Saturday, December 3, 2011

This is the view from a small bridge in Blue Hill, Maine. There are usually a ton of ducks paddling around here, very fun to watch. I love where I'm from. This was the view I had every time I strolled through town. If you look closely, you may be able to see a rock island out in the bay. That is the island that my grandmother and grandfather, mother and father, and my brother and I have all leaped into the Atlantic ocean from. That is something of a tradition in our family, and each time I go back to that rock, and stand in the place where the old diving board used to be, I'm instantly brought back to a time when nothing else mattered, except the rush of cool salt water splashing your face as you slipped beneath the waves.

 And this is what that tiny bridge looks like from the town boat wharf, on Thanksgiving morning. I love the way very little changes in this spot throughout the seasons. You can even see the ducks mulling about, searching for what tiny insects may have been unfortunate enough to get caught in the overnight frost. This will always be one of my most favorite places to stand and do nothing but look.

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