My husband, my beautiful husband, took this photo last week. We were on a day trip to the coast of Maine. I had an appointment with a doctor and afterwards we just drove. We ended up in Kittery, ME., one bridge length across the open sea from Portsmouth, NH. It's an unexpected and incredible drive. The homes along the shoreline are breathtaking: perfect cottage or New England shake homes with perfectly manicured lawns and gardens and whatnot. On the one hand, there is the New England irreverence for anything perfect, for anything that smacks of being an impostor, a Hollywood version of the truth. On the other hand, the New England version of truth is just as beautiful. It's an awful beauty; a terrible beauty based on hardship, inclement weather, harsh climate and hard rock unsentimentality. I say "unsentimentality" which is not a word, but based on the New England way of looking at things, ought to be. These folk are tough, immovable, granite-like in their approach. They do not sentimentalize things, the past, present or future. They are in the here and now and it is what it is.