In which the protagonists love what they labor at, interrupt love for labor, find love through labor, or, in the case of the last one, kidnap a sexist, egotistical boss and suspend him from the ceiling of his own country house.
The human capacity for wonder is undiminished for those who choose to reach for it.
You won’t find these unmistakable landmarks anywhere else. And I miss them.
On my first trip to Maine, a Patty Griffin song teaches me the pronunciation of “Bangor” and the value of early experiences.