A Morning at Flye Point, Maine

Yesterday Papa and I attended the Flye Point Folk Festival on the grounds of the "Look-out", an old country inn in Brooklin, Maine.  Last night I posted an article about the festival and assured my readers we would be leaving for Massachusetts early in the morn.

With that in mind, I got up early at the "Flying Jib" and went out wandering once more.  

Though the "Jib" is just an uninsulated cottage, I love it.  It belongs to Herb and Buff Brigham, two old friends we met many years ago.  When we go to Flye, we usually stay here.  Papa and my bedroom is unofficially the bedroom on the right upstairs, "The Owl's Nest" as Buff calls it.  It overlooks the Inn and the ocean beyond. 

I  walk down through the yard and as I pass the pool my eyes take in the old fashion vessal and the horse carriage and I smile.

I  remember ten years...no eleven years in September that Buff and Herb asked if we couldn't come to Flye on a week-end...the barn had been partly destroyed in a hurricane and they feared for some of the antiques that were inside.

Aaron was in Maine visiting Phil Arnold, his best friend from high school, who was attending University of Maine at Orano.  Aaron said that both of them would meet us at the Jib.  You can see Aaron on the second floor (white hat)  handing down the buggy to Phil.

What an adventure they thought...permission to go in a "restricted building"! 

And so as I pass through the gate I have sweet memories to keep me company this morning on my walk. Rather then go straight to the Point, I veer right around the fence and head into the woods...several years ago Herb constructed this walkway through the forest to their own beach.

It's so quiet and serene as I walk.... 

Finally I reach the beach....no one is up yet...just Tuck and I have this wonder to ourselves.  We wal alongthe rocky shore and "The Hub" is in front of us.... 

Then I climb the rocks up the hill....a field of lupines to the left.....

They are absolutely georgeous.  I walk past the grassy area....the white tents from the festival look like ghosts in the wind....and then I pass the Boulders, a ramshackled cottage we used to rent when we had a houseful of kids....and a Grandma to boot!

It doesn't look like much...but it has four bedrooms, a livingroom and kitchen.... all that you need for a week in Maine.

I walk through the gardens at the Inn....and then past the Inn.  I pass the Flying Jib and walk up the hill for one last time...and look to the Point....

Flye Point in the morning is Maine at its best...at least to me!