What a glorious, heavenly, divine few days of sunrise walks to paint on the rocks, handfuls of wild blueberries, playing with two tiny tickle monsters who pronounce it “blueblerries”, sailboats, reading by the fire (in July), 1940s jazz, moon gazing through binoculars, open windows, creaky boardwalks, double rainbows (two days in a row), and long talks with good friends all on a very special little island in Maine where colors are brighter, flowers smell sweeter, and time travels a little differently. A place that leaves me so speechless, yet deserves nothing less than the run on of run on sentences;)
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