For the Love of Lobsters

When we first announced that we were moving to New England (and yes, we announced it ... kept it completely quiet so as to avoid all of our friends' and family's opinions on the matter ... just wanted our own uncolored decision to shine through) people repeatedly said, "Oh, you'll love Maine." "You seem like Mainers." "Maine is so beautiful." Maine, Maine, Maine.

So, we left our crazy existence in Colorado and moved and settled (figuratively speaking) into our little house and new town (not in Maine ... gasp).  Our first weekend in the area we took the short drive up to Maine. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, MAINE. It is lovely, and sweet, and clean, and cute, and charming, and seaside chic, and for heaven's sake ... the love of lobsters is really something to witness. From that day forward, we spent every Sunday soaking up the culture and richness of Portsmouth, NH and the slow, seaside way of Maine just over the bridge.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="275" caption="portsmouth tugboats"][/caption]



[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="259" caption="bridge from portsmouth to home"][/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="194" caption="♥our church♥"][/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="259" caption="our home town perfectly captured"][/caption]

We are only four short days from calling Maine home. I cannot imagine a more quintessential spot to raise our children, home school, and live simply and sweetly.

Thirteen years of marriage and thirteen moves later we can finally say that we have found our home.