Sunrise over the Penobscot Bay, Bayside, Maine

Sunrise in Maine

My great-great-grandmother was a gypsy, traveling around Germany selling pots and pans out of the back of her family’s donkey cart. When a fair-haired German farmer saw this dark-eyed beauty at the town marketplace he said, “Die will ich!” That one, I want. While this was long before Hitler put Gypsys on the extermination list, in the 1800s they were still frowned upon as beggars and thieves. So the priest who married my great-great-grandmother changed one letter of her last name on the marriage records—turning a Gypsy spelling into a German one—the stroke of his pen effectively erasing all evidence her dangerous heritage.

But with my dark eyes and wanderlust, that heritage is alive and well in me.

“I am never moving again.” I’ve said this to Ethan several times in the past. “You couldn’t pay me to move.”

Then, after we’ve been settled for six months, say, I get restless. Luckily he does too, always up for an adventure.

Hen clamming on the Penobscot Bay, Maine

Clamming on the Penobscot

The next adventure in our gypsy lives is Maine.

“I want to live in snow,” Griffin said last year, which got us thinking about it. Apparently, the Gypsy gene is a strong one.

“I’m going to put snowballs in the freezer,” Ado said. “Then I’ll take them out in July and we’ll have a snowball fight.” I informed him that this will be more like a snow globe fight and to please not include me in his summertime plan.

Santa Claus and a white Christmas--doesn't get any better!

Christmas in July?

The point is: we know Maine gets cold. Really, really cold, with Nor’easters blowing in epic blizzards and ice-storms with branch breaking, electricity-frying winds. Yee-haw. The Gypsy in me can’t help but find this romantic.

We have a generator. We have a 1880-era stone fireplace and a boiler heater that is the size of a compact car. What could possibly go wrong?

Lots, I’m sure. But we have family and friends there–true Mainers who will dig us out or air drop food or simply hang out and play cribbage or dominos on a dark winter evening.

The way I look at it, we are not starting over, but just starting fresh.

Maine, here we come, but first… a quick stop in Charleston, South Carolina!  Stay tuned. 

xo, Suzanne

Apple pie made in Maine

M is for Maine!