I think I can confirm Deer Isle, Maine as one of my favorite places to visit.
Let me preface with some background about our family. We are active. We do not sit very long. Our children mountain bike and kayak. We are fine sitting in front of an ocean for hours. But not just sitting. So Maine, well, it’s a perfect thing for us.
Deer Isle is a quiet little island located about an hour and fifteen minutes (south)west of Acadia National Park. It was once known for farming and now, it’s a well-known arts and fishing community. So in addition to being a quiet place – nothing is really open after 7 PM, it is a farmhouse mecca .
And yes, I was having a field day with my camera in this environment. There is a distinct difference between a Maine farmhouse and a Pennsylvania one. The huge difference is the connection of the barn to the house itself – we were informed this was to accommodate for the harsh Maine winters. But then there is trim around the windows that is clearly Maine farmhouse. And I grew to love the Maine farmhouse as the week went on. So much so I told my husband we have to include that and this on our house one day. Even the barn being attached to the house too. He stated he wasn’t too sure about that, due to it being a fire hazard, but I assure you we will have a barn attached to our house one day.
Of course we rented a farmhouse too – what did you expect? It actually was a boarding house at one point, but is now owned by a brother and sister. The other sibling and her husband own the adjacent home that has this view (below) of blueberry fields and the Penobscot Bay. Harry, Kate and dog Jake quickly became acquainted with our family and Harry introduced us to their blueberry fields. He also informed us of the best way to make blueberry muffins – putting more blueberries then a recipe asks for, just enough to keep the batter together. We were pretty sure Harry wanted some blueberry muffins and after picking cups and cups, we happily obliged.
Most of our days centered around these views – a pebbled beach, pathways of blueberry picking, runs and bike trips down an unpaved road, lined with farmhouses. And that bay. Seriously – when I’ve read about Maine in blogs, I’ve kind of laughed at the thought it was that magical. Nothing is that magical. But maybe, just maybe it is. And maybe part of that magic resides in the fact it was summer and vacation. But whatever it is, count us in.