Reason # 856

I keep thinking of more and more reasons to live in Maine. Reason # 856 was added to the ever growing list today when Laurel, Samaya,Violet and I ventured like Old World explorers to Raven Hill Orchard, a two hundred year old farm about 45 minutes inland. The sun was winning its battle with the morning clouds. The last of the mist covered warriors faded into the apple trees as we parked on the grass. The ladies quickly took their bags and went on the hunt while I never left after spying a copper espresso machine in the hard times cafe. Stephen, the owner, made me some coffee  and told me all about how he ended up here by  following a lady to Maine and buying this farm. The dream ran away like the morning clouds although it took some years for that to happen--more like the dream stepped away one cross word--one look at a time. Faded newspaper accounts yellowing on the wooden walls spoke of happier times when love lived here--when people gathered here, when the cafe was thriving. I sipped my coffee (which I'm very adept at) and talked with organic families seeking bags for their organic fruit who came and went. The lost Stephen guided families to where they should go in the orchard while I picked up a jar of apple salsa and a homemade birthday card for Karen in a long abandoned rack. I resisted the flights of illusion that passed  by and refrained from cautioning the foreign tourists about teasing bears when they ate their mid day snacks from the trees. Stephen talked about the isolation of the farm when  there were no customers coming and going. I invited him to a gathering at friend's house next Saturday.  I thought about the impact of feeling alone in paradise-- somewhat like getting struck by a meteor listening to Don Maclean while watching Vincent paint the beyond beautiful "Starry,Starry Night."