I love it when it rains at night and then clears up in the morning to sunny skies instead of lingering for days. I love how fast the leaves change color. I love listening to the foghorn and the single whistle of the Peaks Island ferry departing on its 15-minute run to Portland. I love walking in villages and in the countryside and along the ocean and listening to birdsongs we don't have at home. I love no traffic and people getting around on bicycles or golf carts or feet. I love the public library with its comfortable sights and sounds and its Internet access. I love leaving the door and the bicycles unlocked. I love lobster and the regional accents of Mainers.
I've reconfirmed for the umpteenth time that I need more social interaction than my husband Art does. When we're relaxing on vacation, having no garden or garage projects, he reads for hours. I read for a shorter time, then try to strike up a conversation. He continues to read. Plus, radio and TV are distractions he can't tune out. I have finally realized his silence has nothing to do with me, but with his personal preference for quiet downtime. Sometimes it feels like I'm getting the silent treatment, but that's an old childhood tape playing. As my sister reminded me last night, it's my issue. Art is just reading in silence.
So, I've learned I should never travel without my laptop, even if there's no Internet access. I could have written this week about the crew on the schooner, instead of next week when I'm back home. I could have played games to occupy myself. I could have brought along a few DVDs, and rented them, and watched them with headphones on. I could have brought an MP3 player and listed to the radio through those same headphones.
I've learned it's fun to use public transportation to get around, even on Sunday when it's limited. Renting a car for a day, or taking a taxi, feels like cheating and would be expensive to boot.
I've learned I still love Maine, but if I lived here for six months to a year I'd need to be in a place with more than two thousand people and I would need to buy some wool sweaters and some longjohns and some snow boots.
I'm thinking ahead to our Monday travel home: feet to ferry, ferry to dock, taxi or bus to bus station, bus to Logan airport, plane to Seattle. About 13 hours in transit, including wait times. I need to load up my Kindle with another book or two, make sure it and my cellphone are charged up. It's time to go home, and I'm ready. And that's a good thing.