Maine. Arrival at the end of Route 66

Maine – Space, Sea and a Sense of Home in the North

We’ve truly arrived.

In the largest and northernmost state of New England. In Stephen King territory, where many of his famous novels take place. In the land of lobster and lobster shacks – in Maine.

The landscape opens up. Forests, lakes, coastlines. Autumn colors stretch out like a thick blanket – rich, calm, deep. The light softens, the sky seems wider.

Typical Maine – where lobster tastes like the ocean.

Maine shows its scale – nature, colors, space.

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We come across small treasures

A lighthouse on the horizon. A faded boat shed. A lobster shack with steaming pots and paper towels instead of napkins.

Guardians of the coast – the Atlantic is always there.

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Then a stop at J&P’s Farm Market

Pumpkins in every size, shape and color. The scent of warm apple cider is in the air. The vendor recommends “cinnamon donuts – hot, fresh, irresistible.” She’s right.

Autumn in its most delicious form.

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Oakland – another kind of home

This is where our journey ends – but not the story.

Our daughter Tanja lives here with her family. The grandkids are grown now, off on their own paths. Shared time is rare – but the sense of closeness remains. And sometimes, it’s the small encounters that count.

Colby College – where education and family meet.

We stay for a while.

Time with family. Time that moves differently – slow, warm, rooted.

A farewell in orange – one last greeting from fall.

We’ve been here in every season – summer, fall, even winter.

And every time, Maine feels like coming home. There’s more to tell – and we will.

Because a part of our family lives here – and a part of us does too.

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🌊 Maine has stayed with us. Since then, we’ve gathered many more stories and photos – from the blaze of Indian Summer to the stillness of deep winter. Read the full story here: Maine. Between Indian Summer and Lobster Dreams