First Impressions: The List

Babies are called pumpkins here.  In the South we call babies cutie pies, dolls, little monkeys, sweat peas, tree frogs, butternuts, lulus etc., etc.  So far, since moving to Maine, Raindrop has always been called a pumpkin. :)

90 degrees qualifies as a "heat wave."  When most homes don't have air conditioners, 90 can feel pretty hot.  On the flip side, 50 can feel quite chilly to this Southern girl when I wake up in the morning with all that fresh air wafting in my window.

Raw milk is no big thing here.  Coming from a state where it's illegal to sell or purchase raw milk for human consumption, I was shocked to see you can just walk in and buy yourself some raw milk from any old grocery store.

There are three Farmers' Markets a week within 2 miles or so from where we live.  I could spend some serious money buying local yumminess.  That's why I have to go with only a little bit of cash on hand.

Can ice cream be considered a health food?  Just wondering because there is one ice cream stand or another every where we go...

The sun rises at 4:45-5:00 right now.  By 5:15 full-on day is coming in our windows.  This is something we've been working on adjusting to (read buying lots of curtain rods and covering up the beautiful windows.)

First Impressions

While driving into our little town for the first time, Songbird declared, "This looks just like Athens.  Maine is just like Athens...the same freeway, the same trees beside the freeway, the same Target and Home Depot.  Maine is just the same as Georgia." More than anything, I think Songbird was trying to reassure herself that this Maine, this new home, would be OK.

And it is the same in many ways.  The Target, Home Depot, Starbucks, and Goodwill are pretty much the same wherever you go (with a few regional differences).  The house is full of the same furniture and toys; the same blue swing is hanging from the tree out back.  There is just enough "sameness" to make things seem homey and soften the transition.

But it hasn't taken long for the differences to show themselves more clearly.  Our first trip to a local beach (second if you include our first week here when we wanted to show GranJan and Auntie Char-Char the beach but ended up getting there after 7:00 pm) was a bit rocky.  Thomas Point Beach is a cross between Sandy Creek in Athens and Rock City in Chattanooga.  There's a beach, but also a playground and fairy walk through the forest.  Since our ambition was swimming, we headed straight to the beach, only to attacked by the black flies.  Songbird was the most frustrated by it all because the water was a lot colder than expected and buzzing with crabs and other aquatic life, but exploring the shore was made difficult by the constant swarming flies. Although there is a lovely view of the river spilling into the ocean (or ocean spilling into the river - sometimes it's hard to tell which body of water is winning the battle), it was no time at all before the kids started turning purple and we called it quits and headed over to the playground (where the flies weren't nearly as bad).

The episode did not make us give up, but instead fueled our eagerness to find some nice local beaches.  Our second trip to Pine Point beach presented another great difference between Southern beach going and Northern beach going - we were beginning to realize that people don't actually go to the beach in Maine to go swimming.   They do wear their swimsuits and bring their towels, but they don't "swim."  There's a lot of wading, and even an occasional "dip," but swimming seems to be very rare.  In fact, most of the locals looked at Hubry like he was totally out of his mind when he ran and dove into the ocean to take a swim.  It was a very. short. swim.  They were even more shocked (and so was I) to see Songbird and Bro follow suit.  The water was so cold that the short swim necessitated drying off and cuddling up pretty much immediately.  We found out later that we hadn't made it to Pine Point beach afterall.  We had stopped about 1/2 mile short of the actual beach (which was cozily nestled on the other side of a jetty), and were playing instead at the local fishing co-op.


After our second trip we were more eager than ever to figure out this Northern beach thing.  We did a lot of research and decided to go back to Popham beach (the place we had tried to go but didn't arrive until after 7:00) and stay for at least 5 hours.  We brought a picnic, buckets for collecting shells, paints and paintbrushes, the stroller, ergo, baby bjorn, etc.  We were ready and committed to exploring and adventuring all afternoon and into the evening.  This time, instead of driving straight to the State Park, we decided to go past the park and explore the fortress which was about 1 mile up the road.  We were surprised that it was free to park and explore the ruins, and even more surprised that there was beach access directly adjacent.  This was the kind of beach I had pictured when I thought about the Maine coast.  Rocky inlets, little coves, lots of driftwood awash...and, the best thing of all was the the water was crystal clear where it gathered into sandy pools.



 

 They say that the third time is a charm, and that was definitely the case.  We felt like we had found a jewel, and some of the locals we met along the way called it a jewel too.  The water was still freezing (though Hubry and the kids still went for some short swims), but their were no flies around, the air was crisp, the horizon long and beautiful, and the light bright.  As soon as little Raindrop started showing signs of afternoon sleepiness, we got out the stroller and decided to walk along the shore to the State Park.  We had read that at 5:00 the tide would be just so that we'd be able to walk out to some of the nearby islands.  Pushing the stroller over the sand was quite the workout (even though it's an off-road BOB and even though we stayed close to the water), but it was totally worth it.  After about 30 - 45 minutes of walking, we finally made it to the Park, and indeed the ocean had receded just enough to carve out this little path to one of the small islands.  It felt so magical - especially since we had seen the beach before when all the land was covered with ocean.  It is truly amazing how the tide can change the beach.

We walked the mile back to the car on the road and enjoyed some ice cream at a nearby shop (along with half of the town).

The Long Journey North

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On Thursday, July 6th, with the help of our parents and dear friends, we loaded up the moving van -- pretty much all 26 feet of it -- and left our life in Athens and set out on the long journey North.  Since 6 hours was the longest trip to date our little family had taken, we decided to divide the journey into 5 unequal parts.  

The first day was a two hour trip to Augusta where the kids and I spent the afternoon playing with cousins (read bosom friends).

We left after breakfast on day 2 and headed 5 hours away to Raleigh, NC where we visited Hubry's childhood friends and my cousin and her family. It took some figuring out to learn how to travel together. Hubry was almost always in the truck, accompanied by either Charlotte or GranJan. The big truck was surprisingly easy to drive; I almost forgot the extra length until I ran a motorcyclist off the road. I had an old mix tape made for me by Robert Heiskell back when I moved to New Hampshire for the summer -- Innocence Mission, Norman Blake, Nancy Griffith, the Indigo Girls, Steve Earle -- as well as Steve Taylor's Squint, Rich Mullins' Winds of Heaven, Stuff of Earth, and old J.R. Caines sermons from East Ridge Pres.

Kelly, on the other hand, was _always_ with the children in the van. She was prepared. We bought a DVD player for the trip, and a selection of so-called "fidget" toys for the kids to play with, and we were given a bunch of other stickers and DVDs and CDs to help get them through. But it was still a lot of screaming, asking the same questions over and over again, and so on. So when I said that maybe we could drive home for Christmas, Kelly had a very different picture in her mind than I did. 

Day 3 we left by 7:30 and trekked all the way to Pennsylvania.  We got there in the early evening - around 5:00, and were welcomed into the countryside home of the parents of my dear friend from Chattanooga.  There were sheep bleating, flowers in full bloom, and every restful beauty imaginable.  Not to mention, my friend's father was quick to take Songbird under his wing and lead her from adventure to adventure, ending with a lengthy story time.  

The kids were pretty worn out by this point. After Bro carelessly slung a just-gathered egg onto the ground and earned a gentle reprimand, he sat on the ground with his pouty lips and said that he did not want to come inside; "I don't like those people," he said. "I want to be in Maine, RIGHT NOW."But Bro, I reasoned, do you really want to get back in the car for 10 more hours?

"Yes," he assured me. "I want to sleep in Maine."

Day 4 we left again by 7:30 and drove from Pennsylvania to Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  We planned the trip so that we'd hit New York on a Sunday morning, and aside from a few stressful moments, we made it to Portsmouth in better time that we'd anticipated.  This was the one hotel night of the trip, and thankfully we arrived to the city in plenty of time to hit the local brewery for delicious dinner and walk the gardens along the ocean front. Willy Wonka was on stage in the park by the bay, but the kids were more interested in running at top speeds around the grass and dancing by the fountain. You could just see their little bodies trying to break free of 22 hours in the car.

That night in the hotel we completely rearranged all the furniture, creating an impressive fortress of tables and couch cushions for Eliza to have her own "room" while we slept on the floor of the kitchenette. GranJan and Charlotte shared the big beds with Bro and Songbird, much to their delight. I mean to the _kids'_ delight. I'm sure GranJan and Charlotte would have enjoyed those big beds all to themselves just fine. The next morning, Charlotte, GranJan and Hubry hopped in the truck and headed up to Brunswick, where, through the wonders of facebook and the body of Christ, we had an extremely efficient and generous unloading crew, mostly folks from Christ the Redeemer Presbyterian in Portland, about 40 minutes away. It took two hours to unload, although of course we're still unpacking.

Meanwhile, Kelly was back frolicking in Portsmouth with the children, bidding the time until afternoon naps would hustle them back to the car, and road would lull them to sleep (excepting Kelly of course), only to awake finally in "Maine," and more specifically at home.  This was their first feel of the  ocean "up North" and their first fistfuls of rocky soil.

In the car during our last stretch of the trip, AKA hours 23 and 24, Songbird announced, "That's not too far!  Maine is really not that far from Georgia!"  Oh my, if only we adults had the same ability to forget lapses of time as our children did. :)

And we couldn't have possibly made the trip without our fearless helpers:

GranJan and Auntie Char-Char

This is where we lay our heads, where we beat our drums, where we ride our bikes and work the ground.  Already there have been many tears and much laughter.  Here's to a year of being UpRooted, yet fully grounded...