Away Downeast

A week ago today we awoke in our motel room in Concord, NH, where we had spent a restless night following a farewell dinner with my mother and her spouse. As usual in motel rooms, we were wide awake by 4:00, looked at each other and said, "Let's roll!"
Which meant loading 4 violins, 3 guitars,  a banjo, a mandolin, an accordion, concertina, dog and effects into two cars. So we actually drove the Jeep and the Prius onto the ramp to Route 93 at about 5:15.
And so it was that we crossed the Piscataqua Bridge into Maine just after sunrise. And arrived at our new home in Steuben by late morning.

I was the vanguard. I was so early, in fact, that I couldn't help but stop on the way to bend the knee at my new "LYS" (local yarn shop), Shirley's Yarn and Crafts.

After meeting Shirley and her daughter Kiana, and admiring the stock, I headed onward.
Did I mention that my Prius was packed so tightly that the "open door" warning bell dinged and dinged and dinged all the way from Concord, NH to Steuben, ME? I checked every door at every stop, made sure the car was locked, but ding ding ding ding it went. I played music. Loudly.

Suddenly, I was home.

Oh yes, snow. But someone (it turned out to be the plumber) had shoveled the walkway and deck- bless him. I opened up the house, made some tea, walked around with Nellie, and sat in the sunshine to wait for Hunt, who arrived soon thereafter. We walked through the house together and looked out towards the deck, where we were greeted by the principal motivating reason for the move:

Dyer Harbor is a tiny inlet in Dyer Bay, which opens to the Atlantic. We were in search of salt water, and we found it.

Our friends with UHauls arrived somewhat later, stretched, took a deep breath, and immediately began unloading. They took a break for pizza and some singing,  and a bit of sleep. They continued the next morning and were off back to NH before noon.

Since then, we've been unpacking boxes, arranging and re-arranging furniture, exloring Steuben, Milbridge and the surrounding area. Hunt's nephew Race has been here doing the heavy lifting- bless him. Yesterday a neighbor invited me to tea to meet a third neighbor, and we are becoming friends already.

We are still waking up a bit disoriented in the night sometimes, and we haven't yet found shops with some "essentials", like local honey, or Bon Ami. Silly things that I miss! And yes, we miss our friends back in New Hampshire. But we are grateful for the opportunity to live in yet another place of beauty and tranquility.

Dispatches from the front: The Moving Chronicles.

We are surrounded by the Boxes. They are encroaching upon what little territory we still possess. Everything we own is disappearing into them. Soon we will be able to find little to call our own. Everything will have been consumed by the Boxes. But we have a cunning plan, sort of a Trojan Horse in reverse: tomorrow we bring in the Trucks, and our faithful allies will help fill the Trucks with the Boxes (and furniture). On Sunday we finish the job and make a final Broom Sweep of the property. On Monday, we depart like thieves in the, er, morning, for the coast of Maine. We shall prevail.