Crisp & Delicious on the Maine coast

You know that feeling when you drive by a house and your brain reflexively mutters to itself, "Ooh, that's a nice place"?

Every single time I drive by this spectacular property in Maine that's what happens. In the course of a two week vacation I'll drive by several dozen times. And every time, sweet little alarm bells go off. Invariably, my foot will lift off the gas pedal and hover over the brake. If I'm alone, and the light is particularly sweet, I'll pull the car to the side of the road where there's a generous gravel shoulder (and even a bench). How convenient.

I'll get out, breathe deep the dense ocean air, and marvel at the impeccable-ness of it all. For years I’ve been trying to put my finger on what makes this place so staggeringly beautiful. It’s not particularly fancy. The architecture isn’t especially unique. There’s no bravado, zero look-at-how-wicked-my-house-is pretension. And yet, it pulses with subtle, swoony drama. Maybe it’s the perfection of the paint job. Both the barn and house are always pristine white (not a small commitment when you have a zillion multi-mullioned windows). Maybe it’s the long view that gently stretches across a tidal river to the ocean. Or the meandering stone wall. Those sheep, yes, it must be the sheep, seemingly dropped into the landscape to provide a hint of movement.

I don’t know. And I suppose it doesn’t really matter. It just is and it’s just superb. Ask anyone who’s driven the stretch of road between Cape Porpoise and Goose Rocks Beach and they’ll tell you the same thing—it’s hard not to stop and it’s impossible not to slow down.

Never in two decades of drive-bys have I seen anyone outside the house. A car is usually there (white, of course), but no people. I imagine them sitting in one of the windows (just far back enough so as not to be seen), drinking tea and smiling at the conviviality of their creation. One of these days I’ll knock on the door and say, “Thanks”. Until then, I’ll keep taking pictures.