We set up camp in New Hampshire. It was middle ground for day trips North into Maine and South into Boston. I had seen several charming farmers markets out and about but hadn’t stopped yet (except for the little stand across from the entrance of our campsite selling fire wood and fresh tomatoes). On our first day-trip up the coast we passed one and had to stop.
We pulled into the rutty dirt parking lot and parked next to a small garden of cherry tomato plants. I looked for fresh peaches but hadn’t realized that while it was the perfect time out West, it was past peach time here. Everyone picked their own healthful snack from the small wooden shed. We payed the nice owner and pet his dog. We also eyed Dave’s choice: a Maine’s own, homemade, wild blueberry pie and a gallon of local vanilla ice cream.
We snacked on cucumbers and corn and tomatoes, but saved the pie for our picnic by the sea (Nubble Lighthouse) where the kids found crabs, explored over huge boulders and felt the fog roll in.
We visited more beacons and the thicker the fog became the more timeless the experience became as it clouded out everything else. We ended the day trip at Spring Point Ledge Lighthouse. Later we realized we were so close to Bug Light lighthouse that on a clear day it would have easily been seen from where we were. But, the taste of dense fog, the horn sounding from a huge cruise ship passing by that to us looked ghostly, and the pleased looks of satisfaction from jumping boys along the path of boulders and cracks enveloped us. The pie, the ocean, the awe had us all wanting seconds. We did go back for more, and are still begging for just one more bite.