Somehow, I posted this week’s piece when I was only halfway done. Here is the rest of what I intended to post.

On Saturday, I went to a lovely poetry reading at my library. Jeri Theriault was the poet, and as she read, her husband, Philip Carlsen, accompanied her on the cello. This was a striking combination, with the words and music enhancing each other. I especially liked the way Jeri wove art and the classics into her everyday experiences, giving the poetry depth and a larger meaning.

Sunday was Mother’s Day. Did we celebrate? Of course we did. We met our daughter Shannon and her husband Mike in York, a halfway point for both of us.

First, we had Chinese food.

Then we went to Stonewall Kitchen.

I particularly liked this fine fellow.

After shopping in the store, with its many temptations, we had tea and dessert, which included my favorite, a whoopie pie.

After that, it was on to the movies, to see the fun and charming The Sheep Detectives. Quite a change from the past couple of movies we’ve seen, which have been more on the horror side. What can I say? We have eclectic tastes.

We went to a cinema in New Hampshire, and to get there we had to cross The Bridge. Every Mainer who heads south to New Hampshire and beyond knows this bridge. It is a solid demarcation that gives Maine the feeling of an island. A true Mainer crosses that bridge with a hint of sadness and then returns with a feeling of joy, a feeling of coming home.

Here, we approach the bridge.

Getting closer

and closer.

And then we were in New Hampshire.

But we were back home again in the same day, as my mother might have said.

A perfect trip for this homebody who thinks home is best and loves sleeping in her very own bed.