Minnesota. The bug was more or less dormant until I moved to Boston in the late 70s, spread a little in flirtations with the mountains and lakes of New Hampshire and Vermont, and now, with the bemused tolerance of my wife Cynthia Dockrell, has set in without cure.
About Me
- Jim Krosschell
- Retired publishing executive ecstatic with the idea of spending most of his time on the coast of Maine
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Ordinary Life
There's a lovely spot on Calderwood Lane in Rockport called Vesper Hill Chapel, the site of a former mansioned estate, then fancy hotel (that burned), then simple open-air chapel and grounds that's popular for weddings. The chapel is rough-hewn, with picnic-table benches for the wedding party; the grounds are small and nicely landscaped, just enough space for a tent if it rains, and just enough flowering plants to show the gardener cares. It perches on a hill, is surrounded by trees, and overlooks the bay. The contrast with the huge houses on the shore could not be greater.
So I'm posting this picture from the chapel grounds. To me, admittedly swayed into lust for the great and beautiful white behemoths next to the water, with their guest houses and extensive gardens and docks long enough to berth ocean liners, the very simple is even more desirable. Or is useful in making sure that it continues to be so.
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