Maine: Infinitesimally More Interesting With Leaves.

A couple of weeks ago, in the spirit of get-me-OUT-of-this-God-forsaken-house-before-I-start-killing-people, I suggested that we take a Sunday drive. I knew that a big storm was scheduled to begin its snow dumpage that night, and so help me, if I was going to be stuck inside tomorrow, then I was getting out today. Absolutely anywhere would suit me just fine. It was the "out" part that most concerned me; the details were just gravy. But ideally, our route should intersect with a Starbucks at some point. Ooh, and lunch at some random diner. That would be nice, too. Bug and Bear were initially suspicious of a plan to go for an indefinite drive. They wanted to know where? (Don't know. Around.) For how long? (Don't know. Awhile - bring stuff to do in the car.) They attempted a little preemptive whining, but must have spied the crazy lurking in my eyes because they didn't put much effort into it and eventually wandered off to locate their iPods and DS's.

In the car, they decided to share earbuds and listen to an audio book on Bug's iPod with shockingly little sibling bickerment. There was even some ceremonial sharing of Tic-Tacs. Daddy Shortbread and I quirked an eyebrow at each other but wisely did not comment. That whole catch-them-being-good thing really only works when they're little. At this age, within three seconds of my saying, "I'm so proud of how well you two are getting along!" they feel compelled to stage a skirmish just on principle.

I love the old red brick buildings that line the main streets of most towns here. You miss a lot of the architerctural detail when you're cruising by in your car, but I made Daddy Shortbread slow way down, so I could snap a few appreciative shots.

Sometime in the noonish hour, we pulled into a small diner in Is This Even a Town?, Maine. We enjoyed a modest lunch (for the love of all things culinary, NEVER order the chicken marsala at a diner - stick to the grilled cheese and fries) while attended to by a waitress who was long on charm but somewhat disconcertingly short on teeth.

The drive accomplished its goal of getting us out, but I couldn't help trying to picture the mournful, bare countryside as it will look once the trees leaf out. There is a subtle beauty in wintry fields and trees, but by March I'm done with subtlety and ready for the blatant, in-your-face display of Spring. Come on, baby...