If I were to leave the countryside and move to a crowded city area, I would be haunted for the rest of my life by Maine. I would see her in my dreams. Around every corner I turned, I would be looking for her green shadows. I would be listening for her birds, straining to hear their songs. I would look for the furtive movement of her deer and moose, only to be impoverished and starved by their loss. Alas, in vain I would search for her earthy scent until I perished.
But I am a hunter and I hunt for Maine and I cannot do anything else. I am mesmerized by Maine. I am in love with her bounty. I am awed by her beauty. I am left speechless by her natural wonders. I am made humble by her vast rivers and lakes. I am subdued by the treacherous cliffs of her shores. I am enslaved by her uncharted and untouched territories--wild, terrible, and free.
I am poisoned with her, the Mistress Maine. I am addicted to her, the beguiling green princess. I am obsessed with her fruited fields. I am infatuated by her woodland promises. I am completely enraptured by her savage wildness. I am lost in the depths of her mists. I am drowned gladly in her abundance. I am hopelessly . . . helplessly . . . drawn by her endlessly . . .
|The hunt for the elusive princess continues . . .|