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
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Maiden Cliff
The white cross appears to be religious but is actually a memorial to a young girl who fell off the cliff in 1862. I expect the cross was erected as much for the spiritual marvel of the views as for the salvation of a soul. Thoughts of heaven pale in comparison with the beauty of the earth. We can see the rest of the Camden Hills, the peculiar little islands of Lake Megunticook, the million dollar houses on its shores, even the ocean and the peninsula of Owls Head, all available after only a mile's climb. No wonder the town keeps repairing and replacing the cross for all these years. It draws tourists much better than neon.
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1 comment:
Hi Jim - love your blog!
Joanne
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