The bliss of Shagg Pond

After months of burning the candle at both ends, I finally had a few days (Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday) for some much needed rest and relaxation.

A dear childhood friend of my wife invited us to her family camp on Shagg Pond, in Woodstock, located in northeast Oxford County. This camp, which will be 100 years old next year, is a place that gives you the sense that you are turning back the clock to a time before being harried was a way of life.

[Shagg Pond, with Bald Mountain in the background, shrouded in fog]

[Another shot of an idyllic Maine pond]

One of the best things about the location of the camp, besides the idyllic pond, scenic vistas, and great people just hanging out, was being cut off from cell phone service, the internet (s), and other intrusions that diminish the experience.

[Camp Altamerteva, on Shagg Pond]

One of the best parts of the long weekend was my wife's friend's son, George. Eight-years-old and still wide-eyed about the world, George was my guide to enjoying my surroundings. Never have I seen a child derive so much enjoyment from the wonders of a rural pond. From sharing his passion for catching frogs with me, to the joy of returning the favor by taking him on his first-ever hike of Bald Mountain, George helped me to put aside political partisanship, the worries of the world, and the cynicism that pervades our daily existence. It's been quite a long time since I enjoyed being in the presence of a youngster, but George's enthusiasm for life was contagious.

[George showing off his catch]

I'm back to the day-to-day grind of work, following the joke of a presidential race we've been given, and yes, blogging. With my return, I'm going to try to keep my memories of the past long weekend alive, and appreciate the little things, like George helped me reconnect with.