At the Lake House

View From the Lake House, oil on canvas, 12x16, sold.

I'm in Bridgton, Maine, at the moment, sitting in the laundromat, the one place in town with a wi-fi connection. Actually, a little cafe on Main Street has a connection, but it was closing to cater a dinner, and couldn't help me - but a nice woman in the cafe alerted me to the laundromat, and the women here said no problem - they didn't care that I didn't have dirty clothes!

I'm staying at the lake house owned by my aunt and uncle. Their house, a farmhouse built in 1863, sits in fields at the top of a big hill. The lake house is at the bottom, on Moose Pond. It's a lovely little cabin, with wood floors and wood ceilings, and a giant screened porch that overlooks a ferny slope which runs down to the lake.

At night, it's absolutely quiet there, except for the haunting calls of the loons. There are no traffic noises, no people noises, nothing. There's no television in the cabin, and there's not a phone, though my cell phone works from two places in the house, if there are no clouds.

It's a joy to have such a calm and serene place to stay. It's a little like heaven.