It’s 32 degrees on a sunny Sunday morning at the Little Dog Coffee Shop in Brunswick, an iconic New England college town, population 20,000. The Little Dog, situated on the broad main street (named Maine Street), is abuzz with families and small children, oldsters sipping courtados or lattes at tables for two, and millenials eating egg and cheese sandwiches as they work at their laptops. We arrive at 9:30 when the place is almost empty. By the time we’ve had our coffee and read the news on our tablets, there’s a long line at the counter, and not an empty chair to be found.
It’s cold enough for hats and gloves and the down coat I pulled from the back of the closet before we left for the weekend in Maine. Outside, we see flags at half staff, in honor of the soldiers and sailors who served in past wars, those of recent memory, those going on for the last 18 years since 9/11, and those long past. Maybe I should be thinking about the wars, and the men and women who fought in them, but I’m so taken by the cold morning weather and the brilliant sunshine that I push that thought aside, happy that yesterday’s rainy weather hasn’t stuck around.
We’re only two hours north of Boston, but fall is about to wrap up here, and winter is standing by, just waiting to release the first snow onto this town.
Sunshine warms us as we walk up Maine Street, past the used records and books store, back to our car. We head out of town and up to Harpswell, where fingers of water separate the land.
The sun dances on the water and on the bridges, and we drive on to our next Maine destination, up the road a piece.