Maine, Again

Our visit to Maine continued with a trip to Colonial Pemaquid. Father and mother spied some fellow funny-clothes-wearers, one man in native dress and one in French, and had a long, boring conversation about history with them. Then we wandered around the grounds and took in the view.

Fog. And lobster traps.

 

Two handsome sights.


Pemaquid Harbor, Maine, is one of the earliest sites of European occupation in North America, used as a seasonal fishing station as early as the 1610s. It then changed hands from French to British a few times and features a reproduction of the third and last fort to stand there, Fort William Henry. 


Fort William Henry. Well, a reproduction.



To go where no paw has gone before.

  

I was not allowed in to see this, but it appears to be a bunch of old pipes.
Where are the old dog toys? That is my question.

My parents' picture-taking stamina seems to have run out for the next few days we stayed in Maine, but among our adventures was a trip to the farm camp the children attended (farm camp? I grew up on a farm. I should start one of those), several beach and woods hikes, a trip to a lighthouse, a dinner party, a lobster boil, and the hunting of many chipmunks. Oh yes--the squirrel's smaller, stripier, wilier cousin. It was a fine time. 



Ride home.

 My parents are due home in a few days, and you may be wondering what has become of me in their absence. I have spent several wonderful days with my friend Cayda, my enemies Snowball and Speedy, and my grandparents in Great Falls; I then went to my Oma's house and am currently the blissful recipient of a shower of delicious treats. It hasn't been such a bad week after all.