I have lived most of my entire life on the same street in Massachusetts.  It’s a nice street, with nice houses and families but I have always wanted to move to Maine. My house was close to the schools my children went attended.  It was an easy commute to my work.  We had great neighbors and gardens and chickens.  But I kept wishing to move to Maine.   In 2000 my husband and I looked for a place up there even came close a few times to buying but always found a way to procrastinate our dreams away.  But don’t feel too sorry for me because I have a “Fairy Godbrother”, he and his family have hosted us for many weekends and more.  They open their hearts, and doors, and bedrooms, and table to us every time we’ve asked.  Their hospitality is warm and loving.  What a treat to gather at their table and telling and listening to family stories!

This past week we had one such weekend, celebrating MM’s birthday.  The Grand Boys were on vacation and joined us.  His children and grandchildren were able to be there too.  That meant a table set for  15 after church on Sunday. What a blessing to be there with them all sharing stories and love!

Outside a massive trench was dug from the house to a sawmill.  They are piping electricity and water out to the mill and garden.  So after our dinner everyone was outside helping with the project. Of course digging in the dirt is like heaven to most 4-60 year old, men, boys and even the girls reveled in the dirt and mud.  After  lots of showers, a few loads of laundry and a good night sleep we headed home on Monday; with a head full of memories and  wondering when we can go back.