Yesterday I was reminded that I do not visit Vermont as often as I should(/need). A day is never enough, especially when the sun is shining and everything is green. And while I am happy here on the Maine seacoast (this certainly feels like home), there is nothing quite like the Densmore homestead.
A number of these shots are Timothy’s.
The above photograph is from my 2002 high school photography class. The exterior of the barn has lost some paint since then, for sure, and it seems my father is forever patching the roof. When he was young, the top floor was home to chickens. Some of the nesting boxes and metal feeders still remained when I was little, though I haven’t ventured to the upper levels in many years. This barn is such a huge part of my childhood landscape. It’s impossible to imagine it not occupying that space.
Before we left, I shared with my niece (who, by the way, is one of the coolest small people I know) that this little copse of birch trees is one of my favorite places. There is magic there. It is the place I will always return to.
See you again soon, Achenmead West.
Thanks for stopping by. My name is Naomi, and this space is made of girldust. This blog is a picture of my comfortably scattered life on the coast of Maine. I'm trying to be a slightly better version of myself every day. I like old houses, reading, the ocean, ghost stories, and museums. You can learn a little bit more about me here. Follow along elsewhere, or get in touch: