From the Maine Woods

For the last week and a half, Douglas and I have been on vacation. We decided to try not to curse, hoping that we’d curse less when we return home. Instead of quitting suddenly – rarely successful – I decided that we could curse as much as we wanted as long as we curse like barnyard animals. There’s been quite a bit of squawking and grunting in the car, along the trails and in the cabin. But I’ll tell you, you can’t stay upset for long when you grunt in disgust, squawk in frustration or crow in anger.

Douglas and I are in the Belgrade Lakes region of Maine staying in a cabin on Long Lake. We’ve sat around the cabin reading and playing games on the grey, rainy days. We’ve lit candles and stared out the windows from the main floor and the loft.  There are loons on the lake that call out. The sun sets slowly so we get quite a show of shade and color. And there are books. I brought along a book to read, but there is a certain allure of other people’s books that I can’t resist. On the fairer days, we’ve been canoeing and hiking.

The view from our cabin window.

We took a four-day meandering road trip to get here from Silver Spring. We stopped at Robert Frost’s home, which is now a museum with hiking trails around it which we walked. We hiked to Dingman and Silver Thread Falls while in Pennsylvania and Ripley Falls  (on the Appalacian Trail) while passing through New Hampshire.

Douglas and I in front of Ripley Falls

We were warned about the ticks. We took precautions. We wore sleeves, pants, sprayed ourselves with diethyl-meta-toluamide (deet), and we wore hats because we were told that the ticks drop from the trees. Drop from the trees? What the snort?

So we walked and walked. Douglas usually led the way down the narrow trails, braving the cobwebs and spelunking gnats (always intent on entering his ears and nostrils) and thereby clearing the way for me. Later, that night when I was about to step into the shower, I instead ran out to Douglas. I was pointing to a tick that had penetrated deet, jeans and more deet. It had embedded itself waaaay too near the swimsuit region. After he realized I wasn’t being amorous, he jumped to help me and successfully removed it. Thank God for tweezers.

Fast forward a few days and we’re hiking in the Belgrade area. Same precautions. A thorough check afterwards produced no stowaways, but I had to take a sleeping tablet to fall asleep that night – I kept feeling things.

Next day, I walked into town on the road. Douglas met up with me later. We were sitting outside a bakery and he was enjoying a slice of pie when I, playing with my hair, felt something. I again pointed, and yes it was another tick. Baaaaaahhh! I happen to have the tweezers in my purse and he pulled the trespasser out – it was not embedded. After that, we started discussing the possibility of my wearing a tick collar. Gee, I thought, I hope they still make the pink ones with the rhinestones. Then we have fun imagining him buying one for me.

“How large is your dog, sir?”  

“It’s not for my dog, it’s for my wife.”

We considered that I could wear it as a headband. I’m seriously considering this. In the meantime, we'll just have to go home and play gorilla while he works his way through my thick head of hair looking for interlopers. 

The cabin we're staying in.

The authoress relaxing  by a covered bridge near The Robert Frost House . . .

. . . and her handsome husband.