My Blue Heaven
It took a weekend getaway to remind us why we'd moved to Maine.
By Maria Padian
Our first trip to Blue Hill sprang from sheer desperation.There we were, thirty-somethings with toddlers, each month counting on one hand the number of uninterrupted nights of sleep we logged. We shuttled from work to home in a haze familiar to many young parents. We rarely went out on a "date." And we absolutely never in our wildest dreams even considered taking the canoe out for a paddle.
Ironically, the canoe is what brought us to Maine to begin with.
Pre-kids, my husband and I were urban professionals who fled the city each weekend in search of white water, car-topping our Old Town Tripper and driving for hours along packed highways in search of navigable rivers.
