Laird and Dylan camped on Richmond Island in mid-July, braving the three-mile boat ride from the Spurwink River with their parents to visit one of Maine's most storied and magical spots. It was one of the highlights of our trip to Maine this summer.
We got there early enough to swim and frolick, eat wild raspberries, and search for seashells. We spotted the rams in the meadow, and counted fishing boats steaming by offshore. After hours of fun, our main concern was that they wouldn't take kindly to getting zipped up in a tent at 7pm, when the sun was still comfortably off the horizon.
But our fears were ill-placed. They were tired and out like lights within minutes, Laird sucking on his blue dog, and Dylan snuggling his lobster as the lapping of waves lulled them into dreamland.
That gave Mom and Dad time to enjoy the sunset and later the stars, with frosty beers in front of the beach fire. Richmond is one of the most lovely places on earth -- the indians had clam bakes there hundreds of years ago, the explorer Jacques Cartier admired it in his journal on his way to the St. Lawrence seaway, and more recently, Tim and Lindy Nudd fell in love there by the light of a campfire.
Its nice that Laird and Dylan, at only 18 months, have found it too.