Have you ever had a feeling about a destination before you’ve even arrived there? I’m talking about the utter certainty that you are going to love a particular city, town, or village even though you’ve never set foot in the place? Ever since I began studying French in the seventh grade, I knew I would adore Paris, and although a few decades passed before I was able to stand on Parisian soil, the experience of strolling through the city’s arrondissements lived up to everything I’d pictured and more. The same was true of my visits to Sweden, Prince Edward Island, Barcelona, and northern California.

My latest moment of confirmed adoration came during a three-day trip to Maine earlier this month. Okay, technically, it wasn’t my first visit, but given that the previous trip took place eleven Februarys ago, I knew my experience would be very different this time around. Back then, I spent the entire time sporting fleece, down, two pairs of socks and gloves, and a wicked case of hat hair, as I stood ankle-deep in snow at the National Tobaggan Championships in Camden (and that’s a story for another blog). Which is not to say it was disagreeable—those of you who know me know that I like the cold—but Maine in winter has little to do with what the state is like in June.

Here is the point in the blog post where I could bombard you with a bunch of verbiage about why I love the place, but for once in my wordy life, I’ll let the images do the talking. I’ve never claimed to be a great photographer, but like a stunning supermodel who has no bad side, Maine is a supremely forgiving subject…

Maine — where even the shipwreck sites are beautiful. (A new state slogan?)

Creative spellers…

Catching crustraceans…

Consuming crustaceans…

Portland Head Light

How you like them apples? (Portland Museum of Art)

View from my balcony at the beautiful Inn by the Sea

The walk to the beach

Sage advice (@ Vervacious, a great little Portland boutique that sells salts, vinegars & rubs)

No words are necessary…